It is not everyday that someone builds a seven-storey brick tower on the edge of one of the busiest and most rapidly-growing towns in Britain, especially in the middle of the eighteenth century, so one would assume that the construction of this folly would have been noticed. Birmingham was home to one of the earliest provincial newspapers – surely the curious structure made the pages? But no, the early history of the tower seems very hard to find. The building was originally referred to as the observatory, or as Perrott’s Monument, but soon became ‘vulgarly’ known as Perrott’s Folly because it was born of an ‘insane vanity’.

John Perrott (c.1704-1776) owned the Bell Hall estate at Belbroughton in Worcestershire, and also had a house in Edgbaston, then a village near Birmingham. Near his Edgbaston home, in rural Rotton Park, he built his tower.

The first history of Birmingham was written by William Hutton and published in 1781. Hutton mentions the ‘observatory’ in passing, but makes no mention of its builder or history. William Pye made an ‘excursion round the town in the summer of 1818’ and saw the ‘observatory’. He recorded that the ‘lofty’ tower was known as the Monument and had been erected by John Perrot [sic] in ‘around 1758’: all later accounts of the tower seem to be based on this account. It was certainly extant by February 1773 when a classified advertisement in Aris’s Birmingham Gazette notes a property near ‘Mr Perrott’s Observatory’. No records have yet been found to identify the architect and craftsmen who created the tower.

Although we now think of an observatory as a building from which to regard the night skies, in this period it was synonymous with belvedere, literally somewhere from which to observe the view. The upper room is beautifully decorated with ornate plasterwork, suggesting a space where one enjoyed refined refreshments whilst admiring the surrounding countryside.

It seems likely that the tower was also used to view the chase, for the surrounding countryside was used by the hunt. More fanciful are the tales that Perrott built it to give his wife a view of her childhood home in Belbroughton in Worcestershire. Or, that it was erected so Perrott could see his wife’s grave, or the home of the daughter who had married against his wishes, both also in Belbroughton. Great as these stories are, they are pure local legend: as a plaque in Holy Trinity church in Belbroughton makes clear, Perrott’s wife outlived him for many years. But more importantly, the Clent Hills block any view of Belbroughton. His son-in-law was the beneficiary of his will, so it seems unlikely that Perrott disapproved of him. But a catalogue of tall tales is particularly appropriate for this towering folly.

In the middle of the nineteenth century the ‘lofty picturesque building known as The Monument’ was offered for sale. By that date it stood in the grounds of Monument House, a ‘commodious and gentlemanly residence’, but no further information about the tower was given in the sales particulars.

In 1907 the Birmingham Mail pondered the reasons for the erection of the tower and concluded that it was for ‘convivial gatherings’. By that date the views the folly had once enjoyed had been compromised by the growth of Birmingham, now a large city. The paper commented on the contrast between the ‘crisp clear country air on one side and the thick smoky acid-laden cloud which hangs like a pall over the city on the other side’. The paper also questioned the mental stability of folly builders, concluding that the tower was ‘erected to gratify an ill-balanced mind’.

The smog was clearly not an issue for meteorological types and from the late nineteenth century until 1979 the tower was used as an observatory to record weather conditions. Emergency repairs to save the tower from collapse were carried out by Birmingham Conservation Trust, with work completed in 2005.

The tower has since had a number of uses, including as an art gallery and a party venue. Today it is home to Re.Future Collective, an arts and architecture collective formed in 2012 to ‘deliver arts, health and heritage activities to connect communities and to help address disadvantage’. Current projects include an Art Youth Club, workshops for adults experiencing loneliness or isolation and working with asylum seekers to create a mosaic for Perrott’s Folly. The collective is also actively researching the history of the tower, and paint samples are currently being analysed to see what they reveal – these are vibrant and exciting times for the folly.

It is not possible to discuss the tower (grade II*) without mentioning J.R.R. Tolkien. The author grew up in Birmingham, and fans of the Lord of the Rings trilogy believe that the folly, and the tower of the nearby waterworks, inspired The Two Towers, the second volume in the series.

Perrott’s Folly and the waterworks tower are easy to find – head to the helpfully named Waterworks Road, just off  Monument Road.

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Tucked away in a garden on the edge of Wolverhampton is a pretty little summerhouse which was once part of a much bigger structure: the folly started life as the dining room window of a country house built during the short reign of William IV.

Tettenhall Wood House was built between 1833 and 1836 for Theodosia Hinckes (1792-1874), who had only recently inherited the estate. She promptly augmented her land holdings, pulled down the existing house, and set about constructing a new home. Her chosen architect was Thomas Rickman (1776-1841) who was conveniently based in Birmingham. Rickman was an expert on Gothic architecture and as Sir Howard Colvin noted ‘could reproduce its characteristic mouldings and enrichments accurately’. Rickman sent Miss Hinckes his estimate of costs in January 1833, noting in his diary that he feared the figures ‘might frighten her’. She can’t have been too concerned for, after a few tweaks, work went ahead to construct the very attractive gothic mansion.

The house remained a private home until the middle of the 20th century, but by then land was in demand for housing. Modern estates were already encroaching on Tettenhall Wood House when in 1969 it was emptied and readied for demolition. The fabric of the building was divided into lots for sale by auction, and one person with a keen interest was Keith Cattell, an architect who was renovating a nearby barn as his family home. Cattell hoped to acquire some of the fine medieval stained glass that had once been a feature of the house, although much had been lost after a bomb was detonated nearby in the Second World War.

Cattell got the glass he wanted, but he also went home with the hall’s dining room window. The original buyer realised he had understimated the difficulty of removing the stonework, and was happy to sell it on. Cattell, a huge fan of Rickman’s work, could not bear to see the window, with its fine tracery (reminiscent of Rickman’s Bridge of Sighs in Cambridge), turned into hardcore, as was the fate of much of the fabric. Having bought the window for £30 he numbered the stones, dismantled the window, and then with the help of a plank and an old mattress rolled the masonry out of the building. Cattell’s builder then helped out and moved the stones the short distance to Cattell’s garden, where they were re-erected as a charming garden feature.

Cattell has used the original wooden window frames to create the back of the summerhouse, filling the gaps with timber cut to fit. With the addition of a flat roof, a granite sett and tile floor, and a simple seat, the building has become a peaceful retreat which is known to the family as ‘Keith’s Folly’.

The mattress that Cattell put to such good use must have disappeared by the time Hew Kennedy arrived at Tettenhall shortly after the auction. Instead, he used bales of straw to cushion the fall as he crowbarred sections of the battlements onto a trailer. Kennedy, of Acton Round in Shropshire, then went back to rescue sections of a fountain which he had failed to secure on his first visit. The latter now form part of a structure at Acton Round known as the obelisk, and other fragments were used in garden buildings designed by Kennedy, including a delightful summerhouse. And bits of Tettenhall also made it to the other side of the world: Kennedy was instrumental in sending smaller windows to Australia and Tasmania.

Tarmac Homes was quick to develop the site of Tettenhall Wood House, and by April 1970 prospective purchasers were being invited to view ‘the most modern, and most practical new homes in Britain’. Thanks to Keith Cattall and Hew Kennedy there are at least some tangible reminders of the house that once stood there.

Thanks to Keith for getting in touch to tell me the history of his folly. Thanks also to Alan Terrill for sharing his memories of his visit to Acton Round when Hew Kennedy told him of his expeditions to rescue fragments of Tettenhall Woodhouse.

You can read Keith’s full account of the history of Tettenhall Woodhouse here http://www.historywebsite.co.uk/articles/twhouse/contents.htm#contents

Keith’s Folly stands in a private garden. Acton Round opens occasionally for special interest groups https://www.historichouses.org/house/acton-round-hall/visit/

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