The Cotton Mill Chronicles of Slobberchops

For a very brief time in my life I worked in one of these Lancashire Cotton Mills which are quite distinctly from another time period.

I had finished my tenure at Kwiksave, and needed a new challenge. Actually the money was a little better and that was the instigator!

Sometimes you have to make that risky move from being Shelf Filler to a Can Mover!

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The factory I worked in was not unlike this one depicted. Grim, dirty, unattractive, so why should I move from my prestigious role of getting bags of sugar thrown at me from a truck to moving cans from one place to another. Yes, the job role was just that. Move a huge can of cotton from point (A) to point (B).

This was typical of the opportunities given to someone with no experience besides supermarket work, little (at the time) educational merit and a subdued outlook on his career path.

My IT career was on the horizon but was not there just yet. I had applied to the local computer distributor for work and got no reply. A CV stating I was an enthusiastic Atari gamer and budding cracker didn’t push the right buttons I suppose. I was to gain employment at this particular establishment 4 years later.

Lambert Howarth appears to have gone bust, and states it was a slipper factory, though I swear it was cotton when I worked there.

My memories of the inside of the factory are rather murky. My girlfriend’s brother and mother both worked at the Rawtenstall, Lambert Howarth factory and I recall having to go for a medical test to clinch the job.

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I was required to wear earplugs as the decibel level of the weaving machines was around 120db. As much as I search the internet, I can’t find a job spec of ‘Can Mover’. The ‘can’s were around 6 feet tall, loaded with cotton and I simply had to move them from the weavers area to a lift shaft.

There was another bloke who took them from there. During the first week, said bloke took a dislike to me and socked me in the chin for a reason I can’t remember. It was not a hard blow, but he was distinctively unfriendly.

There was a ‘smoke room’ which was full enclosed and stained with a mid brown colour. Entering the room was like being voluntarily gassed, the cloud that emitted from door literally bellowed out when it was opened.

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I ventured in only once and that was enough for me. Being a non-smoker helped immensely. It seemed like 95% of the workforce smoked at that time.

Shift work was normal practice at Cotton Mills. Week one was 6am-2pm, followed by 2pm-10pm.

I have never been so bored in my entire life working in this factory. As I mentioned somewhere before, you had two choices when leaving school; the supermarkets or the factories. After experiencing both, I now know I chose the correct one as my initial career choice as bad as that was.

Anyone who has read my The Kwiksave Chronicles of Slobberchops series will know I despised working there, but this was a whole new level of torture.

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Working in this factory was sheer repetitiveness, boredom, companionless work unless you counted Mr Bully who repeatedly sneered at me, ‘I’m going to make your life miserable’ or ‘Your mine now kid’ or feigned a blow which connected sometimes but without much force.

This guy was quite a bit bigger than me and not to be toyed with. I just didn’t want to get involved in stupid quibbles.

Halfway through Week (2), which was the 2pm-10pm shift, I decided enough was enough and did not show for work. My career at Lambert Howarth was just 7 working days.

I preferred to be unemployed than work at this miserable, 18th century workhouse where I was bullied everyday. It was one of the finest and decisive moments of my career to date and I have absolutely no regrets about what I did.

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Most of these mills have either been demolished or are in the process of being. I say good riddance to them. My memories are nothing but bad ones.

All stock photographs I have used are filtered as ‘Labelled for reuse’ or 'Labelled for noncommercial reuse' and the sources have been cited.