BUILDING WITHOUT TEARS.
The enthralling correspondence in the columns of our contemporary, The Spectator, on the subject of cheap cottages and how to build them, has evoked a vast amount of correspondence addressed directly to us. We select a few specimens which are recommended by their practical and businesslike character:—
The Merits of "Posh."
Dear Sir,—The question of Land Settlement after the War resolves itself in the last resort into the employment of cheaper methods of cottage building. Will you allow me to put in a word for the revival, in the neighbourhood of the sea, of the old Suffolk plan of building with what is locally known as "posh," after the name of the original inventor, who was an ancestor of Fitzgerald's friend. "Posh" is a mixture of old boots—of which a practically unlimited supply can be found on the beaches of seaside resorts—and seaweed, boiled into a jelly, allowed to solidify, and then frozen hard in cold storage. "Posh" is not only (1) impenetrable but also (2) hygienic, the iodine in the seaweed lending it a peculiarly antiseptic quality, and (3) picturesque, the colour of the compound being a dark purple, which is exceedingly pleasing to the eye. Lastly, the cost of production is slight, as the raw material can be obtained for nothing, and the compound can be sawn into blocks or bricks to suit the taste of the tenant. I am convinced that cottages of "posh" could be built for less than a hundred pounds a-piece; and at that figure cheap housing becomes a practical proposition.
I am, Sir, yours faithfully,
Decimus Dexter.
"Stooting" and "Marmash."
Dear Sir,—The choice of material matters little so long as it is properly treated. Any sort of earth will do, or, failing earth, a mixture of ashes with a little mustard and marmalade, the waste of which in most households is prodigious. But it must be properly pounded and allowed to set in a frame. For the former process there is no better implement than the old Gloucestershire stoot, or stooting-mallot, or in the alternative a disused niblick. The earth, or the "marmash" mixture, as I have christened it, should be poured into a bantle-frame—which can be made by any village carpenter—and vigorously pounded for about three hours. Then another bantle-frame is placed on the first, and the process is repeated. No foundation is required for walls erected by the plan of stooting, but a damp-course of mulpin is advisable, and it is always best to pingle the door-jambs, and binge up the rafters with a crumping-block.
I am, Sir, yours obediently,
Mungo Stallibrass.
The Beauty of "Bap."
Dear Sir,—When I was an under-graduate at Balliol more years ago than I care to remember, I not only took part in the road-making experiment carried out under Ruskin's supervision, but assisted in the erection of a model cottage, the walls of which were made of "bap," a compound which is still used in parts of Worcestershire. The receipt is very simple. You mix clinkers, wampum and spelf in equal quantities and condense the compound by hydraulic pressure. I have a well-trained hydraulic ram who is capable of condensing enough "bap" in twenty-four hours to provide the materials for building six four-roomed cottages. I am sorry to say that the "bap" cottage at Hinksey was washed away by a flood a few years ago, and the spot where it stood is no longer identifiable. But the facts are as I have stated them.
Truly yours, Roland Phibson.