#chimney pots

[emmaklee]

what’s the collective noun for chimneys? anyway, there they are, in Paris

ph Julian W / flickr

[vanishingsydney]

Last day of autumn. Rare remnant. Surviving row of very old terrace houses, most likely dating to the 1870's. Would have been nice and toasty in winter, with those four pot chimney's running a coal-fired fire place on either side in each house. Chippendale.

[billsmugs]

photos.billsmugs.com

[photowilliams]

The Old & The New

Newcastle/Gateshead. UK.

[metrocentric]

Glasgow

[dystopiancatalyst]

Here’s my final for Illustration! I did a digital and traditional version and they all took forever lol. I chose to illustrate that scene from the book Howl’s Moving Castle where Sophie marches into the waste to fight the witch all by herself. 

Commissions are open! 

[caz]

Chimney pots always make me think of my Uncle Tom. He was a train shunter & a piper (bagpipes). His most important job though, every day, was to get up at 5am to clean the fire grates & hearth & set the fire for the day. I was amazed that he would get up so early to do this. As a child I was also amazed that he (a man) did it & it wasn’t left to my Auntie Beryl to do. It was all timed to perfection & when he had finished he would set the fire & then make a pot of tea for Auntie Beryl to wake up to. In hindsight it was probably the little thing that he did to afford her privacy with her morning ablutions.

As I child I remember visiting my Uncle Tom & Auntie Beryl. She was bonkers in the best possible way an Auntie can be. When she was a young woman, for some reason she was asked to take a urine sample to the doctor. She turned up with an R Whites lemonade bottle full of pee.

Uncle Tom had that way about him that just made you know everything was going to be alright. He had a great trick of pretending my parents didn’t want me to do something to get me to do it. Like climb the Scott Monument in Edinburgh or go to the corner shop on my own to get bread (in the days when it was safe for an unaccompanied 7 year old to do that) because we’d been eating toast that was toasted in front of the fire all day.

Uncle Tom was a piper in a band & there would always be that hope that he was taking part in some competition or other. I would be so excited to hear him practicing his bagpipes in the house & he looked so resplendent in his kilt & pipeband uniform.

So anyway… chimney pots make me think of my Uncle Tom…

[commorancies]

Roof view from part way up the tower of the University Church of St Mary the Virgin, Oxford, England. (by commorancies)