Mitcheldean roofs, specifically
Why Mitcheldean roofs green up faster than the open ground around it.
Mitcheldean sits in a damp wooded combe on the northern edge of the Forest of Dean. The name itself gives the game away — it comes from the Old English miceldenu, "big valley" — and the village fills the head of the Longhope brook valley, hemmed in by rising ground on almost every side. The land climbs out of the centre onto Plump Hill, the Stenders and Breakheart Hill, lifting from around 125 metres in the village to roughly 200 metres on the tops, and a good deal of that high ground is wooded. It is a setting most people would call pretty. For a roof, it's a problem.
The reason is simple. Moss, lichen and gloeocapsa algae live on cold, damp and shade, and a wooded valley supplies all three in quantity. The surrounding canopy and the north-facing slopes keep many Mitcheldean roofs out of direct sun for much of the day, the valley floor holds moisture that open, higher ground sheds, and the trees that ring the village drop a steady fall of leaves into the gutters and roof valleys every autumn. That leaf litter rots down into a damp organic mulch that feeds the moss and blocks the drainage — so the roof stays wetter, longer, and the growth races ahead. A house here will carry noticeably heavier moss than an identical one a few miles out on open, drier, sunnier ground.
You see it most clearly in the old core. The conservation heart of the village — the long, narrow, slightly crooked run of the High Street up to the Cross, Brook Street curling round by the churchyard, and the lanes off Silver Street and New Street — is packed with low, old buildings standing close together in local red sandstone, with hand-made clay, natural slate and stone on the roofs. They shade each other, the streets are tight, and the original coverings hold damp far longer than anything modern. By the time someone calls us, a north-facing pitch above the High Street is usually a thick green-black mat sitting in the tile, with rust weeping off old valley metal and the gutters packed solid.
Out on the edges it's a different roof but the same valley behind it. Mitcheldean grew hard in the mid-twentieth century around its big employer — the factory that ran first as British Acoustic Films, then Rank Bush Murphy, then Rank Xerox — and that growth threw up bands of estate housing on concrete interlocking tile. Those tiles are textured, which gives spores something to grip, so in this humid combe they mat up heavily. Whether it's a 17th-century stone cottage by the church or a 1960s semi built for a Rank worker, the cause is the same Forest-of-Dean damp, and so is the fix: lift the growth off properly, then treat it so it stays off.
One thing worth saying plainly is that we don't blast old, ageing tile. On the heritage roofs in the core, high pressure cracks brittle clay and stone and drives water under the laps. On the estate roofs, the concrete tile is already decades old and its surface coating has thinned, so hammering it with pressure takes years off the tile to buy you a single clean season. Lifting the moss by hand and treating with biocide is gentler and lasts far longer — which matters on a roof that, valley damp or not, still has plenty of life left in it.