Pottering in the Potteries

Saturday morning, and we are pottering off to the Potteries, eshewing the easy option of the motorway in favour of a tour of England's 'A' roads.  Well, just the one, really- the A34, which winds its way south from Manchester, through the rolling Cheshire plains and on into the midland county of Staffordshire.  Once in the industrial conurbation of Stoke-on-Trent we will be taking a left turn into sudden cineramic countryside to reach our destination; the historical and prestigious Wedgwood ceramic factory, which is open for public visits.

But before this cultural experience, we indulge in a spot of attempted celebrity-spotting.  Well we don't have a choice really; as the A34 passes through the centre of the exclusive Cheshire town of Alderley Edge, all traffic slows to a funereal pace.  There is no hold-up, save for the occasional giant 4x4 inching its way out of a parking space adjacent to one of the many boutiques which line the main thoroughfare; everybody is just slowing down to see if they can catch a glimpse of one of Manchester United's first team emerging from Morrison's supermarket.  Some chance of that; it is now half-past twelve in the afternoon and, as the car radio tuned into Five Live is reminding us, Giggs, Rooney and the rest will right now be back in the city we have left behind, lacing up their million pound boots in preparation for this afternoon's game against Tottenham Hotspur at Old Trafford. 

An hour later there is another unscheduled delay as a slight misunderstanding over the map (we have forgotten to bring it) leads us to become convinced we have somehow driven past our turn-off and are about to end up in Birmingham.  But another advantage of non-motorway driving is that you can stop and ask directions- in a likely-looking residential sidestreet we find a friendly middle-aged couple who tell us that we are still in Newcastle-under-Lyme (oh, the 'other' Newcastle- I have always wondered what it was like, and indeed, whether it really existed) and that there are a few more miles of A34 still to go.

I seem to detect a hint of pride in the man's voice as he directs us to our destination.  And little wonder; the prosperity and world-wide fame of this region was built on the manufacture of ceramics- and there is no more celebrated name worldwide than that of Josiah Wedgwood, who back in the 1700s set up the family firm that whose headquarters we are heading towards.

The directions are accurate, sure enough- and ten minutes later we are looking up at a fifteen foot high bronze statue of Josiah Wedgwood himself.  And this is just a replica; a plaque informs us that the original commands pride of place in front of Stoke-on-Trent railway station.  Duly impressed by the boss's iconic stature in this part of the world, we head off for a tour of his factory.

And a very curious tour it is.  The thing is, Wedgwood is no theme park; this is a working factory, and even though it is a weekend afternoon there are plenty of people milling about getting on with their jobs of work; co-existing quite happily, it seems, with the more tourist-centred parts of the operation.  So one minute you are observing a potter demonstrating his mysterious and ancient wheelcraft to an impressed audience of seven-year olds, the next you find yourself looking through an internal window into a modern-day side office where a pair of sweaty middle-managers in white nylon shirts are huddled over an Excel spread sheet.  Graphs on a wall outside this office illustrate current rates of success against stark commercial imperatives (obviously very important as they are written with capital letters at the start) such as Efficiency, Productivity, and Absence.  On another wall there is a giant Union Jack with the words 'Stoke City FC' scrawled across the middle.

In fact this weekend excursion is a little like being at work.  Except, of course, that my office doesn't have a cute little machine where dollops of unpromising-looking clay drop out of what look like a cement-mixer, are twirled around and pressed into the shape of dinner plates on a revolving turntable, efore being whisked into the air by the dextrous hands of a burly attendant and placed on a shelf ready to be packed into a giant kiln.  And it doesn't have a stand where another contented- looking worker sits taking plates that have come out of the kiln and placing them under a stamping machine to be marked on the underside with the all-important Wedgwood name.   My office doesn't have plates at all, unless you count the paper ones the vending machine sandwiches come on.  This place is full of them, pristine white and piled up on trolleys in every available alleyway, like so many ready-to-cook custard pies.  On reflection the experience reminds me less of my current work-place and more of where I briefly worked as an eighteen-year old- at the giant Carricks bakery in Cowgate, Newcastle-upon-Tyne.

Having inspected the present-day custard pies it is time to find out a little more about the history of the place, by heading into the museum attached to the factory proper.  And it is here that the Wedgwood experience really excels; the carefully-laid out displays take us through the whole history of the firm. We learn about the early days making tea sets for the European aristocracy, and the troubled times in the 1930s when the old factory at Etruria was constantly flooded and in danger of sinking for good into the nearby canal.  We are told of the reaction to that danger- a revolutionary move to a green-field site away from the main industrial area (all workers prepared to make the move out into the countryside with their family were promised a job and a home; unsurprisingly given the unhealthy conditions prevailing in the Stoke conurbation there were no shortage of takers).  Finally we are brought up to the present day, when a host of big-name outside designers on short-term contracts work alongside long-serving company servants to help maintain the Wedgwood firm's reputation at the forefront of ceramic manufacture.  The story is accompanied by beautifully-presented examples of surviving work from each era.

Our history lesson over, it is nearly time to go home- but first of all Charlotte needs to visit the Factory outlet and pick up a couple of striking teacups for a three quid each (a snip!) and baby Frankie, who has been quite miraculously well-behaved throughout this quite grown-up day out spent in close proximitiy to tottering piles of hideously expensive china, needs to run around manically outside the factory for twenty minutes or so, just to burn off some energy before being strapped back in the car seat for the journey back up the long and windy A34 to Levenshulme.  And I need to have a nice sit down- so I take a seat at the foot of the fifteen-foot bronze statue, and me and Josiah Wedgwood spend a quality twenty minutes together watching Frankie career around happily wielding an orange umbrella at startled passers-by. 

I think Josiah was impressed with our son's developing sense of balance.  In turn we were certainly taken by the factory Josiah's sons built.  I would recommend the Wedgwood experience to anyone with a passing interest in English industrial history, ceramic design through the ages, giant custard pies or, last but not least, sweaty middle-managers huddled over Excel spreadsheets.  The Wedgwood Experience is signposted just off the A34 in Staffordshire.  Just stop at 'the other Newcastle' and ask directions of the friendly-looking middle-aged couple on their way to the shops- they will tell you the way.

Comments

[bushra]

did someone say celebrity-spotting? only i saw two more faces off emmerdale on monday...

[Jonathan]

You been to Leeds again Bushra? You want to be careful, all this high-living could go to your head...

I don't seem to see people out of Coronation Street any more on the streets of Manchester but I used to all the time. In fact I used to think I was being stalked by Curly Watts. I also once saw Mike Baldwin wandering down Deansgate singing softly to himself, and another time spilt young Steve McDonald's pint in Barca bar. He was very good about it, mind...

[bushra]

i live in bradford, but work in leeds innit. doomed in this high life.

[abby]

Did they tell you about Charles Darwin at te Wedgwood factory? It's all very interesting and quite inbred too (http://www.absoluteastronomy.com/encyclopedia/d/da/darwin_--_wedgwood_family.htm).

Of course, here in the US we don't have evolution any more, but I bet people in Kansas would really go for some of them nice blue teacups.