Diary of a Cotton Mill Worker
Dairy of a cotton worker
9th January 1812
Dear diary,
A few days ago my father was employed as a cotton weaver at the largest factory in Manchester. He was only taken in unless me, his nine year old son would also join the business. So today was my first day at the factory and I was only there for three hours as I was a new employee. As I walked through the entrance you could hear the loud clatters of metal and the constant banging of wood. The smell was foul and you could see a stream outside. I was taught the different machines and how to use them, the owner of the factory was Mr Oakmore, he was fairly large with a long black beard. He told me that I was going to work on the third floor in section 7; I was going to be cleaning the thread and wool that go underneath the spinning jenny where it isn’t used. He also told me that I had to get here by 5 o’clock exact otherwise there will be consequences and finish at 5’oclock in the evening. We also get an hour and a half lunch; Mr Oakmore said that they give the workers only the best meat and food that the cooks can make. It took me only a few seconds to get from one place to another under the machine. My father worked on the ninth floor working as a cloth maker, he would sow the thread into a cloth and then die it in different colours. I earn about 3 shillings a year whereas my father earns 12 shillings a month.
10th January 1812
Dear diary,
Today I was still doing the same job; it isn’t that fun sweeping the floor for cotton and threads for ten and a half hours. As time passed the beating sun blared straight at me and I found it really hard to concentrate as I sweating loads. Then, near me in the textile part of the room, a girl about the same age as me got her apron caught in the shaft. This made her spin round and round until her leg was found a couple of meters away from me. She had no medical attention from anyone; they just left her there, there to die. The woman who was spinning the spinning
9th January 1812
Dear diary,
A few days ago my father was employed as a cotton weaver at the largest factory in Manchester. He was only taken in unless me, his nine year old son would also join the business. So today was my first day at the factory and I was only there for three hours as I was a new employee. As I walked through the entrance you could hear the loud clatters of metal and the constant banging of wood. The smell was foul and you could see a stream outside. I was taught the different machines and how to use them, the owner of the factory was Mr Oakmore, he was fairly large with a long black beard. He told me that I was going to work on the third floor in section 7; I was going to be cleaning the thread and wool that go underneath the spinning jenny where it isn’t used. He also told me that I had to get here by 5 o’clock exact otherwise there will be consequences and finish at 5’oclock in the evening. We also get an hour and a half lunch; Mr Oakmore said that they give the workers only the best meat and food that the cooks can make. It took me only a few seconds to get from one place to another under the machine. My father worked on the ninth floor working as a cloth maker, he would sow the thread into a cloth and then die it in different colours. I earn about 3 shillings a year whereas my father earns 12 shillings a month.
10th January 1812
Dear diary,
Today I was still doing the same job; it isn’t that fun sweeping the floor for cotton and threads for ten and a half hours. As time passed the beating sun blared straight at me and I found it really hard to concentrate as I sweating loads. Then, near me in the textile part of the room, a girl about the same age as me got her apron caught in the shaft. This made her spin round and round until her leg was found a couple of meters away from me. She had no medical attention from anyone; they just left her there, there to die. The woman who was spinning the spinning