Local Tailoring

transcribed at

Local Tailoring  [duchas:4882033]

Local tailors are not half as plentiful at the present day as they were in former times.  At intervals they left the district when work was getting slack and went forth to seek their fortunes. The older ones died away and were not replaced and little by little their numbers dwindled away until two only now remain. These work in their homes and do not travel from house to house as the tailors did in former times.

They sometimes supply the cloth at the present day as they did in former times but none of it is home-spun. The person requiring a suit purchases the cloth in some shop and takes it to the tailor to make, and perhaps if the tailor stocks the required material it is purchased from him.

Suits are very rarely made locally and only for the use of the men-folk when working on the farm. Flax is not grown in the vicinity and naturally there is no spinning or weaving. The material used in the making of the few shirts is generally flannellette or rough coloured calico.

Stockings are knit locally but hand-woven or home-spun thread is not used.

Local Tailoring  [duchas:4882034]

A story is told by the old people of a tailor who travelled the countryside making clothes for the peasants. Now  it chanced that he left the house of his client late one night and had with him a jug of porridge given him by the housewife. This he was conveying home to his family for supper. The Moon was shinning full and clear but the tailor was a little short-sighted. As he crossed the field, intending to take a short cut to the road, he was suddenly arrested by the sight of some large object rearing itself up in the centre of the field. He immediately surmised it was a fairy and began to hurdle his possessions at it in an endeavour to frighten it away. He started by throwing his thimble with the comment "Seo chúgat mo mhéarachán" then "Seo chúgat mo síosúr," as he threw his scissors "Seo chugat mo snáth agus snáthad," and he continued in this state until he had finally thrown everything except his jug of porridge and to his amazement and horror the thing was still there. Then with a last despairing gesture he hurled his precious porridge (with the exclamanation "Seo chúghat mo cupán práisce") and bolted. A neighbour passing through the field a few moments later found a large weed growing in the centre round which was strewn the tailors kit whilst the jug which had contained the porridge

Local Tailoring  [duchas:4882035]

rested snugly on top.

This story was related to me by my grandfather Timothy Sullivan (late of Caheragh but now resident in Coolcolaughta) on May 12th 1938.