The Fascination of Lead Spindle Whorls for UK Metal Detectorists, I Just Love Finding Them!

It was a late spring morning when I set out to one of my favourite detecting spots, an old medieval village site that had yielded some interesting finds over the years. The dew was still clinging to the grass as I swept my metal detector back and forth, listening intently for that telltale signal as the dew drops flicked off from side to side. After about an hour of finding the usual suspects – a few corroded copper coins and a handful of buttons – I heard a clear, strong tone that made me pause.

I knelt down, carefully cut a neat plug of turf, and flipped it over. A quick check with my pinpointer confirmed that the object was still in the hole. Gently, I began to tease apart the soil with my fingers, and that’s when I saw it – a small, round object with a distinctive hole through its centre. I’d found a lead spindle whorl.

Lead spindle whorls are fascinating little objects that often turn up on medieval sites across the UK. They’re small, usually circular items with a hole in the middle, typically measuring between 2 to 4 cm in diameter. These unassuming pieces played a crucial role in the daily lives of our ancestors, serving as an essential component in the production of yarn for clothing and textiles.

The spindle whorl I’d just unearthed was about 3 cm across, with a slightly domed top and a flat bottom. It had that dull grey colour characteristic of lead, with a patina that spoke of its centuries spent in the soil. As I turned it over in my hand, I could just make out some faint decorative lines radiating from the central hole – a common feature on these items.

But what exactly were these objects used for? Well, spindle whorls were weights that were attached to the bottom of a spindle – a thin rod used for spinning fibres into yarn. The whorl’s weight and momentum helped to keep the spindle spinning, allowing the spinner to draw out and twist the fibres more efficiently. Lead was a popular material for these whorls because it was relatively easy to work with and provided a good weight for the task.

I remember finding my first spindle whorl a few years back. I was detecting in a field that had once been part of a medieval manor, and when I dug up that small lead disc, I initially thought it might be a crude coin or token. It wasn’t until I got home and cleaned it up that I realised what I’d found. Since then, I’ve developed a real fondness for these humble objects.

One of the things I find most intriguing about spindle whorls is how they connect us to the everyday lives of people who lived centuries ago. When I hold one of these whorls, I can’t help but imagine the person who once used it – perhaps a woman sitting by the fire on a winter’s evening, spinning wool while keeping an eye on her cooking pot and her children. It’s these glimpses into ordinary lives that I find most rewarding about our hobby.

Identifying spindle whorls in the field can sometimes be tricky, especially if you’re new to detecting. They can be confused with other small, round objects like buttons or gaming pieces. However, there are a few key features to look out for. Firstly, the central hole is usually quite large in proportion to the overall size of the object – this is where the spindle would have been inserted. Secondly, many whorls have a slightly domed or conical shape, which helped with the spinning action.

Dating these finds can be challenging, as the basic design didn’t change much over the centuries. However, there are some clues that can help. Earlier whorls, from the Anglo-Saxon and early medieval periods, tend to be plainer and more crudely made. By the later medieval period, you start to see more decorative elements – like the radiating lines on the one I’d just found.

Cleaning lead spindle whorls requires a gentle touch. Lead is a soft metal, and overzealous cleaning can easily damage the surface or any decoration. I usually start by gently brushing off any loose soil with a soft-bristled brush. If there’s stubborn dirt, a soak in distilled water can help loosen it. I avoid using any chemicals or abrasives, as these can react with the lead or scratch the surface.

As I carefully placed the whorl in my finds pod, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of connection to the past. This small object, which had lain hidden in the soil for centuries, was once an essential tool in someone’s daily life. Now it was my turn to be its custodian, to clean it, research it, and perhaps add it to my small collection of medieval artefacts.

The rest of my detecting session that day was fairly uneventful – a few more coins, a buckle, and the inevitable bits of lead scrap. But as I walked back to my car, the weight of that spindle whorl in my pocket seemed to carry more significance than all the rest combined.

For me, this is what metal detecting is all about. It’s not just about finding ‘treasure’ in the conventional sense, but about uncovering these small, everyday objects that tell us so much about how our ancestors lived. Each spindle whorl, each button, each coin is a tangible link to the past, a story waiting to be told.

So, next time you’re out in the fields and you dig up a small, round lead object with a hole in the middle, take a moment to really look at it. You might just be holding a spindle whorl, a humble tool that played a crucial role in clothing generations of people. And as you hold it, spare a thought for the person who last used it, spinning yarn on a long-ago day in a world so different from our own.