Burton's Burrswood

Burrswood Hospital © Ellen Leslie 2014

My step father died a few weeks ago, after fighting a cruel and unforgiving brain tumour over ten months. One small shining light through that whole desperate time was his palliative care at a most peaceful and inspiring place; Burrswood Hospital in Groombridge, near Tunbridge Wells. It is a Christian hospital, welcoming patients of all faiths and philosophies and offering rehabilitation, respite care and also palliative care. I told myself at the time that I would write about this amazing place to highlight the fantastic work carried out at Burrswood and, as this is a blog about historic buildings, to tell you about the beauty of the architecture as well.

In addition to the fantastic medical care, it was the love and kindness at Burrswood, shown not only to my step father in his last days, but to those of us with him, that truly amazed me. That love and kindness, by everyone who worked there, would have been welcome within any space but at Burrswood we were blessed with being in a most beautiful building as well, which only helped to enhance the feeling of peace and calm.

In the grounds of Burrswood Hospital ©Ellen Leslie 2014

The house was built in the 1830s by one of my favourite architects, Decimus Burton. He had also been responsible for large swathes of Regent’s Park in London, The Calverley Estate in Tunbridge Wells as well as the West Marina at St Leonards-on-Sea. The impact of seeing Burrswood for the first time could be imposing, if it wasn't for the soft, yellow warmth of the ashlar sandstone, the overall calm, solidity of the structure, not to mention the Gothick windows and the tudor-style headers! There is a uniformity in the design and yet the variation in roof line, setting of the individual bays and assorted decorative details, gives the feeling of a building that might have evolved, if Burton hadn't designed it as a single piece.  

The interior of the main building is also pleasing with fine panelling and a magnificent cantilevered winder staircase in the main reception. There have been later additions to the building, namely a church and a hospital wing, but these do not detract from its overall appeal and they enable Burrswood to function in its modern purpose. In addition to the medical care offered at Burrswood, it is possible for anyone to visit. There you can see the Church of Christ the Healer, built in the 1960s. You can also take tea in their tea room “Bocky’s” and enjoy the beautiful grounds and setting. Burrswood even offers swimming lessons! It is all part of the welcoming nature of the place.

I miss my step father terribly, but I take solace knowing that he left this life while in the best hands; cared for by people who demonstrate the greatest compassion.

Burrswood is a charity that receives no government assistance. If you would like to know more about it and even consider donating click here-> Burrswood.org.uk.

Church of Christ the Healer at Burrswood Hospital ©Ellen Leslie 2014

Central rear range at Burrswood Hospital ©Ellen Leslie 2014

The ground of Burrswood Hospital with modern hospital wing to the right, echoing Burton's original design ©Ellen Leslie 2014

Christmas at 18 Folgate Street

©Ellen Leslie

Just this week, I was taking a little seasonal stroll around Spitalfields, in London. The area is an architectural and historical enclave of Georgian townhouses that has been the homes and workshops for many waves of immigrants over hundreds of years, none more so that the refugee Flemish silk weavers in the 18^th and 19^th centuries. Once nearly lost to “progress” and City developers, the area was saved in the 1970s by a concerted campaign, led by the poet Sir John Betjeman, amongst others. If there were ever an example of the beauty and benefit of saving historic quarters in this modern life, it is Spitalfields.

While on the walk I found myself in Folgate Street and outside the unique home of the late Dennis Severs. He bought the house in 1979 and set about stripping the unprepossessing layer of 20^th century living back to how it would have looked 150-200 years ago. But what makes 18 Folgate Street special is that it doesn’t just show what it looked like, it also shows how it smelled, tasted and felt as well. It is staged as if it is still lived in, with no modern heating or lighting, which adds to its sense of authenticity.

The house is open to the public, but not every day and most of the time you need to book in advance. But luck was on my side. As my partner and I looked soulfully through the window at the warm and welcoming lit fire in the kitchen in the basement and pondered the next available tour times, David the curator stepped outside to tidy up before that evening’s visit. We got chatting, or more truthfully, my less-shy partner led the conversation and before we knew it David kindly invited us in.

It certainly was a bombardment for all the senses. You walk through the front door and leave the present day behind. We were transported back to the 18^th and 19^th centuries with the rooms set as if the Georgian and Victorian occupants had just left the rooms, with food and drink laid out, beds unmade and clothes discarded. The house is arranged with a story. The story is fictional but historically possible with the lives of a family (5 generations), visitors and tenants over the 150 years or so, from the 1760s to the beginning of the First World War. In the kitchen David was just cooking a Christmas hash on the small cast iron range for the “tenants” that supposedly live in sparse circumstances in the attic rooms. That food was to be laid out later for the evening tour. We sat around the warming range and talked about the house and Dennis Severs’ desire to bring people as close to the historical period as possible. We agreed it was virtually time travel. After we had steeped ourselves in the sights, sounds and smells of the dark and cosy kitchen, David showed us the rest of the house from the recycled medieval stoneware in the back basement that they would have used for building repairs, to the grand salon on the first floor, the main bedrooms on the 2^nd floor and the meagre tenant attic space above. Each room gave an immediate sense of being in the past.

© 18 Folgate Street Website

In truth, it is difficult to fully convey the magic of visiting 18 Folgate Street in a simple blog. You need to see it for yourself.  If you live in or are visiting London, this is a must. Booking in advance is important. You can enjoy it by day, but maybe more magically, you can experience it at night, all lit by candlelight.

You can read more about 18 Folgate Street here.  There was also a video of the house here, with an interview with Dennis Severs before he died in 1999.

More information about Spitalfields, its life and preservation can be seen on the Spitalfields Life website and through the East End Preservation Society. 

©Ellen Leslie

The Curious Incident of the Apollo Ceiling Falling In

A BBC journalist rang me last night to talk about the collapse of the ceiling at the Apollo Theatre. He wanted to know more about these kinds of buildings and what could have caused the collapse. But he opened the conversation by stating what he thought was the obvious fault; that these buildings are old and therefore no longer safe. God help us all in the heritage /building conservation business if that was the prevailing and accepted attitude!

I put him right immediately. It is not the age of a building that is the danger; it is the lack of investment, care and maintenance that poses the biggest risk to these beautiful buildings and to people using them.

The Apollo Theatre was built in 1901 by Lewen Sharp and is in the most stunning “Free Renaissance” style. It is a temple to the arts at a time when building standards were second to none. I said to the journalist that it is the sheer quality and strength of a Victorian/Edwardian building that will always make it a number one choice for me.  

But that does not mean these structures can exist without ongoing TLC by owners with legislative and financial help by the authorities. The Apollo takes nearly 800 people per performance, twice a day and 6 days a week! Such a human load would impact even modern buildings. Owners need to invest in their historic assets and government needs to help by easing the financial burden on repair and maintenance costs.

It is a mercy that the casualties were relatively small last night. It could have been far worse. Will this incident make owners and authorities alike redouble their efforts to ensure this doesn't happen again? We can but hope. 

The Beautiful and Enduring Houses of The Weald

Wealden Hall House - Bayleaf House © Weald and Downland Open Air Museum

I’ve just had an enquiry to research the history of a 15^th century Wealden hall house in Kent. This is a type of building that I have quite a bit of experience of and one that gives me enormous pleasure to research. Their innate timbered beauty, the quality of construction from so many centuries ago as well as their sheer survival makes these buildings a favourite of mine. As the name suggests they are usually found in The Weald in south east England. This is an area between the North and South Downs that runs from Kent to Hampshire, through Surrey and Sussex. Of course nothing is that cut and dry and you can find Wealden houses in Essex too.

A typical Wealden Hall House © Richard Haddlesey www.medievalarchitecture.net

Wealden hall houses were usually constructed in 4 bays with the 2 central ones enclosing a double-height hall with a central hearth. The smoke from this would escape through holes or specially made louvers in the roof. At one end of the hall there would be a screen, hiding a cross passage behind and beyond that two rooms known as the Buttery and the Pantry; the service rooms. At the other end the ground floor rooms tended to be the Parlor, where guests would be received, possibly with business or with matters to discuss; hence “Parlor” from the French “Parler” – To Speak.

Upstairs, the two end bays would provide the private family area such as sleeping quarters. These were known as the Solar and would be jettied, hanging over the two ends of the ground floor. Eventually a floor was inserted to create a full-length first floor and the central hearth was moved towards the cross passage or outer wall to create a fireplace and chimney stack. Initially, these timber-framed buildings were thatched and would have had wattle and daub walls. As time went on these would have been replaced with tiles on the roof and brick infill in the walls. The 18^th century was also popular to add an entire brick skin around the house. This is why often, timber framed buildings can remain hidden and are still being discovered today.

To illustrate, here are 2 examples of Wealden houses that I have researched. Both have changed significantly since the time of their construction, but beneath them are surviving Wealden Halls. The first is in Wadhurst (on the Kent and East Sussex border) and another on the far end of the Weald, in Kirdford West Sussex. Despite the extensive change and alteration in their long lives they still hold the fundamental dimensions and structure of their original construction. The house in Wadhurst is 14^th century and still retains soot-blacked beams in the roof, from the days of the double-height hall and the central hearth.

Wadhurst ©Ellen Leslie

The Kirdford house is a little more recent, around 1585 and had been in such a bad state of repair it was nearly demolished in the 1990s. Thankfully it was saved.

Kirdford©Ellen Leslie

So the Wealden Hall House endures. It was a popular style of construction then, and was a form that took centuries to evolve and eventually be replaced by new styles of architecture.

If you want to get up close with such buildings, visit The Weald and Downland Open Air Museum in West Sussex. This museum has rescued and reconstructed an amazing collection of traditional buildings from the south east of England, including Bayleaf House (see top picture).

Architecture for All

Brighstone 1950s Holiday Chalets ©Ellen Leslie

Brighstone 1930s Holiday Chalets ©Ellen Leslie

Yesterday, I came across some simple, brightly-coloured chalets at a holiday camp called Brighstone, on the Isle of Wight. It brought to mind something that the architectural historian Nikolaus Pevsner wrote in his book An Outline of European Architecture.  “A bicycle shed is a building; Lincoln Cathedral is a piece of architecture. Nearly everything that encloses space on a scale sufficient for a human being to move in is a building; the term architecture applies only to buildings designed with a view to aesthetic appeal." That was in 1943, and I think it is safe to say that today the definition of what architecture is has changed. Our view of what is aesthetically appealing has expanded, reflecting our more inclusive and equal society. 

Time was when “architecture” was the preserve of cathedrals, castles, manor houses and other “polite” constructions, usually with a named architect or builder connected with it; or it related to the revered designs of ancient Greece or Rome. Buildings associated with the common people rarely achieved “architecture” status in the eyes of Pevsner or his contemporaries. Not that he didn’t appreciate the prosaic, but, in short, a sixteenth century cow shed was a building and a sixteenth century castle was architecture.

The evolution and understanding of history has moved from that of kings and queens, wars, battles and landmark events, to include the lives of the ordinary people and this has impacted on our approach to architecture. Once upon a time you would visit a stately home and only see the grand rooms of the aristocratic family who had lived there; now seeing the kitchens and servants quarters is equally popular. Today the function of the building and therefore how it was designed or constructed gives it architectural kudos rather than merely whether it had high status or was visually or aesthetically appealing.

Back to Brighstone, this holiday camp is possibly the oldest surviving holiday camp in the UK, dating to 1932. Echoes of the comedy series "Hi-De-Hi" exist in the neat rows of brightly painted chalets, so specific of a time and a purpose. Many of the chalets date to the 1930s and are still very much used by holiday makers. Brighstone also has chalets and washing areas built in the 1950s with a very distinctive "Festival of Britain" flavour to their appearance. I would venture that Pevsner would not deem the chalets of Brighstone as architecture, but in our more egalitarian age, I think it would be difficult not to!

Brighstone 1950s Holiday Chalets ©Ellen Leslie

Brighstone 1930s Holiday Chalets ©Ellen Leslie

Of Hearth & Home

Penshurst Place with Central Hearth

I have been thinking about which features of domestic buildings, certainly in England, have had the most impact, not simply on architecture but also on changing society and people’s lives. There are a few candidates; glass in windows, brick replacing timber-framing and cavity-wall insulation to name but three. But I think the prize has to go to the humble fireplace and chimney stack.

I have just completed the history of a timber-framed house in the Weald of Kent. Its origins date back to the late 14th century. It isn’t the oldest building I’ve researched, but very nearly! Despite 700 years of change and alteration, the early days of the building can be most clearly seen in its roof and specifically the blackened king post (now no longer in a supporting role). Despite the house’s three floors and collection of several small rooms within its walls today, this building was once one open hall. 

Before fireplaces were introduced into domestic buildings, all living, eating and sleeping took place in the one space. Every person and domestic animal of the household lived around the central hearth. Maybe a mezzanine-type platform, known as a Solar, would have existed at one end of the room on which the master and mistress of the house slept, but everything else was communal on the ground floor and the space open to the roof. This explains the blackening of the 14th century timbers in the Wealden house. The smoke from the fire eventually escaped in various ways, through a hole in the roof or through the joints of unplastered tiles, under the eaves or through an open door or window.

An Early Hooded Fireplace

To find the origin of present day fireplaces we have to go back to Norman times, the 11th and 12th centuries. Their castles and other official strongholds tended to be of two or more storeys so having a fire in the central position was not practical. As a result they would put the fire in a shallow recess under an arch in the side wall of the chamber. The back of the recess sloped upwards and finished with a hole for the smoke to escape through the outside wall. Often there wasn't a recess for the fire itself but a hood was constructed over the hearth. 

Returning to the 14th century Wealden house; despite the presence of a large and imposing stone fireplace on the ground floor and a substantial brick construction on the first floor dating to the 16th century, the stack and hearth are relative newcomers in the story of this house. In the 16th century this was a yeoman’s house, a farmer’s house. So not a place for nobility, but not for peasants either. It was the quintessential rural middle-class home. 

16th Century 1st Floor Brick Wealden Fireplace 

The chimney was built on what was the eastern exterior wall and of all the changes in the long life of this house, the introduction of a stack and fireplace can be considered the most important. With the introduction of fireplaces at the side of the building, floors and ceilings could be inserted and designated rooms created. With fireplaces in general, significantly it introduced the concept of “Privacy” in normal domestic life. No other architectural development has had such a profound influence on our domestic structures and on how we conduct our lives. 

I find this pleasingly ironic as today in the early 21st century we seem to be on a wave of knocking down and knocking through - creating more communal living space. 

Bricks and Mortals

Discovering the history of the previous owners, and or guests to your property can be fascinating, but also sometimes grisly. Can you handle the truth? It is a wonderful thing, unlocking the history of your house. Whether you commission an historian like me, or decide to make the journey yourself; there is a sense of anticipation and excitement about what will be discovered. Is the house a real medieval hall house? Does the cellar belong to a much older building that had existed on the site before? Who built the house in the first place? What was it used for? Will the rumours about a famous resident or visitor prove to be true?

But when you are investigating the history of a building, you can't pick and choose the information. The complete story of a house would include the highs and the lows, the good times and the bad. Are you prepared to find out that your home has a darker past?

In 2012 I had three assignments in a row, where there was either a suicide, a suspicious death or financial ruin (which often preceded the former). Even though these properties were not mine, when researching you can easily become emotionally attached. And although finding the untimely and sad end to people's lives can be considered "run of the mill" in my work, I always take a sharp intake of breath when the evidence is revealed! It can be upsetting, particularly if you have followed the fortunes of a particular person from their birth to their final days.

One of the properties I researched was a mill in Buckinghamshire. I followed local press stories about the owner of the house from 1830 to the 1870s. He seems to have been a real character, either ending up in local tavern brawls, taking fellow local businessmen to court for various perceived transgressions, or one of his businesses catching fire (more than once) or even his own bankruptcy. The trail of his financial demise led to the day after he officially lost his fortune. The coroner's report which I found on Ancestry.co.uk confirmed that as a result of "intoxication", he had fallen into the river next to the mill. If that wasn't enough, 10 years later, his brother-in-law who had taken over the running of the mill had taken his own life in a first class railway carriage from London to Carlisle. 

Another house I researched was an 18th century long house on the South Downs in Sussex. A family had been the tenant farmers of land covering hundreds of acres for hundreds of years. I had traced their tenure from the tender early days in the 1630s up until 1913. The family was wealthy and well-established in the area. But this began to unravel when the head of the family, in 1844 was drowned off the south coast aged just 42. Things didn't really improve after that. Finally, in 1913 after over 10 years of rent arrears the patient landlord had to call in the debt. After over 250 years of farming that land, the family were forced to leave, the head of the family was declared bankrupt and even though his son took over the lease, within the year the house it was up for sale again.

The final example was an 18th century country house in Gloucestershire. From its construction in the 1780s it was occupied by a string of tenants and in 1903 the new tenants were a newlywed couple.  Local press in 1905 reported in lurid detail the tragic story of the wife, who following the birth of her first child had killed herself with a knife in the house. With the benefit of modern medicine and psychiatry for us in 2013 it is easy to see she had been suffering from post natal depression.

I always ask my clients, before beginning the research, whether they would like to have the "warts and all" story of their house; having said that, very few say no. Even where I am researching just the structural evolution of the house, more than the social side, most home owners decide to know all the gruesome details. Would you?

This first appeared  in countrylife.co.uk in January 2013