My poor little mam, hates having her photograph taken. Went to her sons wedding and made it through even though her legs were hurting her so much. She was shattered when she got home and was pleased to be able to sit down in her chair. I thought at one point we were going to have to give her a fireman’s lift to get her from the car into the house but slowly and surely she made it.
“I’d run up the street when the mill was about to close and stand outside waiting for my mother. And people coming out and saying, “Hello there, your mam won’t be long”. And then maybe one would come out another different night and, “oh, your mam’s going to be a long time cause she’s had a smash.”
“And what you call a smash was the shuttle had come out of the reeds and broken all the cotton. And they used to have to bring all them through the reeds again and tie them. And if it was too bad a smash they would change it and start again, if it was too bad. But if it wasn’t too bad they’d mend it and then comb it. But that part when the cloth was taken off the loom itself it was cut out. ”
- Iris Anson