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There was a cotton factory in our village many years ago. My grandfather worked there. The factory has gone now and the cotton I use comes from China. But the memory is kept alive by the pub which still stands where it has for a couple of hundred years, The Yarnspinner.

We were talking about cotton the other night. We all had yarns to tell. I reminded them of the time my friend Rosey was repairing a little rip on her skirt whilst travelling on a crowded train and she accidentally attached herself to a handsome young man sitting next to her! Billy told us how his Gran inadvertently added an indecent image to an embroidery she was creating and Jim mentioned that his wife sewed a badge to the pocket of their son’s school blazer upside down. We were all in stitches!

It’s the 30th anniversary of the fire next month. A dozen workers perished when the factory went up in flames. The ladies of the sewing circle are busy making brightly coloured cotton cobwebs to hang on the trees in the High Street. I miss my grandfather.


photo-20181105154629479FFfAW is hosted by Priceless Joy. The picture is from Yarnspinnerr

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