My time at J & G Meakin Eagle Pottery Works (to give it's full and historic name) is a great memory. It was only very brief but it's filed in the memory under 'good times.' Student days; staying at my folks little new house in Franklyn Street following their recent move back to the UK, and home of Stoke-On-Trent; the family abode back from Polytechnic for the Summer to earn some term time money. I've never really had an job I would call worthy but the best times in work are sometimes a lot simpler than job satisfaction and more about great people. Somehow, as things do, a little gang of us formed in the Meakin fold. For one, a chap from Stoke poly studying sculpture and big into Hendrix named Tristram, as I recall. A long haired chap named Neil who was a full-time Meakins man of myriad jobs around the business who started frighteningly early because he'd got the cleaning contract too! By frighteningly early I mean earlier than me and my starting at Six am which was ungodly for a hippie Art student in the making like me.
Big Chris who wouldn't have looked out of place in Motorhead. Big. Big hair. Big 'tache and biker's jacket adorned with heavy metal trophies; and strangely, in this quite ruffled motley crew of big hair and leather there was a quite lovely young lady. A full time Meakins employee in the role of Quality Selector, who's name most tragically is lost to memory. All that does remain is the memory of her bubbly good humour; award winning smile, fresh faced good looks and mysterious kinship to the smelly club that we must have been.My role within Meakins was as basic as could be, and as boring as hell with the clock stopped. In essence, I had to pick up selected ware on a pallet on my trusty pallet truck and transport it from one side of the canal via a series of corridors and lifts, and over a bridge to the other side of the canal to a constant and loudly vocal and driven roomful of ladies (some wouldn't say that!) fulfilling orders with it - and by the shouting, they were being paid by the piece! They wanted ware piled up before them constantly. Driven, to my tired.
Such relentlessness was puntuated twice in the day and very much looked forward to it was! Firstly, for the most amazing cooked breakfast I have ever had the privilege to eat- canal side in the morning sunshine to laughter and banter. Again for a Lunch break, for which I sloped over the road to the company cricket pitch, to lie on the soft manicured grass in the shade of a tree for a lovely snooze. My Dad always said that it was strange how memory never remembers the rainy days and my time at Meakins was Summer in every way as I remember it.
At the beginning and at the end of the shift the entire workforce all filed through the reception to stamp our cards in the works clock machine. On the way out, it was company policy that folk could be selected at random to be checked for ware being potentially stolen. Neither clocking in nor out was a lesson in civilised protocol.. that stamp on the clock card is the money! Livelihoods. I never really thought of it like that at the time because it never particularly bothered me so long as a mark had been made on the card, and that I was the right side of the time, but it was a tumultuous ordeal. Perhaps it was because I was employed there via an agency, as were Chris and Tristram, that no clock stamp for the company was ever going to be contentious. I don't know!
Every Friday, on early finish, we walked up to Hanley to collect our pay packets. We walked as the group I named above, first stopping in The Ivy House Pub on Bucknall Road for a pint celebrating the week done! How easily pleased we were.
In town, after visiting the agency office for more banter with the staff in the office.. and the money of course .. we'd go for a couple in The Market Tavern.
On a Friday at the end of the month we'd collectively take a trip to The Highwayman Pub out Cheadle way on the bus .. and club together for a taxi back to Hanley!!
The Summer passed and on my very last shift I was humorously informed that it was 'company procedure' to be dunked in the canal as a fond farewell. Health & Safety had infiltrated it's way into the workplace by then, so it actually transpired that I was taken into a disused part of the operation to an execution squad style drenching by everyone who'd possibly got a bucket! Did everyone have a bucket? Seemed like it!
Afterwards we still all walked up to Hanley in the Summertime honoured way ...soaked through and all.
It all ended there. None of us stayed in touch and it was never repeated. That was the way before social media means we can now all keep connected. A chapter.
I sometimes wonder what happened to all involved; how their lives panned out. They are out there somewhere and now Meakins has long gone.
The beautiful memory. Meakins and the endless Summer.
