THE Coward family is bristling with pride. Sales of its 3,000-item brush range, manufactured in slumberous Mere, Wiltshire, under the Hillbrush name, have been so stratospheric as to turn this former back-yard business into Britain’s biggest in the sector. An empire built on brushes for sweeping, scrubbing, cooking and construction, the no-nonsense, hardworking objects that emanate from the Hillbrush stable turn up all over the world in the factories of global brands (Coca Cola and Heinz, to name but two), in royal households, parks, schools, supermarkets, restaurants and hospitals, on farms and in incalculable homes.
One such residence belongs to MD Charlie Coward, who shares the helm of Hillbrush with his cousin, Andy. ‘I live on a farm with my family. We have horses and, occasionally, I help with the stable chores with one of our yard brooms,’ says Mr Coward. ‘Among the brushes in our house is a dish brush and I’d never be without it. My wife, Kerstin, and I share domestic chores and that suits me, because we both like a clean and tidy space.’
Exactly a century ago, Mr Coward’s great-grandfather Fred and his great-uncle Bill started hand-crafting brushes as a spin-off from their father Arthur’s woodturning business. The First World War returnees—Fred brought home a Military Cross and Bar, whereas the discovery of Bill’s underage enlistment sparked his hasty retreat from France—raised £420 of capital, christened their fledgling firm Hillbrush, due to their modest workshop being sited in the shadow of Mere’s Castle Hill, and set about building up an agricultural customer base.
この記事は Country Life UK の February 16, 2022 版に掲載されています。
7 日間の Magzter GOLD 無料トライアルを開始して、何千もの厳選されたプレミアム ストーリー、9,000 以上の雑誌や新聞にアクセスしてください。
すでに購読者です ? サインイン
この記事は Country Life UK の February 16, 2022 版に掲載されています。
7 日間の Magzter GOLD 無料トライアルを開始して、何千もの厳選されたプレミアム ストーリー、9,000 以上の雑誌や新聞にアクセスしてください。
すでに購読者です? サインイン
Save our family farms
IT Tremains to be seen whether the Government will listen to the more than 20,000 farming people who thronged Whitehall in central London on November 19 to protest against changes to inheritance tax that could destroy countless family farms, but the impact of the good-hearted, sombre crowds was immediate and positive.
A very good dog
THE Spanish Pointer (1766–68) by Stubbs, a landmark painting in that it is the artist’s first depiction of a dog, has only been exhibited once in the 250 years since it was painted.
The great astral sneeze
Aurora Borealis, linked to celestial reindeer, firefoxes and assassinations, is one of Nature's most mesmerising, if fickle displays and has made headlines this year. Harry Pearson finds out why
'What a good boy am I'
We think of them as the stuff of childhood, but nursery rhymes such as Little Jack Horner tell tales of decidedly adult carryings-on, discovers Ian Morton
Forever a chorister
The music-and way of living-of the cabaret performer Kit Hesketh-Harvey was rooted in his upbringing as a cathedral chorister, as his sister, Sarah Sands, discovered after his death
Best of British
In this collection of short (5,000-6,000-word) pen portraits, writes the author, 'I wanted to present a number of \"Great British Commanders\" as individuals; not because I am a devotee of the \"great man, or woman, school of history\", but simply because the task is interesting.' It is, and so are Michael Clarke's choices.
Old habits die hard
Once an antique dealer, always an antique dealer, even well into retirement age, as a crop of interesting sales past and future proves
It takes the biscuit
Biscuit tins, with their whimsical shapes and delightful motifs, spark nostalgic memories of grandmother's sweet tea, but they are a remarkably recent invention. Matthew Dennison pays tribute to the ingenious Victorians who devised them
It's always darkest before the dawn
After witnessing a particularly lacklustre and insipid dawn on a leaden November day, John Lewis-Stempel takes solace in the fleeting appearance of a rare black fox and a kestrel in hot pursuit of a pipistrelle bat
Tarrying in the mulberry shade
On a visit to the Gainsborough Museum in Sudbury, Suffolk, in August, I lost my husband for half an hour and began to get nervous. Fortunately, an attendant had spotted him vanishing under the cloak of the old mulberry tree in the garden.