Gerry
03-24-2008, 08:24 PM
His name is Willy and he lived across the street from us in the upstairs flat. He was a wee small stocky man who always had a smile for you when ever he passed you in the street or on those special days when we would go into his workshop to get jobs done. The smell of glue, heat, leather and the waxed cord and string was unique and the skill with which he could nail on a new bit of leather to the bottom of your boots then carve the edge with that tiny sharp knife to remove the excess leaving the boots perfect again for at least another year.
I remember when I passed the exam that allowed me to go to the College with all the swanky rich boys whose Dads were doctors and lawyers and businessmen. Willie came home from work a few days later with a brown paper parcel tied up with that waxed string tucked tidily under his arm. But as he walked up our street instead of climbing the concrete steps to his flat he crossed the street and up our path. My Granny brought Willy in and I was called out of the scullery to be presented with the brown paper parcel. I remember opening it to see a hand made leather school bag complete with a big silvery buckle and a broad strap to hang it over my shoulder. I gave him such a big hug for this special gift hand sewn by himself.
That bag lasted me for years and years and just never wore out. No fancy branded logo on my school bag but I knew it was better than any ponsy school bag carried by all the posh boys.
By Gerry Temple
copyright March 2008
I remember when I passed the exam that allowed me to go to the College with all the swanky rich boys whose Dads were doctors and lawyers and businessmen. Willie came home from work a few days later with a brown paper parcel tied up with that waxed string tucked tidily under his arm. But as he walked up our street instead of climbing the concrete steps to his flat he crossed the street and up our path. My Granny brought Willy in and I was called out of the scullery to be presented with the brown paper parcel. I remember opening it to see a hand made leather school bag complete with a big silvery buckle and a broad strap to hang it over my shoulder. I gave him such a big hug for this special gift hand sewn by himself.
That bag lasted me for years and years and just never wore out. No fancy branded logo on my school bag but I knew it was better than any ponsy school bag carried by all the posh boys.
By Gerry Temple
copyright March 2008