Malmesbury Abbey in Wiltshire was bought from the agents of Henry VIII by a clothier named Mr Stumpe and converted into a woolen mill. When the antiquary John Aubrey visited in the 1660s the Norman nave still clattered with looms, and Mr Stumpe's great-grandson - Mr Stumpe, Esquire - plugged the beer-barrels in his cellar with wads of illuminated manuscripts. 'The manuscripts flew about like butterflies,' wrote Aubrey in a plangent vanitas. 'All musick bookes, account bookes, copie bookes &c. were covered with old manuscripts... and the glovers of Malmesbury made great havoc of them. Before the late warrs a world of rare manuscripts perished hereabout.'
Presumably the manuscripts were made from vellum. Medieval illuminated calfskin gloves? Quite an accessory and not something you're going to find at Bicester Village.
From In Ruins by Christopher Woodward, which I'm re-reading. I never used to re-read. Is it something that happens when you hit your 40s?