Flashback Friday - Martin Wiles

Quiet Places by Martin Wiles

When I walked in, I thought I had died and went to the wrong place: screaming and hollering, filth circulating in the air, some people running and others standing idle, stale air. I quickly became claustrophobic and wanted to escape.

My first encounter with the weave room in a textile mill wasn’t pleasant. Having done a short stent in another mill previously, I swore I’d never set foot in another. But I did. Hundreds of looms congregated, all shouting at the top of their lungs. I could hardly hear the person standing beside me who was trying her best to train me. Though I persevered for three long years, I never enjoyed a quiet moment. Read more...

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