May 2017 was when Matt contacted us with a view to providing oak framed elements to his new build family home that was going through the planning process near Newmarket in Suffolk. Despite everything running smoothly and to plan, it has still taken just over a year to be in a position to erect the frames. Building in the UK requires patience and stickability it seems.

We actually finished the oak work just before Christmas and parked the frames until Matt was ready for us.

In the workshop – the king posts and ridges all assembled complete with bracing.

Two porch crossframes with jowled posts for the project in the workshop.

Wallframe – ready for taking apart.

This year’s prolonged cold spells played havoc with the groundworks and caused lengthy delays, but finally we were able to load up and head East for the raising, hoping that a) the frame had not dried out and moved too much in the intervening 5 months, and that b) we could remember how it all fitted together.

Loaded up at Castle Ring Oak Frame

The oak had already been delivered to site earlier in the week and we were able to make a prompt start on Thursday morning with Simon our crane driver from Huntingdon Plant. The oak work consisted of a 2 bay single storey vaulted kitchen/dining room, 2 porches and 3 internal partition wall frames.

Gable truss being pegged together to lift in whole.

Lowering the gable truss onto the post tenons

Slinging the 2nd king post truss

Flying it over the masonry. We often attach the ridge braces to make life easier later on

Number 2 ready for landing

Last one, number 3 with a through tenon at the kingpost/tie beam joint

Just the ridge to go

Simon the crane driver from Huntingdon Plant

Pegging up the ridge

By lunchtime on a perfectly clear and baking hot day, we had finished the roof of the main vaulted structure, which meant we could concentrate on the porches and individual frames in time to send the crane home at 4pm having done all the heavy lifting. Matt had decided to temporarily support the porches on blockwork, with a view to propping them at a future date, and building the brickwork up underneath them – a good way to ensure that the brickwork ends up in the right place!

Friday turned out cooler and damp but we still dodged the rain and so were able to enjoy putting the finishing touches to our work with the pressure off – driving in all the hand made pegs, fixing the ridge and purlins down onto the trusses, and fitting the oak common rafters to the 2 porches.

Pegging up and fixing down on Friday morning

Porch rafters fitted

Main structure with side porch

The smaller of the 2 porches

One of the internal frames

So no, the frame hadn’t moved, and we didn’t forget how it went together. Good luck to Matt as he oversees the rest of the build!

Last Thursday we were due to raise two small oak frames adjoining a property on the edge of the Long Mynd. Three years in the planning, Trish and Gary’s project had finally reached a point where they would get to see some oak!

Photos of the frames in our workshop:

The Beast From The East had passed through leaving it’s trail of magnificent destruction from Siberia, snow drifts had melted, scaffolding was readied, Trish’s biscuit tin was full, what could possibly go wrong…..

As we left Castle Ring early on the day of the raising, all seemed set fair, but trundling over the Shropshire hills towards the Stiperstones, a few intermittent snow flakes developed into something a little more sinister, and by the time we had climbed up to the edge of the Long Mynd, there was a ground covering of the white stuff. Needless to say, the crane got stuck, we got stuck, the haulage company delivering the oak got stuck, and by 9am we had called off the raising – for the first time ever. We grumpily slunk back home and licked our wounds over the weekend, wondering whether Trish and Gary would ever get to see their sunroom and extension.

The answer was yes!

Lean to gable framed by a beautiful blue sky

Lifting the first crossframe into place. Sometimes it’s easier to preassemble rather than craning each piece in at a time

There she flies. We’ve attached the ridge brace too to save time

What is that??

Assembling and pegging up a complete crossframe for the extension

The main extension gable frame comprising 14 pieces being put together on trestles

The strength of Jake. One handed!

The last ridge piece being lowered into place. Gary capturing the moment

Scaffolding can be annoying sometimes. There’s an oak frame behind there somewhere

The joisted mezzanine in the extension

Adam pegging up

All done. Stiperstones just visible in the background

Yesterday we finally got the frames up and it was a beautiful clear and still day. Jake, Adam and I assembled the sunroom first by midday, and finished the extension in the afternoon. Trish and Gary had rinsed the biscuit tin between Thursday and Tuesday which nearly resulted in a walk-out, but thankfully fresh supplies were commissioned, along with a delectable lunchtime spread of goodies to keep us all going. Thanks Trish!

We ran out of time to fit the rafters, but will be back to finish off tomorrow – probably too late for the biscuits though…..

Back to the Stiperstones today to finish fitting the rafters. Bit soggy

Common rafters and rooflight openings

Ok, I admit I was trying to get your attention…..but there is some truth in this headline grabbing blog title. Read on:

You might think the ancient and civilised craft of timber framing is performed in a hushed and reverential silence broken only by the subtle squeak of a hand plane, or the reassuring purr of a handsaw across the compliant grain of subjugated timber……

Far from it.

The music gets cranked up to 11 to get us in the mood (it could be AC/DC, Beethoven’s 9th or the Sex Pistols) before we unleash a clamorous cacophony of machinery in the form of chainsaws, morticers, circular saws and drills. In amongst this infernal hullabaloo we find plenty of time to bash and smash things with various boshing instruments most of which are made from the rolled up hide of buffalos (dead ones of course). I’d like to know how the mallet designers arrived at the conclusion that buffalo is best? Personally I’ve always fancied a vegan potato skin mallet but still haven’t managed to source one on the dark web.

We hit and pummel chisels, offset prickers, bits of wood (to move them, or just out of frustration), podgers, and occasionally each other. If something doesn’t quite move as desired, or a chisel is too blunt, there is always a bigger mallet to use, and we like to name them accordingly – the Commander, the Peacemaker, the Persuader, Brian.

Here are some of them. Collective term for a pile of mallets anyone?

Way back in 2011 when the world was a very different place and I still had some of my own teeth, Bruce and Carole got in touch via letter – yes, pen and paper was an acceptable form of communication back then.

Carole had come across an article in Homebuilding and Renovating magazine in a B & B up in the Highlands of Scotland, and was taken by the story about how we had built our house and wanted to see if there was any way we could erect a timber frame for a future project of theirs in Aberdeenshire. At the time, the timber of choice was to be larch or douglas fir. We corresponded for a while and then Bruce and Carole popped in to see us on a trip down south and we were able to show them at first hand the kind of work we do.

Eventually, 7 years down the line on Tuesday of this week, we put their oak frame up (choice of timber had changed) in the heart of the Cairngorms national park, and so fulfilled Carole’s dream.

The journey through planning, not to mention the 450 miles up to Scotland, was a long one, but plans were finally approved and we designed and fabricated the simple single storey frame which was to create an extension to their vernacular stone longbarn – essentially an open plan kitchen, dining area as a counterpoint to the cosy stone crofters cottage that they had already restored.

As is sometimes the case with geographically distant projects, our first trip to site can be when we actually turn up with the frame. This is obviously fraught with all sorts of potential pratfalls regarding access, scaffolding, groundworks etc which could potentially scupper the raising. Turning up in Scotland and being unable to raise the structure would have made for a much shorter blog though!

As it was, we set off at the crack of dawn on Monday morning having loaded the lorry, only to receive a call from the crane company within the first hour of our journey to say that high winds were forecast in the Cairngorms the following day and that they were pulling out. B*!x$? Not only were we faced with not being able to put the frame up, but there was also the distinct possibility now that we wouldn’t even be able to get the oak off the lorry……

Thankfully, we no longer have to correspond with letters, so emails and phone calls were sent from the M6 motorway to Bruce up in Scotland. Within an hour he had organised for a telehandler and operator to be on site for the following day, and Sylvan and I could settle back into the monotony of our long road trip. Skip forward numerous service station stops and we veered off into the magical landscape of the Cairngorms national park, traversing heather and granite, mountain and moor.

Carole and Bruce hosted us on our weary arrival with a sumptuous meal and a warm welcome. The morning of the raising broke with clear skies and almost no wind! Maybe the crane company just didn’t fancy the job…..

Perfect conditions and the most breathtaking backdrop which took in Lochnagar, a mythical mountain rising to nearly 4000ft and part of the Balmoral estate, meant that the raising zipped along effortlessly.

By mid morning bait (or “fly” as they call it in Aberdeenshire) the jowled posts and wallplates were in place, by lunchtime we had assembled and installed the four trusses with curved collars, and by mid afternoon (tea and Battenburg cake, Balmoral style) we had dropped in the purlins, ridges and wind braces. All that remained was to peg everything together and fix down the purlins and ridge – 150mph winds were not unheard of up here so we didn’t want the roof blowing off.

What a truly amazing experience and thanks to Bruce for mucking in cheerfully with the raising and for Gary and his telehandler for providing expert lifting: calm and assured, just how we like it. Most of all, thanks to Carole for finding that magazine all those years ago and for sticking to her dream.

Presteigne, our local town, is home to a kooky and creative community of people, some of whom have got too much time on their hands.

So it was that one of them, who need not be named (Owen Rimington), decided that what Presteigne needed, to get itself noticed even more, was a shed building competition. Rumour has it that the rather too cleverly titled “Dawn of the Shed” was the chicken that preceded the egg…

Not being nearly busy enough with timber framing (our day job), we decided to support Owen and the Sheep Music backed event. After all, how difficult could it be to build a shed out of recycled materials over the course of a weekend? It might even be fun.

We gathered together as many materials as we could lay our hands on – waste bits of studding, unused and old weatherboarding etc and struck gold with some decaying and dilapidated window frames that our friends Tony and Christine were about to consign to the tip (if such a thing existed in Powys anymore). Now it was time to assemble a team of crack (heads?) guerrilla carpenters who would sweep our funky shed, with a combination of inventiveness, imagination, and distilled genius, to Presteigne immortality…..and the glory of the coveted Shedwrights crown to boot.

As it happens, thankfully, there were no elite, crackerjack carpenters available, so rather like the shed itself, the team was comprised of various recycled, discarded, misfits and vagrants who had nothing better to do, and were attracted by the prospect of free beer and food for a whole weekend.

Saturday arrived and we assembled on site at a leisurely 11am to find that the other competing teams were already busily cutting, hammering, nailing and erecting. Realization struck. We had a lot to do and better get on with it.

Our fag-packet design was shared with the team,

and we knuckled down, sorting the windows,

and building the studwork walls to receive the windows, and fit on the pre-prepared base.

All around us other sheds were taking shape and we were beginning to feel the pressure, and that we’d seriously misjudged something – either our abilities, time, or the quality of the opposition…

Finally at around lunchtime, we had the genesis of something that might one day resemble a shed and we raised three walls, to a distinct lack of fanfare I might add.

Spirits had been raised by this small sign of progress, and buoyed by some hearty supplies that were eaten on the hoof.

We beavered on into the afternoon, continuing with the studding and inserting the crumbling but stylish windows and door frames.

At least now our shed was “lockable” ( we even had a key) although we did have to lean the frame outwards to ensure that the doors could open.

Day one drew to a close, tools were downed and drinks and food were provided in the newly constructed bar.

Competition rules (such as any existed) suggested that no prefabrication was allowed, or the use of any glass. Well, we had ignored the frowned upon use of glass, so, in for a penny….we decided to pooh-pooh the prefabrication clause for good measure and make up the roof trusses back at home. My Saturday (evening) and Sunday morning were therefore not as relaxing as I would have liked, as I frantically endeavored to cobble together some fashionable and eye-catching roof trusses from curved oak offcuts. These were smuggled onto site on Sunday morning by which time everybody was too tired to notice, or too busy, or just didn’t care……I think we got away with it.

The trusses were lifted onto the wallplates, and now we really did have something that was starting to look like something!

For the rest of the afternoon, everything went beserk as boards were ripped, crosscut, and slapped willy nilly onto the outside of our rapidly evolving construction,

whilst around us the other teams seemed to be in a similar frenzied state.

Doug, Coral, Tom, Harold, Peter, Alithea, Dorothy, Jack, Richard and Malcolm put their collective shoulder to the wheel and somehow or other conspired to drag our shed towards a state of presentable completion. A 30 minute stay of grace generously bestowed by the junta of 3 impressively professional looking judges (suited and booted and complete with matching clipboards) gave us just enough time to literally throw on a few sheet of wriggly tin.

The bell tolled. Everyone collapsed in a sweaty heap. Thankfully it was all over.

Not quite in fact. Now we had to face the judges’ “interrogation” and discuss the so called “concept” of our shed.

We tried to impress them with suitably sounding words – “recycled….community…..sustainable….creative”,  but I could tell by the impassive and cold look in their eyes that they could see through my flannel. I might just have well have said “we made it up, didn’t we. Isn’t it obvious?”

Suffice to say we didn’t win. Lewers Firth and his brilliant team of nail gunners from Firth Construction pulled it out of the hat with their inspired hinged extravaganza, and their theatrical, musical unveiling, which clearly swung the deciding vote. Worthy winners.

For once, this really was about taking part.

Thanks to everyone involved for a memorable weekend, and don’t forget to come down to the Sheep Music workshop event this weekend which will be using the sheds as venues.

Sculpture project for Studio Morison

We are timber framers. We generally work in a warm and dry workshop with a more or less flat floor, more or less square and straight timber, interpreting more or less decipherable frame drawings that have been prepared in autocad by a more or less qualified frame designer, building more or less recognizable traditional buildings with walls and a roof.

We are definitely not sculptors. Oh no.

So, imagine our surprise when Ivan and Heather Morison of Studio Morison contacted us to see if we were interested in building a large roundwood sculpture that they had designed and which had been commissioned for a new amenity space near Cambridge.

How large? What? Where? Why?

Our curiosity got the better of us and we made the mistake of taking a trip to the Morison workshop in nearby Weobley to meet Ivan and Heather to talk things through. We looked at their plasticine scale model, inspected the debarked chestnut logs coiled and stacked expectantly outside, scratched our heads and ended up feeling excited by the whole idea.The bait had been set, and before we knew it, we had shaken hands and agreed to fabricate the “Bronze House” – it even had a name…

How?

This was of course the key question that now started to occupy our minds. Night and day. Thinking about constructing a 9m tall structure out of seriously wonky roundwood ended up being quite stressful but with the help of Greg Cohen, the responsible structural engineer, we came up with what felt like a suitable theoretical jointing method. Now we just had to put it into practice.

It worked!

With the 4 tripods now jointed on the ground, it was time to think about erecting them in the yard so we could continue working on the connecting timbers. We booked a crane, 2 telehandlers and a cherrypicker and prayed for a calm clear day, not always a given at the beginning of November…. We got lucky, and were able to successfully assemble the tripods in the air, taking care to brace the feet with 6″ x 2″ timbers to avoid stressing the joints. The tripods were then lifted independently and repositioned relative to each other. I’ve got no idea what the neighbours thought we might have been up to….. With the fundamentals of the structure in place, we could now focus on jointing the upper connecting pieces in place. Everything so far had taken place with the security of the earth beneath our feet, but now we had to step even further outside of our comfort zone with scribing and jointing happening 30 ft up in the air. Painstaking and dangerous work for sure, but slowly, piece by piece the sculpture took shape and 2 weeks ago, we were able to show off our work with an open viewing attended by over 80 interested and inquisitive spectators.

UPDATE – May 2017

The Bronze House – raised!

Last week we went to Cambridge to raise the sculpture which we built for Heather and Ivan Morison. The chestnut timbers had been scorched by the Morisons with a giant blow torch, then tarred and finally rubbed down by hand with a wire brush. The large-scale public sculpture was raised on Hobson’s Square, Trumpington in Cambridge. It sits at the centre of the square referencing the Bronze Age archeology found on the site.