There's no way Santa is going to get down my chimney this Christmas. First he'd have to squeeze through one of the holes in the terracotta rain cowl, and then he'd find himself in a 150 mm diameter corrugated stainless steel flue liner. And if he managed to negotiate his way to the bottom of that then he'd have a fight on his hands with the baffle plates inside the wood-burning stove. Nope, it looks like book tokens again this year.
The idea of Santa Claus coming down the chimney is a curious one, which does not seem to be shared by too many of our European neighbours. Obviously, in the heyday of the coal fire, there were some pretty massive chimneys about; but the only ones with flues wide enough to accommodate human figures - even the little chimney sweep's boys of Dickensian tales - would have been industrial ones. Surviving examples of medieval houses have flues which, although they may start off wide at the bottom, taper inwards as they go up. Because it was known even then that narrowing a flue causes the smoke and gases to accelerate, and helps ensure a good draught.
I found all this very confusing when I was a child. We had a coal fire, and we used to send our letters to Santa by floating them up in the hot flue gases. But I could see that any deliveries in the return direction would have to be made by someone considerably slimmer than the guy with the white beard and red coat down at Woolworth's toy department. They tried to reassure me that it was one of Santa's little elfin helpers who actually made the final drop; but that didn't square with the sherry and mince pies they left out for him. No, I found the whole thing very worrying.
Chimneys worry me still, chiefly when I see them being abused in the course of "modernisation" of older properties. A common mistake is to block up an old fireplace opening without leaving a gap for ventilation. This means that the chimney stack, sticking out above the roof and exposed to all weathers, has no means of drying from the inside, and will just get wetter and wetter.
Potentially even more damaging is the common practice of removing the chimney breast in a downstairs room, to make space for cupboards or kitchen units. Chimney breasts in older properties contain a massive amount of brickwork, and often have a buttressing effect on the wall, or maybe even the whole house; removing a sizeable chunk of this may result in structural movement. Surveyors often comment on removed chimney breasts, and mention the need to check for adequate support to the brickwork above, although few of them have any idea how this should be provided.
But the most dangerous thing to do with a chimney is to vent a gas fire into it. Every year there are sad cases of people killed by carbon monoxide poisoning, often innocent victims sleeping upstairs from the source of the fumes, which can seep through brickwork and plaster. Old brick flues must be specially lined before gas-fired appliances are vented into them, and a wise second line of defence is an electronic carbon monoxide detector (a useful Christmas present for student offspring living in dodgy bed-sits).
All these potential hazards ... and to think I used to lie awake worrying that the fat bloke in the red coat might get stuck ...
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The Builders' White Boots: and other stories, by Jeff Howell, ISBN 0953455718, is available direct from Nosecone Publications, PO Box 24650, London E9 7XQ, UK, price 10 pounds sterling incl. p&p (Please e- mail for overseas postage rates or trade inquiries)
e-mail [email protected]
[Jeff Howell +44 20 8533 3046]
-- Jeff Howell