Showing posts with label Newent. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Newent. Show all posts

Thursday, April 23, 2026

Newent, Gloucestershire

 

Crafty

Straight away, it was familiar, this utilitarian building tucked away in the centre of the Gloucestershire town of Newent, where I might more predictably be looking at the medieval church* or the timber-framed market house.§ Striking me, with its odd, seven-sided walls-come-roof design, it called to mind a kind of Art Deco Nissen hut, but I couldn’t remember what this kind of building was actually called, or exactly what it would have been built for. I knew, though, that its origins were military, and that I might find the answer in Paul Francis’ excellent reference book, British Military Airfield Architecture.† And yes, this book provided the answer. It’s a Handcraft Hut, although it was not designed to house people crafting with their hands…

Handcraft Hits were first made in 1942 by the Universal Asbestos Company, whose factory in Watford was called Handcraft Works. They were built as accommodation for airmen and women at airfields, and were made by bolting together asbestos cement sheets, the corrugations of which gave them strength enough to stand up without a supporting framework. On a good solid base, all you needed was some brickwork (and a door at one end) and interior dividing walls (made of asbestos in the original design) that varied according to whether the hut was meant for officers or other ranks.

This example differs from the standard design in that large double doors have been fitted and a brick plinth is needed to allow the asbestos cements sheets to rest on a level footing. The doors and location suggest a commercial use in this case, and a sign tells anyone who needs to know that the workshop once active in the hut has now closed.

Not a particularly attractive building, many would think – fine for an airfield in time of war or a yard in peacetime. The use of asbestos must mean that a lot of these huts must have been dismantled (one hopes by people qualified and equipped to do so). So why spend time contemplating an ugly building in a material now condemned as dangerous and even potentially life-threatening? Perhaps because it’s an instance of the kind of ingenious engineering that sometimes happens in wartime. A material then thought of as something magical, combined with an ingenious design using corrugation, formed into a many-sided sheet, made for an ingenious and no-doubt cheap structure that could provide much-needed accommodation that could be erected quickly by people of limited skills. A bit of history that’s worth remembering and, found like this one in the middle of a country town, rather a surprise.

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* It was locked, alas.

§ Blogged, after an earlier visit, here.

† Paul Francis, British Military Airfield Architecture: From Airships to the Jet Age (Patrick Stephens Limited, 1996). Copies come up on the second hand market, but it’s not a common book and usually commands a premium price.

Friday, July 27, 2018

Newent, Gloucestershire


Hats on

These recent weeks of hot weather have seen me more often than not wearing a hat when out and about. The media have been full of advice about covering up and I’ve also seen statistics about the great temperature difference in the shade. I don’t need statistics, though – in sun this hot I instinctively make for shadows, overhangs, arcades, and other refuges, like this lovely timber-framed market house or Butter Market, built in c. 1668 in Newent. It has one big room upstairs and a ground-floor open-sided space for a market: the same layout as many others in English and Welsh towns. The timber work on the end in the sun is quite plain, but the side facing the street has a winning combination of diagonal and curved braces, together with curvy bargeboards to please the eye. The weather vane – in the form of a running fox – is an added touch of charm that catches the sun.

The space for the market has quite a low ceiling – there are about ten feet of headroom – and if not a forest at least a grove of thick supporting posts. The effect of standing inside it reminded me of a description by Ian Nairn of another market house, the one in Llanidloes. Nairn described the even lower space in the market house there as ‘a very personal possessed space: it is not so much a question of walking in but of putting it on like a hat.’ In Newent I tried on the building myself for a minute, before walking out again into the sunshine. The fit was not bad at all.

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§ See Ian Nairn, Nairn’s Towns (updated edition, Notting Hill Editions, 2013)