Experience: I’m the last traditional clog maker in England
#clog maker #traditional craftsmanship #sustainable living #Herefordshire #Offa’s Dyke #sycamore wood #hand‑carving #bespoke footwear #film industry #Suffragette #morris dancers #National Trails #apprenticeship #heritage preservation #rural Wales
📌 Key Takeaways
- Last traditional clog maker in England Cuts own sycamore trees near Offa’s Dyke Crafts each clog by hand in roughly 15 hours Has worked as a National Trails surveyor and writer Supplied clogs for film productions, including *Suffragette* Taught one apprentice who now works at a museum
- The craft began dying out in the 1950s but persists through his dedication
- His clientele includes men, women, morris dancers, and theatre companies
- He values sustainable living and views clog making as a therapeutic activity
- He has faced aging and physical strain but continues the craft
📖 Full Retelling
I’m the last traditional clog maker in England, working solo in my studio in Kington, Herefordshire, since the 1970s. I cut small sycamore trees along the Offa’s Dyke border, carve each wooden sole by hand for about 15 hours, and hand‑dye leather to create bespoke clogs that fit perfectly. I refuse to join the unsustainable, mass‑production trend, and I preserve an ancient craft that has disappeared across the UK.
Having grown up in Ceredigion, Wales, I apprenticed under clog maker Hywel Davies in the 1970s and turned to this work after struggling with anxiety and unemployment on government benefits. The craft provides a therapeutic outlet, and my shoes continue to serve men, women, and even morris dancers who find them comfortable for long hours. I’ve supplied clogs to film and theatre productions, most notably for Carey Mulligan in *Suffragette*, and to clients worldwide, including Tasmania. Though my income is modest, my focus remains on sustainable living and keeping the art of clog making alive.
I have performed other roles, such as a National Trails surveyor and writer of a booklet on clogs, and I have taught one apprentice, now working in a museum. Though I doubt how many years I have left, I keep carving because it is both a livelihood and a commitment to cultural preservation.
🏷️ Themes
Traditional craftsmanship vs industrialisation, Sustainable rural living, Therapeutic benefits of manual work, Heritage preservation, Aging artisans and legacy, Portrayal of a disappearing craft, Challenges of small‑scale bespoke manufacturing, Intersection of folklore and contemporary culture
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Original Source
Experience: I’m the last traditional clog maker in England I cut small trees around Offa’s Dyke, then shape the wood by hand I never wanted to be part of an unsustainable society. I’ve always tried to live as peaceful a life as I can, outside the big cities. Now I am the last person left in England making clogs by hand. I spend most days in my studio in Kington, Herefordshire, carving green sycamore wood that I collect myself, hand-dyeing the leather and making sure the soles are as near perfect a match to someone’s foot as possible. I don’t think you can have a more peaceful life than that. I grew up in Ceredigion, surrounded by sheep. There were no jobs in the area and in 1976 I had to go on benefits. I developed extreme anxiety after breaking up with my first girlfriend. Convent schooling and boys’ boarding schools weren’t the best places to learn to develop relationships and I needed to find something therapeutic to do. I met a craftsman in an adjoining village called Tregaron. He was a clog maker called Hywel Davies. I began training with him as an apprentice. I found the craft fascinating. Clog carving knives are dangerous, so the activity demanded my complete attention: it was the perfect therapeutic outlet. I also taught myself to make other kinds of shoes, but I’ve always stuck by clogs. I can’t say I had any natural aptitude for the craft, but it’s mostly sheer will that gets you through. British clogs are made of a combination of wood and leather, not to be mistaken for the more well-known European all-wooden footwear. Each pair takes about 15 hours to make. Women’s and children’s shoes are easier as they’re generally smaller, but men make up most of my customers. Some of their feet are so big, I can only compare them to yetis’. Once, when I was in my 20s, I managed to make almost two pairs in a day, but they weren’t very good. Now I’m in my 70s, it takes me a lot longer. Collecting the wood and shaping it by hand is also very tough on my back. I don’t kn...
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