Once upon a time, not too long ago, all the men
and women in the land worked hard from daybreak to nightfall, making
things. Some made lace and some wove
cloth. Some span flax and some twisted
yarn. Others made paper and more still
farmed the land. They worked hard and
lived tough, but took a pride in earning what they could with the strength of
their own bodies.
Then the world began to change. Machines changed things. The bosses earned more money using a machine
and sacking the workers, so they did just that.
Families lost their entire income and many faced starvation, destitution
and early death.
One day a man in gaily coloured clothes came
amongst them travelling from village to village, from hamlet to heath. He played a hand-crafted flute, whistling out
a stout marching tune to speed his journey along. Locals took him into their homes and fed him,
before he left again the next day setting out to his next location.
When he called upon a village, a strange thing
happened overnight. All the villagers
slept heavily and shared the same dream.
They dreamt when night fell, a beguiling tune filled the air, compelling
them to leave their beds. They dreamt of
laughing and dancing and skipping as a crowd, to the mill and the factory,
picking up stones and limbs of trees on their way. Dancing into a frenzy, they broke and smashed
and trashed until only sticks of wood and heaps of knotted twine were left.
Then the music slowed and the crowd began to
sway and move back to the village, drunk on the heady atmosphere and the thrill
of experience. One by one, they headed
for their beds and back into their dreams.
When they woke the next morning, the visitor
had gone. His marching tune could be
heard trailing into the neighbouring valley he planned to visit.
Ned Ludd smiled to himself as he walked away
from another successful night. He piped
up a jaunty tune and stepped out towards the town near the next cotton mill.
Inspiration: Luddites
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