Thatcher: The thatcher who met Lords and Dukes but never wanted to be ‘by royal appointment’

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A photo in Bygones of a thatched cottage in Weston-on-Trent sparked memories for an important person in the building’s history – the man who put the roof on it. George Mellor (80), of Cromford, a master thatcher who has worked on buildings across the county, shares his memories.

Thatcher George Mellor of Cromford - Bygones feature - on a roof in Allestree

Thatcher George Mellor of Cromford - Bygones feature - this is him being presented with an award by Sir John Fitzherbert

Thatcher George Mellor of Cromford - Bygones feature this is him on the roof at Repton School

Thatcher George Mellor of Cromford - Bygones feature - cottages in Baslow that he thatched

Thatcher George Mellor of Cromford - Bygones feature - passport photo as young man

Thatcher George Mellor of Cromford - Bygones feature - his wife Margaret Mellor

Thatcher George Mellor of Cromford - Bygones feature - with a thatched playhouse he made

GEORGE Mellor was very familiar with the Weston-on-Trent cottage pictured in Bygones on August 22, for he renewed the thatched roof himself – and even stepped out for a while with the daughter of the house.

George, now 80, was 17 and working as a labourer with his brother Harry as a thatcher, following a family tradition – both his father, also Harry Mellor, and grandfather were in the trade too. George and Harry were two of nine children of Harry and May Mellor, of whom only George and two sisters are still alive.

George has now retired and lives in Cromford – in a house with a tiled roof (“they wouldn’t let me thatch it because it was out of keeping”), his home for 33 years.

It was in the early 1940s that George and Harry were working on the cottage, at a time when petrol was scarce due to rationing.

The lads had to travel from their home in Stretton to get to the job, so the rationing made it tricky.

He said: “We got about a gallon a week with the war on, so we would alternate two days’ cycling to Weston with one driving in our Hillman Minx. It would be considered a long way on a pushbike now, and luckily all the material for the thatching was close at hand, with the straw they used – a variety called square-headed master – growing in a field a few hundred yards up the road.

“I remember one time when we were driving, we were flagged down by two high-ranking US officers, I think they were colonels.

“They said they urgently needed to get to a conference in Nottingham, something to do with the invasion, which there was talk of already, even in 1942 or 1943. They asked if we could take them to Nottingham, which would be a good 10 miles away. But my brother said no, because the petrol could only be used for work.

“People could even be put in jail for misusing petrol. Even when they said it was for the war effort, Harry was adamant.

“So in the end they said they would give us £5 – well, wages being what they were then, Harry and I between us wouldn’t make £5 in a week, so that was quite an incentive and we eventually agreed.

“It took about an hour and a half so that wasn’t bad for a week’s wages.”

George said that one family that lived in the Weston-on-Trent house was called Bull, but there were two or three families living there when he was working on the thatch.

And he made good use of his time working there: “I finished up courting the daughter of the house for a while, Hilda Bull. It would be nice to hear from her if she is still alive. She would be about my age.

“I was a bit of a lothario in my youth, very fickle and impetuous.”

George, who later volunteered for the Grenadier Guards “with a girl on each arm” and then served with the Parachute regiment, finally settled down after he was demobbed in 1947.

He said: “I met a splendid young lady in Bakewell, and we were married two years later.”

His new wife, Margaret, was a teacher at Heage Primary School. The couple were married for more than 40 years until her death from cancer, 11 years ago, at the age of 67.

George said: “There were some funny moments for her as a teacher. One time she was talking to the class about the King and Queen, and asked them if any of them knew how to curtsey. One little lad said he could, so she called him up to the front of the class – and he burst forth with ‘hellfire, damn and blast’ – he thought she had asked if anyone knew how to curse!

“She loved being a teacher. I made a good foil for her as we were very different characters.”

When George was young a thatched cottage was far from carrying the luxury cachet it bears today. Then it was simply a cheap way of roofing a house, with suitable wheat straw being grown in every village, and a local craftsman on hand to make you a roof out of it.

As the years went by, thatching became more and more a specialised trade and George found himself called to repair roofs across Derbyshire and beyond. In fact it’s a case of “name a thatch and he will have done it”. When a thatched house in Allestree was mentioned, George at once recalled thatching it years ago and produced a picture of himself at work.

One place where George’s thatching skills were much in demand was the Chatsworth Estate, and once or twice he almost got into trouble for, as it was thought, removing a thatched roof.

He said: “One time a man came along in a big car and told me he was going to have to stop me working. One side of the house had the thatch removed, the other side still had the old roof on. He had had a phone call to tell him that we were taking the roof off and it was thought we were going to replace it with tiles. I soon explained what I was doing and cleared the matter up.

“The old Duke of Devonshire would often come by when we were working on his estate and ask if everything was all right. He was a very nice man.”

A thatched roof is in fact remarkably hardwearing and long-lasting.

If top-quality Norfolk reed is used, it can last up to 80 years. Long straw thatch will last up to 30 years. George joked: “Some fellow once told me I was a long straw thatcher because I am so tall and thin.”

Thatching a cottage would normally take about six weeks. George always used to work a letter M for Mellor into his roofs, usually on the left hand corner, a trademark rather like Grinling Gibbons’ mouse.

He said: “I remember one woman being most put out when I had left it out. And people often say to me that they have seen some of my thatching because they have spotted the M.”

Despite sometimes working in inclement weather, a long apprenticeship of several years of doing all the boring jobs, and the occupational hazard of cutting himself with the very sharp tools used, George would not have done anything else.

He said: “It was dangerous sometimes though. I remember one day at Allestree I cut through a vein, and as I was setting off to the doctor’s surgery, a woman came along and insisted I go to the DRI and have the wound stitched up. It was annoying because I wanted to go back to work the next day but I wasn’t allowed to.”

Another notable moment in his career came when he had been working on the Revolution House in Chesterfield, where William of Orange’s supporters plotted to put him on the throne in the 17th century.

Prince Charles was coming to visit and George got a call from Special Branch at his house at about quarter to eight in the morning.

He said: “I wasn’t even out of bed and they wanted to call round and see me. They wanted to know my mother’s name, where she was born, my father’s name, where he lived, and so on. What they were looking for, with the royal visit coming up, was any Irish connection.

“On the day of the visit, the houses across the road had all the curtains drawn.

“When I asked why, I was told that it was so that they could see if anyone was pointing a gun at the prince, because the gunman would have to twitch the curtain aside.”

George retired from his thatching career almost 10 years ago, a move partly forced by arthritis in his hands which has plagued him in recent years.

Otherwise, one suspects, he would gladly still be up a ladder, and certainly customers tried to get him to do work long after he gave it up.

He said: “We did a pub about 25 years ago, and the landlady rang me up a couple of years back to see if I could come and fix it. I said: ‘No, I can’t because I’m nearly 80’.

“You always have to wait ages for the thatcher to come, because the work can take so long.

“I remember someone coming round to see my mother and complaining about having to wait so long. The chap said he had written to me twice and was I illiterate? ‘No!’ said my mother, very annoyed. ‘He knows who his father is!’ – thinking the man had said illegitimate.”

One of the highlights of George’s long career came when he was called in to Radio Derby on a mysterious errand about 25 years ago. When he got there he was greeted by Sir John Fitzherbert, the late owner of the Tissington estate, for whom George had worked over the years.

With typical self-deprecating humour George joked: “I had no idea what they were going to do, whether they were going to hang me or cut my leg off.”

What they were actually doing was presenting him with an award “for courtesy and good workmanship”.

George has featured in the Evening Telegraph on more than one occasion, and after one story on “thatcher with the royal link” – he was working on the Queen’s estate at Sudbury – his customers started to joke that he would be too important to do work on their ordinary houses.

But George always remained very down to earth, however many of the great and good he mixed with.

He said: “There was a suggestion that I should get a royal warrant, but Margaret said: ‘You don’t want that, you would have to walk about nicely dressed and keep the motor clean.’ And she was right, of course.”

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