Just how grim can it get up north? (Actually, it's quite nice.) One woman's not-so-lonely journey into the Northern heartlands.
Tuesday, August 07, 2007
The builders found a brick. Not so unusual; this one has a name written into it "William Lockie, Chathill". They found it in the wall they knocked down which once ran between the two cottages. They found it, then they lost it; piled up the lime covered red and yellow clay kitchen wall bricks to stand on the garden terrace and wait there for another purpose. Once you have been a brick standing in a wall, it must be difficult to consider other options. They found the brick again, read it and rejoiced. We have found the brick with a name, an example to bricks everywhere. In the arches, they are creating a hearth, a home. We have stone jambs and a windowsill which once belonged to a church to be the lintel. The builder carefully winkled out the mortar around one brick in this hearth, pulled out the anonymous and eased William Lockie's in. I hope it will not look as if he is buried there.
Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)
Any relation to this guy?
I work in the textile industry and there is a William Lockie in textiles. Wonder if there is any connection
What a nice builder. You've probably got bits of Hadrian's Wall in there as well!
Ask around in Chathill, someone will know. Or local historian?
No bricks made at Chathill now, nor many trains. Unless of course, I'm in a hurry ..
We bought a Charles and Diana commenorative blue brick which we intended to use as a door-stop in our kitchen. It disappeared somehow and re-appeared in the side of our brick-built barbecue. Do you think bricks with names on have a life of their own? At least it's a talking point, and I guess your William Lockie brick will be too. It sounds as if everything is going great now, I am so glad.
How wonderful. More history for your home. Makes me wonder if he made the brick or perhaps one of the cottages. There was a brick plant where I grew up and its bricks had been used to pave some of the old roads. Townspeople had paid to have their names on the bricks laid into the streets. When I was a child we used to walk up and down reading names, looking for one we knew.
Reminds me of when my newly married daughter was taken on a day out to visit a brick factory. She was not impressed. He should have seen the writing on the wall.
Post a Comment