Combermere Abbey’s Distinctive – And Beautifully Restored – Game Larder

October 28, 2015Other Abbey Buildingsabbey

During the Eighteenth century life in country houses became markedly more civilised, and many changes improving conditions of all kinds began to be seen in the way that the houses were ordered. One was the appearance of detached game larders, which moved freshly killed food, destined for the table, away from where the family and servants lived and worked.

Once it was killed and disembowelled, game was stored in the larder until it was required, obviously, but also so that it could mature. The meat in question ranged from deer to game birds of all kinds, and rabbits and hares. The game larders were purpose-built to exclude vermin, and to stay cool. Their floors were raised from the ground, and they were securely fitted with fine mesh or gauze over the windows, and with close-fitting doors. The game larders often had over-hanging eaves to give shade, and were positioned so that they were not in direct sunlight. They were usually fitted out with stone or slate floors, and all horizontal surfaces were stone or even marble to help retain the lowest possible temperature; meat was often prepared in the larder as well as stored there. They were carefully fitted out so that the game was raised well above floor level (this kept the meat safe from the house’s cats and dogs, as well as from vermin).

Game larders were usually single storey; octagonal ones, as at Combermere, were not rare. Rather more rare is the hexagonal larder at Farnborough Hall in Warwickshire, which is an early example, dating from around 1750. Both Abbotsford House in Selkirkshire and Holkham Hall in Norfolk have circular game larders – the one at Abbotsford is a sham castle, and the one at Holkham is lined in alabaster.

Larders were usually built of stone or brick, though a few were wooden (as at Audley End House in Essex). Most were functional in appearance, while others – such as at Uppark in Sussex – were quite decorative.

Combermere Abbey’s delightful gothic game larder after restoration

A smaller, and noticeably more plain hexagonal game larder at Farnborough Hall in Warwickshire

The curious octagonal game larder at Audley End House in Essex – made of wood (note the brick piers keeping it off the ground, to avoid rot and help keep out rodents).

The delightful, near-fantasy octagonal game larder at
a now-demolished house at Bromham in Wiltshire. Photo: © Mr David Witherow FRICS

The petite octagonal game larder at Haddo House in Aberdeenshire

Another smaller octagonal game larder; this time at Tottenham House in Wiltshire

Above and below; the very pretty and ornate game larder (with a half-octagonal end) at Uppark in Sussex. Surprisingly the floor of the larder is not raised from the surrounding ground level

Across the county from Combermere, at Dunham Massey is north east Cheshire, deer were slaughtered in the lower of the larder’s two storeys, and then hung to mature above

Combermere Abbey’s game larder is now, after restoration, a very handsome structure, some fifteen feet across internally. On each face it has large, pointed gothic windows, in the manner of the Abbey itself. It is accessed through a double-door porch on the east side. The lower roof has wide eaves, and above that there is a cupola or lantern – also octagonal – again with lights, and topped with a smaller, deeply-eaved roof (neither roof was ever fitted with gutters). It is built of local Cheshire brick with a slate roof.

We do not know the exact date of the building, but it is thought to date from the reign of King William IV. It is attributed to the Irish architects Sir Richard and William Vitruvius Morrison (father and son). We know that the then-owner of the Abbey, the first Viscount Combermere, commissioned a design for a complete re-modelling of the Abbey from the Morrisons in 1829. It was never undertaken, but they did design The Stone Lodge – which stands at what is now the main entrance to the Abbey – so it is entirely possible that the game larder was their work. Viscount Combermere had gothicised the Abbey a few years earlier, so the gothic design of the game larder was entirely appropriate – indeed, anything else would doubtless have been utterly unacceptable to the Morrisons client.

The larder is located at the western end of a long, relatively narrow cobbled courtyard, which sits to the south of the house, with a long range of brick-built service rooms on each side. The larder is protected from the westerly light by a wall just a few paces away. It is Grade II* listed in itself, independently of the Abbey (which is Grade I listed). Its description in the English Heritage listing is as follows:

“Game larder. Early C19. Probably by Morrison. Whitewashed stretcher bond brick with a slate roof with lead flashings and a timber lantern to the apex of the roof. Single storey. Octagonal body with rectangular porch to the eastern face. Eastern face: central porch with 4-centered doorway to the centre with a stone surround and a Tudor hood mould above. Stone plinth, common to whole building and cyma moulded cornice with lead roof. Above this and to either side are a series of 2-light cusped headed windows, that above the porch being of less depth. Similar windows to all the faces with diamond patterned lattices of iron rods. Deep eaves. The lantern openings take the form of rectangular lights with trefoil heads and cills.”

The Combermere game larder in a very sorry state before restoration

The wooden platform at the centre of the larder, from which larger game such as deer was hung on the higher hooks. The hooks on the rails around the platform itself were for rabbits, hares, and birds such as pigeon, pheasant and partridge

Above and below; the restored lantern or cupola, with its stretched quatrefoil windows and heavy-eaved roof

The restored timber platform inside the Combermere game larder, with the original iron rails and hooks on which smaller game was hung

The abbreviated gothic window over the door, seen from the inside

Original ironwork, treated against further decay during the restoration, and the now-repaired window cills

In their 1995 survey of the Abbey and its associated buildings, the architects Arrol and Snell of Shrewsbury, described the game larder as “one of the most handsome of its kind”. The larder was obviously structurally unchanged from its original design, which was splendid.

They noted that the larder’s brickwork was in fairly good condition in general, though in some areas it had suffered as a result of rain and frost. Of greater concern at that point were the two roofs. The original slates had been of “very high quality” but the flashings were now missing for the most part, and many slates had moved. This had allowed rainwater to enter the building, and the rafters, lathes, plasterwork and fittings inside had suffered badly as a result.

The window frames needed extensive repair, unsurprisingly, and the original zinc mesh over the openings had largely disappeared. The small porch on the eastern face was found to be in fairly good repair, as was the stone steps leading to the entrance, and the door frame.

Inside the larder a lot of plastering was missing, but it was thought that this could be fairly easily replaced – and with a lime plaster as originally used. The stone-flagged floor was good, and just a small number of the tiles which formed the dado below the windows needing replacement.

All the ironwork – the rails and hooks (with they described, a little pompously, with the Italian expression ‘ferramenta’) – was present and repairable.

The game larder was restored thanks to a very generous – and enormously welcome – grant from The Country Houses Foundation, which covered the complete cost of the work. When completed in 2007 it was used as a visitor centre.

In their newsletter of Autumn 2008, The Country Houses Foundation said:

“One building that stood out in particular [at Combermere Abbey] was the unusual and distinctive octagonal Game Larder. With large gothic windows and original hanging stands inside, it had fallen into serious disrepair, with the roof structure weakened through loss of tiles and rotten timbers.

“Its prominent position in the centre of the service courtyard made its restoration a high priority and the Country Houses Foundation provided for this with a grant of £50,000.

“Work began on the Game Larder in the autumn of 2007 and was completed on time and within budget by the end of November. The plan is for the building to be used as an interpretation room where visitors can learn more about the historical background to this important historic site.”

Above and below; the game larder before and after restoration, seen from the west in relation to the clock tower – also before that was restored (it has now found a very useful role as the Estate Office). The wall to the west of the game larder has been raised and topped with crenelation, and extended to the clock tower beyond the new gateway.

Religious paraphernalia and superstitious finds – Period Living

August 11, 2015Media, Period Livingabbey

This month’s article in Period Living magazine looks at some of the fascinating artefacts discovered during the restoration project as the layers of history were peeled back.

Papal Bull discovered at Combermere Abbey

The Craft Of Communication – via Parchment And Microsoft

July 24, 2015North Wingabbey

A lot of what we know about life in England between the Ninth century and the middle of the Sixteenth comes to us from the pens of monks (pens made of cane, reed, bird quill, or metal) as scratched on to – in the main – parchment. They were one of the very few groups in society who were completely literate; clerks in government and great houses were literate too, but otherwise literacy was almost unknown among the populace until very late in this period. It is possible that even the majority of English monarchs across these seven centuries were unable to read or write, or at least, had only the most basic abilities.

Most of what monks wrote was of course routine. They copied out scriptures and prayer books, psalters and gospels. All that was routine ‘data entry’ in modern parlance. They also compiled the monastic accounts and kept records of goods in and money out; rents received and any number of the other payments which maintained the monasteries’ wealth.

The personalities of the scribes appeared only rarely, in scribbled asides and notes – sometimes witty but usually complaining. One gospel includes the simple complaint, “I am very cold”, and another has the scribbled and very human plea, ““Now I’ve written the whole thing, for Christ’s sake, give me a drink”. The illuminators had more fun – they often left their human touches by adding multi-coloured doodles of their own invention, and – especially – drawing distinctive (and sometimes scatological) faces, figures, and fantastical animals to manuscripts and documents.

So far as personal thoughts and opinions are concerned, these can be found in topical contemporary annals. Most famous are the accounts of Danish raiders kept by Northumbrian monks, describing the terror of the seemingly-endless waves of invaders and their savagery and heathen plundering. The cowed monks were understandably bewildered by the raiders’ contempt for the religion they lived to revere, and their regard of holy treasures as only so much portable bullion. In a tiny note of mitigation it should be said that the natives were capable of equal acts of butchery, especially in revenge, as can be seen in the mass grave of decapitated Vikings recently discovered in Dorset, and the ethnic cleansing of Danes in England on Saint Brice’s Day 1002.

The Anglo Saxon chronicles are an anthology of monastic writings – partly historical, partly contemporary – which were written between 891 and the mid-Twelfth century. Most important is the fact that seven of the nine documents which make up the Chronicle were written in vernacular English rather than scholastic Latin.

The Chronicle’s accounts of day-to-day life are fascinating, and the writers’ opinions and thoughts are often very clear. They are not impartial journalists, not by a long way, and they very definitely only reflect their world as seen through their eyes. The Chronicles mix local news with national, and even, on occasion, international topics – but some concerns are timeless; high taxation, poor weather, and the lack of respect of younger people for their elders.

One area of great value is the monks’ records of the weather and the effect that had on agriculture – so important to both the country’s economy and the monasteries’ fortunes. In the years running up to the establishment of Combermere Abbey in 1133 we are told that there were terrible storms in 1103, 1105, 1109, and 1110, whereas the winter of 1111 was very long and many men and animals perished. The following years saw a good harvest but an outbreak in plague, and the year after that the water level in the River Thames was so low that Londoners could wade from side to side. Storms, poor harvest and famine continued throughout the first years of the century, and there were destructive earthquakes in 1119 and 1133. The whole of the Twelfth century seems to be the most miserable time to be alive in England.

Combermere did not have a reputation as a great seat of learning and erudition – it was a small Abbey in an undistinguished corner of the kingdom, known only as a bulwark against the Welsh – nor do we have any great documents written there. What we do have though is The Book of the Abbot of Combermere, which is a compendium of the Abbey’s business documents between 1289 and 1529.

These are leases and covenants between the Abbey and its tenants. The accounts cover assets owned over a large area of the north midlands and north west England, and includes precise details of the dealings with a huge number of people who had business dealings with the Abbey. In the main these were tenants and lease-holders, townspeople and countrymen alike – even widows holding their leases for a peppercorn rent in their penury. There are around two and a half thousands individuals listed and named, so it is not hard to see why an Abbey like Combermere needed literate and numerate clerks to keep comprehensive records.

In many cases we see the same surname repeated, with different members of that family doing business with the Abbey – at the same time or in different generations. Eight members of the Banaster family are noted, and there are six Bickerstaths, six Birches, nine Cokes, and ten members of the Hale family. The surnames in themselves are fascinating; Wasshynton, Wykedlegh, Stotfoldshagh, Twynteringe, Stablehervy, Quitstones, Mirewraa, Osmoundrelawe and Cappelanus. Many surnames have evolved, been simplified, and are still in use today – very many have disappeared from use completely. Even allowing for freefall medieval spelling, is anyone nowadays called Querndoun, Taldrestath or Warthebrek?

What we don’t have for the Abbey is the day-to-day accounts. After the Dissolution these would have held no interest or value and would probably have been destroyed either by those who seized the Abbey or those who acquired it. Similar accounts do exist for some monastic houses, and they are a fascinating insight into the monasteries everyday economy. Very full domestic accounts for Ely Abbey, Christ Church cathedral priory, Canterbury, and Bury Saint Edmunds still exist intact.

As almost all the monastic buildings at Combermere were demolished after the Dissolution, and what remained was stripped out and re-built, it is far more likely than not that no records survived. We have a similar dearth of documentation for the following centuries too. What there was between the Dissolution and 1919, during the ownership of the Cotton family, seems to have been lost at the later date when the estate was sold. We have a map but precious little else. There are external sources, of course, but even so there wasn’t a huge amount of information in total and there were some large and intriguing gaps.

This website was created over a twenty two month period between October 2013 and July 2015 to both record the restoration of the North Wing of the Abbey, and as a platform for the compiler’s research into key periods and events at Combermere over the centuries.

The restoration process has involved fascinating and highly-talented craftspeople, and talking about them is as important as describing their work. One recurring aspect is that the way that many of the crafts are undertaken in the Twenty-first century is very similar to how their Twelfth or Sixteenth century forbears would have gone about the same job, and with tools which – with the exception, obviously, of electric saws and hydraulic lifts – looked the same and would have felt similar in the hand. Our contemporary carpenters could have worked with a Tudor joiner’s chisels and hammers, and Thomas le Plumer in the Twelfth century would have been entirely happy with the modern lead worker’s tools. The only major difference would have been steel replacing iron.

There have been great similarities in the materials used as well. Granted, the new oak came from Normandy in northern France rather than from a couple of miles radius of the Abbey, but that is far from inappropriate – the conquering baron who founded the Abbey was of course a Norman, and Normandy and England – one a dukedom and one a kingdom, under a single overlord – formed part of the same state for hundreds of years.

So far as the history of the Abbey is concerned, many periods and stories stand out. This is the first time that the accounts of the waywardness of the abbots and monks have been brought together in a single narrative. Bankruptcy, theft, counterfeiting, violence – by them and against them – and more than one murder; surely no other monastery in England had such a charge sheet.

After the huge national upset of the Dissolution the Abbey saw the arrival of the nouveau riche Cotton family – self-made Tudor men. Their family was to hold Combermere for almost four hundred years, often precariously, it should be said. The men of the Cotton family were good at marrying wealthy wives but very bad at then managing that money, let alone hanging on to it. Those wives though, as we have seen, were very good at producing children – and both mothers and offspring survived, in contradiction of modern perceptions of historic mother and infant mortality.

This comfortable family – solid rural gentry through and through – joined the aristocracy thanks to the military exploits of the Cotton who became the first Viscount Combermere, and the visit of his commander and friend The Duke of Wellington was a high point of glory for the house. The full family tree of the family, by the by, from the mid-Thirteenth century and the birth of Hugh of Hodnet, father of the man who first took Coton as his surname, to the present day, has not to our knowledge been compiled before. It has been fascinating to marry those names to the crests and shields in The Library, put in place by the first Viscount.

We now know that there were armies on Combermere Abbey land on two occasions; firstly ahead of the Battle of Nantwich in 1643, during the English Civil War, and again in the late Seventeenth century when King William III stayed at the Abbey ahead of embarking for Ireland to fight what would become The Battle of the Boyne. Extensive research has taught us a huge amount about how the Civil War affected Combermere, just as it affected country houses in almost all parts of the country, and especially Cheshire.

Thanks to the discovery of an Eighteenth century map of the estate and the cleaning of the Tillemans panorama, we have been able to deduce a lot of new information about the house and its surroundings in the Eighteenth century, and these two, very striking, images – when taken together –have proved invaluable.

From there we go on the first Viscount’s glittering career and the Abbey’s heyday, but that was followed in the later years of the Nineteenth century and the first years of the Twentieth by gradual, genteel decline. There were highlights though in the form of the hugely wealthy individuals who were tenants at Combermere; the Empress of Austria, Sir Richard and Lady Constance Sutton, and the Dowager Duchess of Westminster. All of this was new information gained through extensive research.

These glittering guests were followed by sales of horses, attempts to sell the estate, and finally the huge disposal of fixtures and fittings at a three-day auction on the Abbey lawn.

Much more is known about the Crossley family, into whose hands Combermere Abbey passed in 1919 after the departure of the Cottons; the current owner of the estate, Sarah Callander Beckett, is the great granddaughter of Sir Kenneth Crossley, the gifted engineer and entrepreneur who bought it. Three generations of the family live on the estate nowadays, so much is known. What was required here was to add to the information in hand and take the story wider, looking constantly for new tit-bits to add more facts and humanity. Much more could yet be written about the story of the Crossley family and their tenure of Combermere.

There are no truly huge gaps in our knowledge of Combermere Abbey and its occupants since 1133, but detail in many areas would be most welcome. Why was the Abbey in such desperate financial trouble in the Middle Ages, and for so long? What sort of men were the Abbots who attacked the Archbishop of Canterbury (of all people!) and lead an assault on a sister abbey? How did the Cotton brothers, Richard and George, come from nowhere to gain influence and wealth at the court of Henry VIII? Where exactly was the young Robert Cotton during Parliamentary rule of England? What did the first Viscount and The Iron Duke talk about over the dining table at the Abbey? Were later Viscounts stupid with their money or did they think that generating income was beneath men of their rank? Was the beautiful Empress of Austria as generous with her favours while in Cheshire as the local ladies of quality claimed? And – a simple fact but one which cannot be found, no matter how hard I have tried – how much died Sir Kenneth pay for the estate in 1919.

Answers to some of these questions may turn up in the future, but certainly not to all. At least though we have gathered knowledge, presented it to the very best of our abilities, and greatly increased the understanding of this fascinating and (as the Empress herself said) romantic house.

Steven Myatt, His Boke (steven@stevenmyatt.com). July 2015

From Overseer To Project Manager

July 20, 2015Crafts and Tradesabbey

This illustration of the construction of a large medieval timber-framed building shows a mass of workers, but there is one figure of particular interest. He is placed right at the centre of the composition, and he is obviously better dressed than anyone else. He points up to the roof, issuing instructions to a labourer who is working there; there is no doubt about the fact that he is a figure of authority. He is in charge.

At every stage of the Abbey’s development there would have been an unsung hero – one who actually left no mark on the building, but without whom chaos would have reigned. He was the overseer; the man who had the plan of the building in his head, who knew at which point each craft and trade should be on site, who was doing what, and how much it should all be costing.

Nowadays, during the restoration of the North Wing, the overseer has the title of project manager, and he works with a laptop, spreadsheets and a cell phone. His name is Peter Beckett, and he is far from being a hired hand – Combermere Abbey is his home.

Peter’s office during the restoration is a cubby hole in a Portakabin to the north of the building. The walls are covered with plans and delivery notes, and his desk has disappeared under yet more paperwork. Perched on old office chairs and with tradesmen coming and going, I asked him about his role.

“It wasn’t my decision that I should be the project manager”, he said, “It was my wife, Sarah’s. We discussed it and as we were the main contractor it made sense that we had a constant presence on-site. We could keep an eye on what was happening, but most importantly we could make decisions as quickly as possible – so that suppliers, providers and trades weren’t ever held up”.

A fascinating early question was to which point in time the building would be restored. The Abbey has been added to and subtracted from many times over the centuries and its shape and outline plan has evolved considerably. There could have been an argument that the early-Nineteenth century gothicisation should have been stripped away completely, leaving the Tudor half-timbered structure – though so much else has changed that such a notion would never have been practical. “We thought about that for a nano-second”, Peter says, “It was clear though that the timber structure had been cut into and battered about so much during the gothicisation that it made it impossible – plus an extra floor had been created above the Tudor building.”

One replacement which was considered was the Wellington Wing to the north-east, built in something of a hurry for the visit of the first Viscount Combermere’s commander and friend, Lord Wellington in 1820. This would have added considerably to the Abbey’s ground area, and it would have stood parallel to the longer service wing on the south-west. This was soon discounted though on the grounds of cost.

One crucial aspect of the work is of course controlling the money. Every invoice which comes in is logged for approval, and at any point Peter can see immediately how the different sections of the project are looking so far as cost is concerned – and the overall total.

One early task was selecting the suppliers and tradesmen who would work on the restoration. The criteria, Peter says, were, “Reputation, previous experience with this type of work, a good reference – and tendering. The tendering process started with us putting together a specification and getting responses to that. There was no question of giving the work to the cheapest. What was needed was the best job and the best value for money. This is a building of great quality and the work had to be done up to the right standard.

It was useful, Peter added, to talk to as many people in the field as possible and learn from their experiences, good and bad. “We have ended up with the most fantastic team of people here. We came to a working agreement with Grosvenor Construction early on, and Will Mellor, the Director who is responsible for the firm’s work here at Combermere, lined up people to provide advice when we come to a sticky question and feel we are out of our depth.”

The very first port of call was the specialist heritage architects, Arrol Snell; we asked them who we thought we should appoint as the principle contractor (Combermere remains the ‘main contractor’ throughout), and we contacted a number of firms, and finally selected Grosvenor. At every step, no matter the size of the ‘parcels contract’, Peter has organised a ‘beauty parade’ and looked at a number of suppliers or contractors.

Scheduling is a very important factor; goods must arrive on a particular date (and indeed, often at a particular time) and the craftsmen need to be in place to receive those goods and begin to use them. It is not good practise to have too much in the way of building materials on site, and at the Abbey there is neither space nor dry storage for a mass of material anyway. These requirements change frequently, however; jobs take a longer or shorter time to complete, and other factors can come into play. The worst outcome is having workers sitting around waiting for a crucial delivery.

“The project manager’s job is to juggle”, Peter says, “You are juggling people, materials, and different suppliers. Most suppliers deliver on time, but others don’t – which you remember – and sometimes there is a consignment which is simply wrong.

“We can move people around in most cases if a delivery is late, but of course you can’t do everything all at once; some jobs have to be done before others.”

Interestingly, it tends not to be the larger contractors who occasionally let the side down, but the smaller ones – who perhaps have less in the way of resources, but who one would expect to be more conscientious because the work matters more to them. “The bigger they are, the more professional they tend to be, with professional systems in place. They also have greater resources so they can pull people off other, less time-sensitive work, to fulfil an order which is on deadline. On the other hand if a supplier tells us that there is a problem, or the possibility of a problem, and the timing isn’t crucial for us, we can drop that back in the schedule. There has to be some give and take.

“Recently we ordered some stainless steel mesh and it had to be delivered three times because there was, initially, a genuine misunderstanding, and that material was sent back, but the next delivery was galvanised steel – not stainless steel. The third time we got what we wanted, but the delay was frustrating.”

Looking at the North Wing and the ad hoc building site which is sitting temporarily around it, materials such as timber are in evidence – but there are other suppliers to bear in mind – more than one might think. A Tudor overseer didn’t have to factor in electricians or telephone contractors.

“Project management has the same modus operandi no what the project is. What matters is having foresight in terms of anticipating problems, having an overall plan and knowing what you want to achieve. You then break all that down into the constituent steps – and then make sure that you stay one or two steps ahead of your suppliers. You have to review progress on a regular basis, see where you are up to, decide what might need re-scheduling, and see where you stand according to the budget.

“No two projects are the same, but the experience you gain on any one transfers to subsequent projects. You do become more adept at dealing with situations and getting a good feel for all the different elements. The most important element in project management is flexibility. When a problem arises you can’t just freeze; you have to be able to work around it and re-deploy your assets. If it wasn’t something you had anticipated it may cost you more in terms of time or money. No matter how keenly you try to anticipate problems things will go wrong regardless. You can’t think of everything but you have to be able to cope with everything.

“As a Grade I listed building – and one which is on English Heritage’s ‘at risk’ register – we have had their support all the way through. We were sixteen years trying to set up the restoration, and over that time we have developed a very good relationship with their people. With the Combermere estate this is the sixth or seventh project which we have undertaken, so we have built up their trust and confidence in us. That level of respect means, I believe, that they have faith in us.

“Any areas of disagreement with English Heritage were resolved in the planning stages. Early on it was a question of getting their reactions to ideas which we had, discussing the issues, and coming to a decision. We are all looking for pragmatic decisions, using the right materials for the house for the long term – and being as faithful as possible in re-creating the look and feel of the building as it was.”

There is no question but that Peter is in his element in this role, and is enjoying himself; “It is very satisfying to see something being created out of a wreck, and as each week goes past I see visible progress. You could say that it’s like conducting an orchestra, and whether you are playing first violin or just the triangle, everything has to find its place and come in on time.

“It has also been terrific to see what this country can still produce in terms of craftsmanship and the materials we require. You do need to look for the craftsmen, and often if it says ‘restoration’ or ‘historic’ over the door it means they are expensive, but this country does have some very good people still.

“It’s going to be a good, solid building for another two hundred years at least. We are one of the blips in time so far as the history of this house is concerned, and as with every project which Sarah and I have undertaken on the estate over the last two decades, it is like putting pieces into a great big jigsaw puzzle. When each piece has been repaired or restored – or taken away, if that was appropriate – it has helped build the overall picture of a vibrant Combermere estate. This will be one of the big sections, put back in its rightful place.”