Stone Age man liked nothing better after a hard day’s hunting and gathering than to come home to a real fire. In those days, central heating meant building a fire in the middle of the hut and uncovering a hole in the conical roof to allow the smoke to escape.
The need for a chimney to channel these fumes didn’t arise until people began constructing two-storey houses, meaning that the fireplace had to be moved to the side of the building and a rudimentary flue installed.
Brick chimneys began appearing in England about 800 years ago, and by Georgian times were elaborately crafted features of the grandest houses. Their appearance was seen as an indication of wealth, and the hearth tax of 1662 to 1689 meant households had to cough up according to the number of chimneys on their roof.
To stop the whole house going up in smoke, chimneys had to be cleaned, and so was born the godforsaken trade of chimney sweeps. Their reputation as lucky charms was forged when a plucky sweep stopped George III’s frightened horse from bolting. Unable to find the man to thank him, the monarch declared that all chimney sweeps brought good luck, hence their occasional appearances at weddings.
In reality, a less fortunate occupation was hard to imagine. Children as young as seven were employed to climb inside stacks and scrape soot from the walls, sometimes suffocating, becoming trapped or falling to their death. The use of “climbing boys” was outlawed in the mid 19th century, but Father Christmas continues to flout the regulations on an annual basis.
The forests of monolithic mill chimneys that once punctured the skyline of northern industrial towns were mostly felled in the 1960s and 1970s as industry declined. But chimneys are still sprouting in some unlikely locations.
Deep in the mid-Atlantic, marine geologists have just discovered natural chimneys 180 feet high, formed as hot, mineral-rich liquid shoots through hydrothermal vents in the ocean floor, solidifying as it hits the freezing waters.
And the tallest chimney ever could soon materialise in the Australian desert, taking the power of convection to new heights. This kilometre-high tube will draw air heated in a huge solar chamber at its base through turbines to generate electricity. And, as its designers are happy to admit, they are talking a lot of hot air.
Harvey McGavin
