This is a simple place but one that has a real charm to it. In essence it’s a small-scale water mill in the village of Hawarden near Chester on the border of Wales and England, it was fed from a large pond via a sluice on Broughton brook, and was used for grinding corn. With no running cost to anyone, no carbon emissions, and water was allowed to flow onwards after being harnessed. Almost sounds too sustainable, right?

History lesson time. By the time of the Norman Conquest aka 11th century, nearly every household would have ground corn for its own use. This all changed with the imposition of the Norman feudal custom called ‘milling soke’ whereby all grain grown on the lord’s estate had to be ground at the lord’s corn mill. Owning querns and hand mills was forbidden. As a result nearly every manor came to have its own water mill.

The house that the mill was to supply was brand spanking new at the time. Prior to the construction of the mill, the mansion was built just a decade before in 1752–57 to the designs of Samuel Turner, the elder, of Whitchurch. It replaced the 16th century Broadlane Hall. This is how it looked back in the day.

This is how it looks now. A private estate, so unfortunately no mooching to be done here but the fact that it still stands and in good condition is what matters. Who knows, I might be able to explore it before I'm wheelchair bound.

Unsurprisingly given its name and location, the mill used to grind corn for the village of Hawarden, Flintshire. Built in 1767 by Charles Howard, millwright, for the landowner, politician and lord of the manor, Sir John Glynne, the descendant of whom Catherine Glynne would marry William Ewart Gladstone, giving reason as to why the land is now known as the Gladstone Estate. There’s always a decent array of toffs involved when it comes to these places, most likely due to the fact that this would’ve been a local money-maker back in the days when you could just build a factory on your land and nobody could tell you otherwise. Especially if you’re already a politician.

This nervous yet stern looking chappy is the aforementioned Sir John Glynne. That look he's giving the poor artist clearly says "I own a big massive house, and now I even grind my own corn. So draw me".

So, back to the mill. Architectural details for dummys coming right up. It was an L-shaped structure at its greatest extent, possibly arrived at in three stages of development. The original building may have been a single, two-storey range built of well-course sandstone. A later wing on the south-east side is part brick, part rubblestone, and the three part-surviving gables suggest the later addition of a third storey over both parts, built of brick.

The covered and therefore brilliantly preserved overshot waterwheel, of composite construction, is in a separate, roofed wheel chamber at the south-west end of the original range, which may be the best-preserved part of the original building.

Whilst it's hard to picture the direction and layout of the process, this diagram indicates the design of similar corn mills at the time over in Yorkshire which ran to the same spec, and remarkably shows how Hawarden would have looked before the majority of it collapsed. All of the process started at the biggest piece of equipment, the water wheel, which began the movement of the linked instruments along the line.

The wheel was mounted on a round cast iron axle, and drove three pairs of stones carried on a cast-iron framed hursting of sophisticated design, the footstep bearings for the stone spindles being incorporated into the beams of the frame.