Leaving school at fifteen,
Jackie and Hazel step through Josiah’s door stead,
under Mrs. Mender’s gentle gaze,
to learn the delicate art of fancy fine worsted.
Fingers danced, patience woven tight,
fifteen years of innocence, spun into skill,
memories of laughter;
as time’s quiet hand shapes youth’s will.
Spools of hope, spirits shining bright,
strength in every line.
Like tapestry their lives are stitched
fortitude swirling through every design.
The mill’s looms unify every employee, each skill a fibre, interlocked, seamless.
In the weaving shed, voices fade
swallowed by the thunderous roar-
broad Yorkshire accents give way
to sign language, lip reading, glances and more.
Their secret code, a craft of care. Ingenious as the looms, electric and bright men as tight as worsted wool, work machines that change their day and night.
The mill’s looms unify every employee, each skill a fibre, interlocked, seamless.
As Above
Men lift yards- vast, heavy, upstairs to where the girls stitch seams. Tiny thimbles- guardians of fragile fingers, aprons stained with oil and grease.
Wooden tables bathed in daylight,
broad windows spilling sun on diligent hands,
fluorescents humming overhead,
music playing in the background.
Hazel and Jackie, chatter freely, of boys, weekends, dreams of more, they enjoy the work and feel so lucky- wages earned, ambitions soar.
Hazel has hopes of being married, Jackie dreams of joining the army. Too soon they’ll be with the seasoned ladies desiring still to venture past Honley.
Looked down upon by office workers, their craftsmanship a muted song, masters of a skill, proud yet humble, their legacy forever, living on.
The mill’s looms unify every employee, each skill a fibre, interlocked, seamless.
At last the tweed must pass the test, mistakes hidden, hands precise, scoured and finished, refined with care excellence sought in sacrifice.
From thirteen forty-four- when the trade began, the area known for fine wool Josiah’s family spun by hand.
Until in eighteen eighty they opened the mill,
their suits and ties once sold to Kings.
From humble roots to Savile Row,
from mills to halls of gents and kings.
Masters of a skill, proud yet humble, their quiet craftsmanship a proper song in the mending room on the top floor of Josiah’s mill, with the radio on.
A testament to skill- and time, their craft, the weft that shapes the past, a legacy in woven rhyme, a legacy to skill that lasts.
A Royal Visit