The Boon of Mills

Countryside Column for 25 October

The Boon of Mills

One of of the joys of living in the country is surveying the various historic agricultural and industrial buildings scattered about:  a crook barn here, an oast house there and, of course, the many mills.

I’m lucky to live opposite a magnificent Georgian watermill.  It’s a local landmark, now converted into flats.  But for a long while it was touch and go whether it would survive.  

It ceased work around 1930 when my grandfather bought it for a store. I remember playing in it as a child, gingerly avoiding the wheels and cogs and pulleys and open chutes. Then thieves stole the lead from the valley roof, rain rotted the floors and joists and the building slowly became derelict. Many schemes were mooted to save it but the cost appeared prohibitive.  Finally my father found someone who sunk a huge amount of money into a restoration project.  I remember the excitement, as it neared completion, of seeing lights switched on for the first time in living memory.

Other mills nearby have also been narrowly saved from destruction.

One of the most poignant tales is the Rolvenden windmill. It was lovingly restored by the parents of an 18 year old boy killed in a road accident in 1955, and stands still as a memorial to him.

Recently I found a local windmill I’d never seen before. It’s a huge five-sailed affair dominating the ridge across the valley in Sandhurst. But how could I have missed it?  The reason is that the main wooden part, the “smock”, was demolished in 1945, leaving just the low brick base.  Then, a few years ago, they constructed a replica, based on original photographs.

Finding an excellent book entitled ‘The Mills of Man” by George Long has sparked my interest.  My copy itself has an eventful history. Published in 1931 and acquired by Swinton and Pendlebury Public libraries, it did not prove popular. No borrowings are recorded before it was discarded two years later.  Next the Shoreditch Training College Library owned it. Possibly when the college moved from Hoxton to Englefield Green in Surrey in 1951, it was offered for sale at £2.00. Which, I assume, is when my father bought it.  But it’s a wonderful read, full of the romance of mills and dire warnings of their imminent demise.  And that was eighty years ago.