Tudor & Stuart1485–1714
Wide lime joints between irregular hand-made bricks, often struck or lined with a point to look neater than they were.
The Craft
Every wall I work on was built by someone who knew their trade. A Tudor chimney, a Georgian arch or a Victorian garden wall each asks for its own bricks, its own mortar and its own joint. Here is what each job means through the periods. Choose a period below to see it.
Old bricks are soft and they breathe. Lime mortar lets damp out through the joints, so the mortar wears instead of the brick. Hard cement does the opposite: it traps water and the faces of the bricks blow off. I rake out by hand, match the sand and colour, and finish each joint to the profile the house was built with.
Wide lime joints between irregular hand-made bricks, often struck or lined with a point to look neater than they were.
Fine joints in lime putty. On good fronts, tuck pointing: the joint filled in a brick-coloured mortar, then a thin raised ribbon of white lime run along it to fake the look of finely gauged work.
Tuck pointing carries on for show fronts. Elsewhere, weather-struck and penny-struck joints, and dark ash mortars in sooty London.
Hydraulic limes and early cement-lime mixes, usually flush or lightly struck joints on soft red brick.
A good repair disappears. That means the right brick, the right size, the right bond and the right joint. I use reclaimed bricks where they belong and cut out and replace spalled bricks one at a time, rather than patching with filler or rebuilding more than is needed.
Thin, hand-made red bricks in English bond. Diaper patterns picked out in dark burnt headers, as at Hampton Court.
Flemish bond in yellow London stocks with red brick dressings. The Brick Tax of 1784 pushed makers towards larger bricks, so sizes vary by date.
Machine-made bricks brought by rail. Polychrome bands of yellow, red and blue, and pale gault bricks on smarter streets.
Soft orange-red facing bricks, terracotta details and moulded bricks, often with pressed Flettons behind.
Garden walls take more weather than any other brickwork: rain from both sides, roots, frost and the odd car. I take leaning walls down carefully, keep every brick worth keeping, and build them back true on proper footings, with copings that throw the water clear.
Tall walled gardens in red brick, stiffened with buttresses and piers, sometimes warmed by fireplaces for fruit.
Brick walls capped with brick-on-edge or stone copings, often over a double course of tile creasing to shed water.
Low front walls with piers and cast-iron railings set into stone copings. Many railings were cut away in the 1940s, and the empty sockets are still there.
Low walls with decorative terracotta copings and caps, sometimes with privet behind instead of railings.
The finest brickwork there is. Soft "rubber" bricks are cut and rubbed to exact shapes and set with joints barely thicker than a card. I repair and rebuild flat and segmental arches over sash windows and doors, matching the colour and the gauge of the originals.
Rubbed and moulded brick appears in late Stuart work for window heads, cornices and carved details.
The high point: flat gauged arches in bright red rubbers over every sash, set in lime putty with hairline joints.
Segmental and pointed arches, often in contrasting coloured voussoirs, with gauged work kept for the best fronts.
Revived by the "Queen Anne" style: rubbed red brick arches, aprons and pilasters on new houses.
Stacks stand in the worst weather on the house and lean as their mortar washes out. I rebuild leaning stacks, repoint them in lime, renew the flaunching and reset the pots, keeping the original corbelling and detail.
Showpiece stacks in moulded and twisted brick, each flue its own shaft, like those at Hampton Court.
Plain, sturdy stacks on the party walls with rows of clay pots, often half hidden behind the parapet.
Taller stacks with corbelled and oversailing caps, and decorative pots from the big potteries.
Tall, generous stacks in red brick, often with roughcast or tile-creased caps.
Stone sills and heads keep the weather off the most vulnerable part of a wall. I cut out and piece in decayed stone, replace sills that have cracked through, and rebed loose ones, avoiding the iron fixings that split stone in the first place.
Limestone window surrounds and mullions set into red brick walls.
Portland stone sills, keystones and string courses. Coade stone, a fired artificial stone from Lambeth, for ornament.
Yorkstone and Bath stone sills, carved lintels and stone bay windows on the main street front.
Stone and terracotta dressings, sometimes with early cast stone.
The first thing anyone sees. I relay and repair stone steps, reset kerbs and edgings, and rebuild the brick and stone that tiled paths sit within, keeping the old flags wherever they can be saved.
Rarely survives on houses: brick paviors and cobbles, mostly long gone.
Portland stone steps up to the front door, over a vault, with Yorkstone paving at street level.
Geometric tiled paths in red, black and buff, edged in rope-top tiles, with Yorkstone or granite steps.
Tiled paths carry on, alongside red and black quarry tiles and brick-on-edge edging.
Stone walls are built course by course with the right stone laid the right way up. I rebuild and repoint ragstone, flint and rubble walls in lime, keeping the coursing and character of the original.
Kentish ragstone, London's old building stone since Roman times, and flint for walls and churches.
Dressed Portland ashlar on grand fronts; rubble and flint for estate and garden walls.
Ragstone returns for Gothic revival churches, and knapped flint panels across Surrey.
Arts and Crafts rubble walls and stone garden walling around new villas.
Render is a coat that protects a wall, not a seal. I repair and renew lime renders and stucco, cutting back cement patches that hold damp and making good in materials that let the wall dry out.
Lime plaster and roughcast over timber frame and rubble, often limewashed.
Regency stucco, scored to look like stone: lime stuccos and Roman cement, patented in 1796, on Nash's terraces.
Italianate stucco fronts in Kensington and Pimlico, with Portland cement creeping into renders.
Roughcast and pebbledash on gables and upper floors, in the Arts and Crafts manner.
Old houses move. Most cracks can be tied back without rebuilding. I set stainless steel helical bars into the bed joints across the crack and repoint over them, so the repair is hidden and the wall can still flex. This one is a modern method, and an honest one: the old fixes often caused the damage.
Timber lacing and iron cramps, where anything at all was used.
Wrought iron cramps and ties in stonework. When they rust they swell and split the stone.
Iron tie bars through the building, held by the round or S-shaped pattress plates you still see on old walls.
Steel ties and early concrete: strong, but rigid and prone to rust.
On a listed building or in a conservation area, the rule is repair rather than replace, and like for like. I work in lime, match materials and methods, and am glad to talk to your conservation officer about what is planned before work starts.
Survivors are almost all listed: every original brick and joint is evidence and worth keeping.
Terraces built to the London Building Acts. Parapets, recessed sashes and gauged arches are part of what is protected.
Whole streets in conservation areas, where boundary walls, tiled paths and chimneys count as much as the house.
Increasingly protected for their brick detail, terracotta and craftsmanship.
London was rebuilt in brick after the Great Fire, and the rules, taxes and inventions that followed shaped every wall I work on.
The Great Fire. The Rebuilding Act of 1667 requires new houses in the City to be built of brick or stone.
Building Acts of 1707 and 1709. Timber eaves are banned in favour of brick parapets, and window frames are set back from the wall face. The Georgian street front begins.
Coade stone. Eleanor Coade's Lambeth works makes a fired artificial stone for keystones, statues and ornament.
The London Building Act grades houses into "rates" by size and sets rules for party walls and fireproofing, fixing the shape of the Georgian terrace.
The Brick Tax. Bricks are taxed by number, so makers turn to bigger bricks. The tax lasts until 1850.
Roman cement is patented by James Parker. Quick-setting and stone-coloured, it helps make Regency stucco possible.
Nash's terraces around Regent's Park are finished in painted stucco to look like stone.
Portland cement is patented by Joseph Aspdin. Over the next century it slowly displaces lime.
The Brick Tax is repealed. With the railways, bricks travel cheaply from all over the country.
High Victorian polychrome. Bands and patterns of red, yellow and blue brick spread across new streets.
William Morris founds the Society for the Protection of Ancient Buildings: repair, don't restore.
Fletton bricks from the clays around Peterborough are mass-produced and become London's common brick.
Cavity walls and cement mortar become standard for new houses. Lime falls out of everyday use.
Statutory listing of historic buildings begins after the war; conservation areas follow in 1967.
The return to lime. Conservation officers, surveyors and good tradesmen agree: old walls need lime, not cement.
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