written and posted by members of Lancashire Dead Good Poets' Society

Saturday, 18 June 2022

Chimneys

Gawd bless Dick Van Dyke and his motley crew of chimney-sweeps!  For which young boy, after watching the original film of 'Mary Poppins ', didn't hanker after being part of that gang for at least five minutes? If not precisely shimmying up inside soot-encrusted flues, then at least cavorting around, choreographed Cockney-style, across London's rooftop world of a starry night with one's mates and a few east-end gals, to the tune of "Step In Time". That's the romance beneath the grime.

By contrast, there's a paragraph in a Len Deighton novel set a few decades later in 1940s London that reads as follows: "The rain had started again. Douglas stared out of the window at the hunchbacked roofs and crippled chimneys. The wind gusted enough to send a cloud of smoke to darken his dormer window. Douglas smelled the soot, and the dirt irritated his eyes." That's the gritty reality.

It shouldn't be forgotten that the whole purpose of chimneys was to provide a path to carry smoke from domestic fireplaces up through the house and high enough into the air so that it might blow away and not pollute homes or gardens. Ironically, by the time 'Mary Poppins ' floated onto our cinema screens in 1964, the recently passed Clean Air Act coupled with the advent of domestic central heating meant that for the first time in several centuries new houses were already being built that had no fireplaces and no chimneys. 


I remember as a young child our home having a coal-hole at the back of the house, a room with only an external door, like a brick shed, into which the coalman would tip sacks of coal every few months and from which my Dad would fetch buckets (or scuttles as they were called) of the stuff to build up fires in the fireplaces of the downstairs rooms. By then the bedrooms had gas fires installed in their fireplaces. As the sixties progressed even the downstairs coal fires were replaced by electric ones (sometimes with a flickering flame effect). And then came central heating, fuelled by the gift of North Sea gas-fields. My parents-in-law were the last people I knew to burn coal, in their drawing-room fireplace, right into the millennium.

But the architectural legacy of fireplaces and chimneys survives. I've lived in many houses and owned a few of them over the years and they have all had fireplaces - often ornate features in rooms - and chimneys to match. In some, the fireplaces were still functional, converted from coal/coke to natural gas (and the chimneys required to be swept annually). In others they were purely decorative, often with a statue of Buddha or a vase of dried flowers standing in the grate. Occasionally they would provide an entrance to the living-room for a surprised and sooty fledgling, usually starlings.

My house on the strand has bricked-up chimney-breasts in the bedrooms but open grates in the ground floor rooms although I removed the mantlepieces for a more modern look. The fireplaces are no longer in use but on windy days I still get small falls of soot. (Fortunately, with wooden floors, the mess is easy to clear away.) And of course the row of chimney pots makes an ideal place for seagulls to sit and serenade the neighbourhood.

My chimney stacks are nothing special, squat red brick affairs with terracotta funnels typical of 1930s houses. Many Tudor and Georgian houses were topped with quite spectacular stacks that were fun as well as functional. These can be seen in many old market towns in the south of England (in the shires of Beds, Bucks, Hants, Herts, Oxon, or the sexes of the east, middle and south). Most of them have to stay put as grade II listed architectural treasures even though they may never smoke again; and of course they are not allowed to have tv aerials or satellite dishes disfiguring them. By the way, it was national Clean Air Day on 16th June this week - did anybody notice? Some of the most extravagant stacks can be found on our old palaces, such as Hampton Court (below). They don't get seagulls or starlings roosting on them - they have their jackdaws and ravens.


When old (non-grade II listed) houses get demolished, it has become quite normal practice for the chimneypots to be rescued for reuse in gardens and allotments, either as features in their own right, (particularly the taller and more ornate specimens) or as flowerpots. Good quality chimneypots fetch quite a price at garden centres these days, especially the ones with crown-shaped tops.

By contrast, in the south of France (which is where the blog is taking us next), cheminΓ©e as the locals call them (literally 'pathways' for smoke to travel up) from which our word chimneys is derived, are simple and unostentatious constructs, more like flues with discreet openings that barely poke up from the roofline, so that you'd hardly know they were there. Which may reflect the fact that the climate in that part of the world known as the  riviΓ¨ra doesn't require domestic fires except in the harshest winters.


The unlikely starting point for my latest poem came from some idle musings on a number of French words with a common root component: chemin (path), cheminΓ©e (chimney), chemin de fer (railway...literally path of iron; but also a card game). Chemin de fer derived from the Italian game of baccarat and was James Bond's favourite game (per the novel 'Casino Royale '). You don't need to understand the rules to enjoy the poem, which is an elegy for a glamorous femme. (Yes, she smoked like a chimney.)

Chère Minette
You left with an audacious sweep when
you commenced your last chemin d'affaire.
No one had guessed, hand close to your chest,
that you were heading south, nearly played out,
one final glorious fling on the rivière.

Your eyes had lost some of their azure allure
but we thought you indestructible as iron, tricked
out in finery, hiding the rust well. A shock then,
to receive a summons by post to Port Hercule
informing you were labouring for air.

Entropic of cancer, it was whispered at the tables
underneath the pall from Gauloises and cigars.
Putting it all out for The Count, we were told,
nightly chasing the nines through to dawn,
champagne flowing to brighten despair.

Wheezing, from your bed with view of the bay,
you made it sound like "I love this ghostline", then
folded. You were gone, who had so often joked 
you were God's chosen one. Distraught, we
twisted orphan fingers in your sainted hair.

Thanks for reading. πŸ˜Ž  Play nicely, S ;-)

65 comments:

Nigella D said...

I love it!

Shehnaz Somjee said...

Awesome

Laxmiben Hirani said...

Love It!Touches the heart and mind.

June Robinson said...

All those chimneys. How many are being used now we have big bills? 😰

Ross Madden said...

Brilliant Steve. Funny, fact-filled and what a great poem. πŸ‘

Debbie Laing said...

I loved your tour around our skylines - so well-written. And the great pictures, And the fabulous poem.

Boz said...

Chim-chim-cheroo... Nice one la! πŸ‘

Rod Downey said...

I can't decide whether or not you're having us on with your affectionate tribute to the Mary Poppins experience (LOL). It's a great blog, regardless, and a cracking poem.

Mark II Ford said...

Top blogging! Majestic sweep of the topic and what a clever poem. Kudos to you. πŸ‘πŸ‘πŸ‘

Jacqueline Woods said...

Fascinating read and a beautiful poem. Thank you.

Saskia Parker said...

A great read and a lovely poem.

Miriam Fife said...

Such an interesting blog. Thank you! We still have functioning fireplaces in our downstairs rooms, burning 'smokeless' fuel, good for toasting crumpets in winter. I loved the clever and touching poem.

Max Page said...

Great stuff Steve. We were advised not to brick our chimneys up completely as that invites damp, so we too have open but non-functioning fireplaces in two downstairs rooms but we kept the mantlepieces. Your poem is so well crafted.

Beth Randle said...

Good heatwave reading (LOL). I must say the south of France looks very inviting there. Well played with the brilliant poem.πŸ’™

Lisbeth Tex said...

Ooh, I love your poem. πŸ‘

Grant Trescothick said...

Excellent blogging Steve. That's chemins explained. It's a terrific poem too, very clever.

Malcolm Drysdale said...

I never had you down as a Mary Poppins fan :D
However, an excellent blog and poem, really enjoyed it.

Emily Blythe said...

Dried flowers in our fireplaces too. This was such a great read and I love how you've crafted your poem. Brilliant.

Jen McDonagh said...

What a great blog. I've come to expect the unexpected when reading your weekly posts but a poem inspired by a play on French words? I loved it all.

Dan Francisco said...

Brilliant writing. I doff my smokestack hat. πŸ‘

Robert Harries said...

That's good. I just Googled Minette out of interest: "iron ore of sedimentary origin, found in the south of Luxembourg and in Lorraine" - very clever poetry.

Charlotte Mullins said...

Coal holes! Yes, my grandparents had one, and coal fires (obviously) and Grandpa used to get the fire to take by holding a newspaper across the fireplace until you could see scorch marks on it. Thanks for reigniting a memory. I loved the blog and your latest poem. Brilliant Steve.

Harry Lennon said...

I really enjoyed this. Such a witty and entertaining post (even the bits about which birds sit on which chimneys - I'm guessing swallows in the south of France). Well done with the poem, one of your best I think.

Tim Collins said...

A great read and an excellent poem.πŸ‘

Writer21 said...

Lovely, original touches in the poem Steve; very imaginative.

I remember a chimney in the house before gas fires came along. There were still rag and bone men around.

Your blog brought back a wealth of memories.

No need for all this online stuff then!

Ben Templeton said...

Yes in future our rooflines will be streamlined and our air will be cleaner. Where's the romance in that? (LOL). Great photos and I loved your poem.

Dan Ewers said...

Excellent!

Amber Molloy said...

Beautifully written. I'd never thought much about chimneys. I love your clever elegy too.

Mac Southey said...

Tremendous Steve. I really enjoyed that.

Kevin Sterling said...

What's happened to your poetry collection Steve? Is it still in the works?

Celia M. said...

I love your blogs, always so well written regardless of topic. I think the latest poem is fabulous.

Stu Hodges said...

Thanks Steve, I really enjoyed this. The poem is ace. I'm wondering if, when I post this comment, I'll have to click on three chimneys to prove I'm not a robot.

Lizzie Fentiman said...

For some reason reading that made me feel nostalgic for the England of my girlhood (in the shire of Wilts - didn't get a mention!). Another delightful blog and what a beautiful poem.

Deke Hughes said...

Consummate is the word that springs to mind. What a great read. πŸ‘

Dani Merakli said...

I loved this. Big chimneys on houses is something that struck me when I first came to this country. Up there with red telephone boxes. The poem is a gem.

Martin Brewster said...

A fascinating read and stunning photographs. In the back of my mind I have a memory of seeing b&w pictures of rows of terraced houses all pouring smoke out of their chimneys. It's curious to think that despite the Clean Air Act and our skies are more polluted now than they ever were; the pollution is just less visible. I loved Chère Minette, a wonderful poem.

Sahra Carezel said...

Such a beautiful poem Steve. ❀️

Ruth Maxwell said...

That was a treat. So impressed you can write engagingly on such weird topics as chimneys, quinces and cement! What an excellent poem as well.

Anonymous said...

Smoking, Mr R!

Diana Maartens said...

A great read and a lovely poem. Thanks for sharing.

Poppy Deveraux said...

Superb. What a fabulous poem. πŸ‘

Jodie Ridehaulgh said...

Tremendous, Steve, so entertaining I read it twice. Goldfinches singing on my tv aerial right now, I can hear the song cascading down through the chimney.

Alistair Bradfield said...

A fascinating read, thank you. We now have a log-burning stove in our main fireplace and we never need the CH on in the main bedroom above because the heat passing up the chimney warms the bedroom as well, a side benefit. I enjoyed the blog, the illustrations, and the great poem. Bravo.

Carey Jones said...

What an excellent poem Steve. Love it!

Paul Jones said...

Thanks for sharing. That was a most entertaining post.πŸ‘

Vic Sourzak said...

Great blog, loved the illustrations, really impressed with the Chemin themed poem.

Neil Warburton said...

A most interesting blog. There is legislation in process to ban domestic coal fires from next year. They only account for 4% of all coal burned in the UK, the other 96% is industrial use and electricity generation. The biggest culprit has become domestic wood-burning stoves, especially when cheaper 'wet' wood is used as opposed to more expensive 'dried' timber. Expect further legislation there, as wood-burning stoves produce 3 times as much pollution annually as that from road traffic exhaust!

I enjoyed your themed poem, artfully done. πŸ‘

Ozzie Blake said...

Great blogging. After it had happened a few times, I got metal grids put on my chimneypots to stop birds falling down. That's a tremendous poem, so clever. I especially like "entropic of cancer" and "we twisted orphan fingers in your sainted hair". Brilliant, well done.

Gareth Boyd Haskins said...

Top quality that. πŸ‘πŸ‘πŸ‘

K0NR&D said...

Some of the chimney stacks in my street have plants growing on them, seeded by birds I'm guessing.

Gemma Gray said...

What a wonderful blog. As an east end gal I might well have been cavorting around the rooftop world too. All beautifully written and illustrated and I love the poem.

Jools said...

Great post, genius poetry (and loved the pics too). x

Myra DeJonge said...

Very good Steve. I really enjoyed this.

Brian Cassell said...

This was a great read, one of your best I thought. I loved the poem. πŸ‘

Anonymous said...

Bravo. Brilliant. πŸ‘

Marianne Gevers said...

Steve I so enjoyed this. Thanks for sharing. I love the poem.

Jenny Addicotes said...

Really very good. Great writing, beautiful poem.

Tyger Barnett said...

Excellent stuff Steve. We usually have pigeons on our pots, their cooing echoes down into the living room.

Hector Mykles said...

A fascinating post and most accomplished poem.

Sally-Ann Kirby said...

Ditto what many have already posted - great writing, amusing and informative at the same time, lovely pictures and a brilliant poem.πŸ‘

Mireille Perout said...

Tu as très bien fait ça!

Jay Henderson said...

That's really very good. Bravo Steve.

Dan Ewers said...

Fun to read and a super poem.

Tony Morrell said...

Most entertaining. That's a great poem.

Hannah Butterworth said...

A great read, so well written. Your clever poem is a treat.