Faversham Life
Faversham Life
Words Justin Photographs Justin
An Air Ministry manhole cover
Two years ago I took a photo of this manhole cover in Court Street. It amused and intrigued me in equal measure. What was the Air Ministry doing in Faversham? A few steps from Shepherd Neame’s front door? A secret wartime collaboration or an early publicity stunt for Spitfire ale? I was curious enough to consult the brewery and I’m pleased to say my enquiry went straight to the top — but no-one could say why it was there. The most likely explanation is that this was simply a prudent piece of postwar recycling, reusing a serviceable cover, perhaps from a defunct airfield.
Anyway, I decided ‘Air Ministry’ would make a great name for an aspiring heavy metal band (the manhole cover providing a ready-made logo, album cover and T-shirt design) and then forgot all about it.
Last week, as I made a morning perambulation towards Abbey Street it popped into my head again and I looked for it. I couldn’t find it. Was I going mad? Quite probably, but the fact is, my manhole cover had vanished, nowhere to be seen. I still had my photo to prove it hadn’t been a figment of my imagination and I was just a little outraged. It seems to have been a victim of the recent repairs to the Court Street cobbles, taken away and replaced with a dull modern alternative. I wonder who else has noticed?
a hardworking Faversham manhole cover in morning sun
I’ve always had a sneaking interest in these things and feel that metal pavement furniture deserves more respect. While I’ll concede that a manhole cover is hardly the Magna Carta, I do think they’re a worthy topic of study. Together, they tell the story of urban modernisation through the introduction of running water, drainage, gas, electricity and telephone cables in the 19th and 20th centuries. Every one covers an underground chamber and is a link is the network of pipes and tunnels running under our feet that keep our homes and businesses running. Faversham has some great examples worth preserving, and the unknown fate of ‘my’ Air Ministry cover shows they can’t be taken for granted.
Thomas Crapper in Court Street – the holy grail of manhole covers?
Many covers are Victorian and Edwardian, and I’m always on the lookout for early examples. We have a couple of splendid Thomas Crappers, for example, one in Court Street and another by the back entrance of Baptist Church. Crapper was one of Victorian London’s most famous sanitary engineers, forever associated (if incorrectly) with the invention of the flushing toilet and with speculation over the legacy of his name in slang. He supplied U-bends for Buckingham Palace and plumbing for Westminster Abbey, so it’s fitting to also have his work here in the royal town of Faversham. Do we need to slap preservation orders on them?
Animal print? A Broads manhole cover in the Faversham wilds
Others are more prosaic, and I’ve come to appreciate their design and lettering, with different patterns to create a non-slip surface and modernist sans-serif typography, simplified for casting. Like many utilitarian articles, we tend not to appreciate the careful thought that goes into their design.
A pleasing circular Thomas Seager cover from the Brents foundry
Some are precious relics of local history. Someone with a little time on their hands could helpfully record all the examples of ironwork by the foundry of Thomas Seager which supplied the Victorian and Edwardian town council and local shipbuilders with ironwork from his foundries in the Brents and the Oare Road.
A Thomas Seager drainage gulley
Look carefully and you’ll find several different Seager designs for manholes and drainage gullies. Seager died in 1919, but his foundry continued for many years. Another local founder was Owen Doran, and I’ve also seen at least one cover by E Fuller & Sons of Faversham. Again, it would be worth recording them all.
Urban poetry. A Thomas Dudley Dauntless Ductile.
The term ‘manhole cover’ isn’t always helpful, and these days we might wish for something less gendered. ‘Inspection hatch’ might be good alternative, especially where the covers are too small to get a man (or any other human) through them.
Gas. Gas.
That way we can include the many small hand and arm sized panels for gas and water, many of which have their own charms.
A circular Victorian coal hole cover
We could also include the smaller, circular coal hole plates of the Victorian era, which come in a myriad of designs. These covered coal holes and chutes led from street level to house cellars, allowing the coal to be tipped in and the cellar securely sealed.
Victorian coal plate with glass. Court Street.
They’re not very common in Faversham, perhaps because much of our terraced housing is Edwardian rather than high-Victorian, but there are some scattered examples in Court Street, Middle Row and (the best I’ve seen) on the North side of Stone Street.
Though almost literally a niche interest, ‘Coal plate’ spotting is not unknown as a pastime. Jeremy Corbyn and Telegraph columnist, Christopher Howse are well-known enthusiasts, and there’s a whole online subculture devoted to then. I’ve discovered that there is a certain cachet in considering coal plates rather than mere drains or manhole covers. Coal plate experts prefer not to get too involved with the latter.
My brush with the vanishing Air Ministry cover has led me down an unexpected manhole. As some consolation for its loss, I’ve discovered there’s actually another one in Abbey Street, not far from the Phoenix. I couldn’t bear to think of it going. Losing one might be considered a misfortune; to lose two would certainly look like carelessness. I’m keeping an eye on it.
Text: Justin Croft. Photographs: Justin Croft
