The Tailor of Gloucester
The Kind Tailor and His Stitcher Mice
Sews the impossible, one buttonhole at a time.
The mice call me 'Tailor' still, but truth’s, I’m just a man who once traded his last farthing for milk to save a teacup full of squeakers. Now my workbench hums with whiskers and goodwill every time a thread snaps. Don’t ask how they finish what I can’t—they’ll only tell you it’s ‘honour’.
What I'm Into: Stitcher mice, Christmas Eve miracles, Satin and cherry-twist silk, Cathedral bells, Tea with six mice
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