I've thatched many types of buildings, but my favourite are churches, and the thatched church is an East Anglian speciality.
I started here today..last thatched in 1954, and before that in 1880.
A privilege to be part of such a lineage.
It's a big roof...I may be some time.
A roof I thatched, in the village I grew up in.
My father grew up in the same village-the thatch I replaced would have been old when he was a lad.
This new coat of thatch will still be there when my sons grow up, and their children too.
The past, present and future, entwined.
I spent part of last year working on this church.
The largest roof I've thatched, and I think one of my favourites.
It's stood for 600 years and still forms the heart of the community. I met many different people while there, and the church meant something to each of them.
I'm Nick Walker, a Master Thatcher based in Norfolk, UK.
@sibuckphoto
recently joined me and has taken excellent photos-in the coming days, I'll share these with an explanation of what I'm doing in each of the shots.
So if you want to learn more about thatching, come along...
It's June 1953, and Ringsfield Church is being completely rethatched for the first time in 70 years.
And now, another 70 years on, and I am following in the footsteps of those who came before me and rethatching the same church.
In a world of rapid change, some things remain.
This is the face of a thatcher who is just finishing a the biggest roof he has thatched, during the wettest autumn he has worked through.
Relived, tired, dirty and proud.
Photo by
@sibuckphoto
The final roof of 2021.
This beautiful late Victorian lodge cottage, just outside Norwich, is the most complex and challenging roof I have worked on.
Filled with features and varying roof levels, it had me scratching my head at times, but I found it deeply satisfying to thatch.
I went to look at a thatched roof in a remote hamlet on the edge of the marshes, and visited the nearby church at the same time.
England's churches have been called the greatest folk museums in the world, and you can see why here...
Stripping old thatch from the church roof today.
70 summers of heat and dust, 70 winters of rain and grime, all ingrained in my skin.
I could have found a safe desk job, away from muck and grime, sun and rain.
I'd have hated every minute.
@sibuckphoto
captures it all superbly.
A glorious autumn day,so I walked 20 miles through remote Suffolk countryside.
I found this beautiful Tudor farmhouse, long deserted and deeply isolated,slowly sinking back into the land it was built from.
A handmade roof.
The straw is prepared by hand, the hazel wood cut and split by hand, the ridge line is cut by hand.
The direct connection between materials and handwork is good for the roof, and good for my soul.
An ancient key,found between rafters of a Tudor house. It looks deliberately placed,possibly indicating the old belief of using iron at home thresholds to ward off witches.
It is staying put,just in case. I am in Suffolk,after all....
A very traditional cottage in Suffolk, which I finished thatching today.
The roof is long straw,with a flush ridge and rolled gables,very typical of local vernacular tradition.
Not that many roofs like this remain,so it is a privilege and a pleasure to carry this one forward.
The quintessential image of the English rural idyll.
The ancient thatched cottage, built in 1390, all mullion windows and roses round the door, the high June skies, the thatcher posing before his work with only a slight hint of pretentiousness.....ahh, the English summer!
Thatch exists across the world in many forms. It is a roof covering of natural materials-where I am, those materials are reed and straw, fixed with hazel.
In this shot, I'm trimming part of a straw roof, with hazel rods holding this area down.
All local, all natural, all handmade
One of the privileges of my thatching work is access to some extraordinary buildings.
This huge, beautiful 17th Century tithe barn left me in awe-the scale, the timbers, the history.
A cathedral of agriculture
A Long Straw cottage I have just completed.
Materials used (excluding wire netting and chimney flashings)
•Straw
•Hazel
Tools used
•Wooden Mallet
•Iron Needles
•Knife
•Shears
It is a low tech, old fashioned, time consuming and deeply satisfying way to create a roof.
There is a great deal of physicality in thatching.
It can be the outright power lift of heaving bundles of straw or reed onto your shoulder and ascending a ladder to the apex of the roof, or it can be the delicate finesse of the finishing touches, such as trimming the eavesline
As a thatcher, I worked alone for 5 years when I first set up.
For the last 8 years, Olly has been with me. He has learnt the craft and become a great thatcher in his own right.
If you can find a job you enjoy, shared with company you like, then work never feels like work.
Carrying out some thatch repairs on the most remote roof I've worked on.
An old marshman's cottage way out on vast expanses of Halvergate Marshes, the materials had to be carried down the last quarter mile of muddy track.
I loved every minute of being there.
A new ridge on a gorgeous pair of cottages in Brooke, South Norfolk.
I grew up in this village, and the last time this roof was thatched, I was 14 years old.
I'm now 41, and to be working back on home turf is a delight, reaffirming a deep connection with place.
Yesterday, the vicar of the church which I'm currently thatching carried out a thatch blessing ceremony-not something I've experienced before, but rather lovely. Even had my leggett blessed.
You can read a bit more about in today's EDP
I love this shot by the masterful
@sibuckphoto
for it captures the dynamism of thatching.
The reed is thrown from ground to scaffold, then carried up to working level.
After many years, one's balance is sure enough to walk up the ladder hands-free so bundles can be carried up.
Wally Mason.
Reedcutter, marshman, eel-catcher, poacher, raconteur, and my friend.
For 70 seasons, Wally has cut reed out on the marshes of Norfolk, and the tales he can tell....
This brilliant shot by
@sibuckphoto
perfectly captures the weathered visage and glinting eye.
The longevity of a thatched roof is partly determined by how well the sway (the rod which pins the layer of reed to the roof frame, shown here by the knife resting on it) is covered.
I aim for at least 6-7 inches. This should give 60 years or more.
This roof will outlast me.
I love old buildings, which is a good thing as I spend my days working on them.
This is Westhall Church, deep in the Suffolk countryside.
With sections dating from 1120, and multiple layers of history added every century, this place is a palimpsest of styles and designs.
Thatching is extraordinarily consistent-materials, techniques and tools have only altered slightly over the centuries.
The tools shown here, in 1948, would be instantly recognisable to a thatcher 500 years before.
They are also tools I possess, and use on an almost daily basis.
Hot day here in Norfolk, and working in these conditions isn't much fun.
Instead, I'm doing job estimates and a follow up visit to a roof I finished at the end of last year.
Fastening down the ridge on the windiest roof I've ever worked on! Using hand riven hazel, the straw is pinned tight to the roof.
The wind makes the straw misbehave, but now it is tightly down, just needing a trim and tidy up.
This roof is thatched with longstraw, a technique now unique to East Anglia, though once much more widespread.
Old varieties of wheat are grown, as the stem length is longer. Cut with a binder into sheaves and later threshed, a mix of ears and butts will show on the surface.
The best of the withies I have removed from the roof. Hazel,bramble,willow for tying the thatch down on the roof when it was built in 1550.
The person who tied them was probably thinking about Henry VIII,or Mary Tudor raising an army nearby in Framlingham.
Beats Brexit,I guess.
Where I live.
A remote, ramshackle cottage down a long bumpy track, on the edge of the marsh.
It's minus 4° this morning, and it is utterly breathtaking.
Just getting started on a beautiful, feature packed roof, in the village I grew up in.
It was once inhabited by a rural writer named George Ewart Evans, a favourite of mine, so it feels like a real privilege to be working here.
Thatching requires skill, knowledge, a good eye, and a strong pair of hands, but few tools.
A longstraw roof can be completed with a mallet, shears, a rake, a billhook, and a pair of iron needles to control the straw.
This simplicity makes each roof unique to its thatcher.
These are the arms of Wally Mason, reedcutter and marshman.
An extraordinary man in his 70s, Wally has seen huge changes during his life.
Yet thatching and reedcutting remain mostly unchanged. The nature of this work means AI will never be able to replace the skilled craftsman.
The finishing stages of a roof in South Norfolk
The reed is hand cut in the local marsh
The straw is grown a few miles away
The hazel wood was cut in the next village
95% of the materials for this roof come from within 15 miles
Local and sustainable, beautiful and practical
Thatching a long straw roof in Suffolk.
Overlook the scaffold, aluminium ladders and my attire, and this is a scene that has been repeated over the centuries.
These are uncertain, scary times, but there is a gentle, quiet consistency to aspects of life-let's embrace the good.
Reed.
A winter harvest from the marshes, estuaries and wetlands, the bundles are cut and cleaned out in the hardest of weather
The reed is tied into bunches measuring 3 handspans round, and sold to thatchers in spring and summer
This bundle may last well over 70 years on a roof
The inside view of a lovely little cart lodge in Norfolk.
Clay lump walls, rough hewn rafters and reed fleeking with thatch laid on top.
Easily built from materials to hand 300 years ago.
This is beautiful, simple, sustainable and natural architecture.
Each layer of straw is pinned to the layer underneath with a peg made of hazelwood.
Here, I'm riving the wood into sections, then sharpened and twisted to make a wooden staple.
These are named brotches in Norfolk&Suffolk, but elsewhere called spars, springels, spits or scollops
The most important asset that a craftsperson possesses is The Eye.
The Eye is the ability to see how the materials work, judge how best to use them, and know when they have been applied correctly.
Some people have The Eye for a craft straight off, others earn it over years.
Thatching with long straw, South Norfolk.
Working direct from a ladder, the only tools on the roof are a wooden mallet, and two iron pins to control the straw.
This is hand work, and that makes it soul work.
Thatched roofs can be big, often covering many thousands of square feet.
Despite the overall size, the tiny final touches make a big impact.
Here, I am trimming the line of the eaves. Taking off a quarter inch can make a huge difference to the finish, and all is judged by eye.
Reed is a winter harvest, and today I visited Cley, up on the North Norfolk coast.
The Bishop family have cut reed here for generations, and Bernie Bishop is now in his sixtieth season of cutting.
It's a privilege to be able to buy quality local materials from wonderful folk.
Sat in a wild acre, on the edge of the marshes, a long forgotten cottage.
As soon as I saw it, I knew I wanted to live here.
And this weekend, on the winter solstice, as the light begins to return to all our lives, I shall be spending my first night here.
This shall be home.
It is the time when reedcutters are getting cut reed from the marshes, and thatchers are collecting it for use over the coming months.
This reed is from Cley, in North Norfolk, and I've brought it down to the south of the county, ready to go on a roof just five minutes from home.
The flush ridge.
Used on long straw roofs, the ridge should sit in perfect pitch with the main elevation.
The simplicity belies the difficulty in getting it spot on, tight and flush and pitched correctly.
But when you do, it is deeply satisfying.
I recently had the pleasure of welcoming the crew from
@BBCCountryfile
onto the roof.
The episode airs tonight at 8 pm on BBC1 and focuses on the legacy of Suffolk writer Ronald Blythe and the crafts about which he wrote.
Tune in for more about thatching and Suffolk crafts.
One of the commonly asked questions about thatching is 'do you find things living in the thatch?'
Not much lives in the thatch itself, but when stripping an old roof, as I was doing yesterday, one may encounter a wasp nest.
This empty nest is the biggest one I've yet found.
These are age old methods, and are entirely natural, sustainable and traditional-but most importantly they produce a roof that performs brilliantly, keeping on warm and dry in winter and cool in summer, a durable roof and I would modestly say, a beautiful roof.
Wally Mason. 72 and still cutting reed.
Probably the last reedcutter in Norfolk to cut by hand, time spent with Wally is magical.
He is full of knowledge and mischief and charm.
With the winter solstice yesterday, the year has once again pivoted and we have begun to slowly swing towards the sun.
I rose at dawn (easy when sunrise is at 8.03am) and walked the frozen marshes around my cottage, on the most gorgeous morning of the winter.
A miserable day today, in terms of the weather, and also in terms of my spirits.
The only thing that seemed to make sense was to cut, whittle and shape some wood.
So I did.
I'm still miserable, and it's still raining, but I do have a new spoon.
A year ago, I was thatching this church on coast of Suffolk.
Now, my sons and I are eating fish and chips, jumping in the sea, and enjoying it's monolithic presence on the clifftops.
A roof I thatched this summer,in North Suffolk.
The reed,straw and decorative hazel rods all came from within a 25 mile radius.
This is a handmade,natural,local roof, thatched in a style that has seen very few changes in the 500+ years this house has been standing.
An essential part of thatching straw production is threshing.
I spent the day around vintage machinery-the drum threshes the wheat sheaves, removing the grain.
The straw is trussed, then stacked up.
The process is archaic, labour intensive and utterly wonderful.
This is a roof I thatched over winter, and I returned to see how it settled in.
I used the same techniques used on the roof for the last 600 years-threshed longstraw, grown locally secured with coppiced hazel, cut and split by me and my assistant.
Examples of clay lump built houses in East Anglia.
When combined with thatch,the result is thermally efficient,ultimately sustainable and beautiful to behold.
These houses are built from the land on which they stand,and the old technology outperforms much newer methods.
I live in a remote and ramshackle cottage on the edge of a marsh.
It can be windy, damp, cold and sometimes flooded.
But I love it, and as this is the view from my front door today, you can probably see why I love it.
I adore an abandoned cottage, and today I found this one, way out on the marshes.
Inhabited until not so long ago, the echoes of a previous life still sound strongly here.
This is where I am working today. Carrying out repairs on Heckingham Church, South Norfolk.
Nestled in a fold in the land, time stands still here and the heady scents of May blossom fill the air.
An autumnal thatching scene, complete with an elaborate, enormous chimney.
The building is a Victorian lodge cottage for a grand hall. In the classic style of the period, the building is packed with ornate features. The roof itself is by far the most complex I've ever worked on.
It isn't thatching related, but it does have some history stuff, and I know some of you find such things mildly interesting.
Basically, it's just me waffling on about stones.
A selection of the tools I use to thatch a roof.
The real joy of hand tools is the direct connection with the work.
No motors,engines or gears transfer human power and skill direct to the roof,creating an intimate relationship between person,tool and the item being created.
My cottage, with flooded marsh behind. Here in the Waveney Valley, farmers use the land traditionally as grazing marsh.
Every year the river floods, but the grassy marsh bisected with dykes acts a giant sponge.
Properties are rarely damaged, showing old ways are sometimes best.
Thatching a roof valley.
Whilst not complicated, to get this feature correct one has to get the right shaped bundle of reed for the right spot.
Reed varies widely in shape and size, and one has to listen to what the material wants to do then use it accordingly.
Collecting reed from the local marshes.
Reedcutters Wally and Luke are father and son.
Now in his 70's, Wally still cuts by hand.
Marshman, eel catcher, poacher, drinker, raconteur-and one of the most charming, extraordinary characters I know.
Harvesting reed for thatching in Norfolk, 1886.
Cut in winter when the leaf has fallen, reed cutters welcome hard weather as the marsh freezes solid and is easier to walk on.
Not so good for actually thatching, so I'm by the fire, reading old books about thatching instead.
A hot spell, and while work on the roof has been ongoing, today was a pleasant change, for I headed to my local river, the Waveney.
I spent the day waist deep in cool waters, gathering bulrushes with
@RiverWaveney
. These will be woven into furniture seats by
@par_avion_co
A longstraw, flush ridged cottage.
This building has stood for several centuries, witnessing wars and plagues, as well as happier times.
Our current times are turbulent, but in some things we can find a quiet continuity.
Repairing some storm damage on one of my favourite buildings, the 11th Century Uggeshall Church.
This extraordinary building, with it's rare thatched tower, is very special to me. I put the ridge on it nearly ten years ago, and came to know and love it then.
Greetings to followers, old and new. I try to use Twitter to share my joy and my job-the thatching of roofs.
My work, and my wider life, tends to revolve around natural materials and an older rhythm, so do join me to find out more.
Photo by the marvellous
@TomBunning
The stages of thatching an Edwardian tennis court in the grounds of a stately home in Norfolk.
Using local materials, this lovely building has been given a new lease of life.
Thatching on the Isle of Skye.
I have helping
@tomxallan
with a blackhouse he is thatching.
Using Scottish reed, it has been a brilliant experience, learning about different techniques and styles of the this most vernacular of crafts.
In the hazelwood.
Thatching uses a lot of hazel, and I love getting out in the woods to coppice.
This not only benefits my material supplies, using high quality and local wood, but also benefits the hazel itself, for coppicing keeps the woods alive by allowing light and regrowth
The appearance of a thatched roof belies the simple techniques used to create it.
Straw and split hazel, a mallet and a knife-when placed in skilled hands, these base materials go through the alchemy that is craft to end up as a beautiful and durable roof.
Photo by
@tombunning
If you are interested in thatching, I would highly recommend following
@villagethatcher
Exquisite work from one of the best craftsmen in the country, Joe works in Herefordshire and Warwickshire, so you'll see some of the fascinating regional variations present in thatching
The ridge is constructed from 4 small layers of wheat straw held in place by the decorative Hazel work. All cut by hand.
#thatching
#craft
#herefordshire
I had the pleasure of meeting
@katehumble
and doing some thatching together.
This is going to be shown on
@channel5_tv
on Kate Humble's Coastal Britain, this Friday at 8pm.
Tune in for gorgeous Suffolk scenery, interesting local characters, and some bloke banging on about thatch
Collecting reed from my local marshes this-400 bundles ready for a roof just ten miles away.
A lot of reed is imported into the UK, from all over the world.
With rising shipping costs, geopolitical uncertainty and carbon footprints, it always feels better to buy locally.
And so it begins....the largest roof I have worked on.
This is Pakefield Church, or half of it as there is another identical roof on the other side.
100 ft long, 25ft rafters-it is huge.
@ollywatsonpoet
is shown for scale at the right of the photo.
Hand-crafting a ridge, using natural materials.
The straw is from about 12 miles away. The horizontal liggers, made by
@ollywatsonpoet
, come from a woods 15 miles away. The hazel pegs, or brotches, were cut and made in Hampshire by
@Oak_and_Hazel
.
My cottage, and the unkempt but lovely front garden.
I don't own a lawnmower, so when the bees have had their fill and the cow parsley has finished, I will scythe it down and see what grows next.
A trailer of nearly 14,000 hazel brotches, or spars. The kids and I drove to Hampshire to collect these from
@Oak_and_Hazel
.
Yes,you can get cheaper imported ones, but these are higher quality, keep Britain's hazel woods in cycle and skilled woodsmen in business.
It makes sense.
A flush ridge on a Suffolk long straw roof.
In keeping with tradition, the ridge sits flush to the main roof and is fixed with 5 hand split hazel liggers.
Though not as dramatic as a cut and patterned ridge, the simple lines and elegant finish is very appealing to my eye.
Tea break time!
Working the woods today, coppicing hazel.
I love being in the woods, and coppicing is one of the seasonal tasks that make thatching such a diverse and joyful job.
A new ridge and a tidy up for this very charming lodge cottage in Breckland.
One of five identical buildings, dating from 1830, these lodges surrounded the Shadwell Estate near Thetford.
I've really enjoyed working here, in large part due to lovely clients.
My cottage. It has proved a haven here, shared with the natural world.
I have been living slowly and calmly.
I know not everyone is so lucky-I wish I could share this place with you all.
Keep going everyone, and take pleasure in the everyday joy of small things.
Out strolling with my children, I encountered this little beauty on the road.
Safely placed in a nearby wood, it was a lovely, hands on encounter with one of our cutest countryside inhabitants.