The Windmill

Great Bricet mill (shown above with Abner on the 'fly') was built by my Great Great Grandfather, Abner John CLARK (I'm not sure he built it alone - he probably had some help!) around 1857 on the site of a former post mill. Abner's father Charles was also a Miller and owned the windmill at Barking Tye until moving to Bricet. 

Great Bricet mill was damaged by an earth tremor (known locally as the Essex Earthquake) in 1884 and in 1912 the sails were removed. 

The mill eventually rotted away and was pulled down in 1960. Great Bricet mill was a smock mill which was a wooden mill on a brick base (a tower mill would have been built of brick right to the cap).

The following rhyme was written by my grandmother when she was at school about Great Bricet Mill. 

The Windmill

by Jean E M SAGE - 1929

Power of the wind, the Chinese found

Centuries past, would drive a mill round

Huge vanes to catch the blustery gales,

Twisted, slightly angled sails

Early ones built on stout post

Could turn, and face the wind to boost

Underneath, round house for miller

Centred by the massive pillar.

The first mills proved to be so good

Smock and Tower so lofty stood

Phantom movements of their sails

Helped around by nature's gales

Marvellous views from fly at their tops

The beauty of snow, or fair golden crops

In Norfolk and Suffolk a picturesque scene

Alas now, few only, preserved reign supreme

On tower a Cupola, moved round

Sideways wind to help rebound

Fantail, geared the sails round frame

To bring them into wind again.

Mill stones must be sharp and often dressed

Grinding corn fine as together were pressed

Crush the wheat, grind into flour

This must have been their finest hour.

Hoist, weigh the sacks, load on to cart

Horse bridled ready, impatient to start

Alas days of wind gone, set faster pace

Engines to grind, lorries replace

Water mills were fed by streams

Huge wheel, grind grist a farmer's dream

Through countryside one looks aghast

At Ancient relics, ghosts of past

Memories of a familiar one

I lived quite near, when I was young

As years rolled by, parts fell away

Left standing in forlorn decay

One night amid a fearsome gale

A tangled mass had left a trail

Though wind had made her finest hour,

The final force, was in its power

Rubble filled the old mill pond

From the structure, we were fond,

Though may it be, we still endeavor

To let the memory live forever