Why I’m Removing the Cement Render on My 1930s House (After a £20k Quote I Can’t Afford)

Fixing My Failing Render: Why I’m Re-Rendering My 1930s House the Traditional Way

This is the very first blog post in what’s going to be a long, dusty, slightly terrifying renovation series — taking the cement render off my 1930s house and eventually re-rendering it properly in lime.

When I bought my 1930s house, I knew the render wasn’t perfect — but I didn’t realise just how bad things were until I started looking closely. I had huge bubbles, deep cracks, whole sections falling off, and patches where the render felt completely hollow. The more I investigated, the more obvious it became that the house had a serious damp problem lurking behind that surface.

What I discovered is something a lot of owners of older solid-wall homes eventually learn the hard way: cement render and 1930s brickwork do not get along.

The Problem: Cement Render on a Solid Brick House

The render on my house turned out to be a hard, modern cement render. At some point it had cracked, letting rainwater creep behind it — but because cement is not breathable, the moisture had nowhere to go. It became trapped between the render and the original soft brickwork.

Inside the house, I was dealing with:

• 80%+ humidity
• blown and crumbling internal plaster
• salts pushing through the walls
• and, memorably… a slug and its trails behind the kitchen cabinets (absolutely grim)

Because my house has solid brick walls with no cavity, it relies on moisture being able to move through the wall and evaporate naturally. Wrapping it in cement is basically the same as putting it inside a plastic bag: everything gets damp and stays damp.

And of course, the render was only part of it. As I dug deeper, I found other culprits contributing to the moisture load:

• blocked air vents
• a bridged DPC
• poor drainage around the house

Damp is rarely caused by one thing alone — it’s usually a multi-pronged problem needing a multi-pronged fix. But I knew the render had to be addressed first.

The Builders, the £20K Quote… and the Advice That Didn’t Sit Right

I got several quotes for a full re-render. When I specifically asked about lime, every builder steered me away from it and pushed silicone render instead. All the quotes landed around £20,000 once scaffolding, materials, and labour were included.

Two things bothered me:

1. They were strongly discouraging lime, despite this being a solid-wall house.
2. I absolutely did not have £20k lying around.

So I started researching lime. And that’s when I realised lime is… a rabbit hole.

The Lime Minefield

I’ve now been reading, watching, asking, and trying to understand lime for about six months. In that time I’ve learned one thing:

Everyone has a different opinion and they’re all VERY confident about it.

NHL, lime putty, fat lime, hot lime, slaking, curing times, coats, backing coats, finishing coats… everyone claims their way is the “right way”, and half of them contradict each other. It’s overwhelming.

But I also learned something else:
Lime is the correct material for my house.
And if I ever want this wall to behave properly and stay dry, the cement has to come off.

Doing the Job Myself: Chiselling Off the Render

While I was still trying to digest all the lime information, I decided I might as well start with the only part I did understand:
removing the old cement render.

I headed to Screwfix, bought the cheapest Titan SDS drill they sell, grabbed some chisels, and got stuck in.

It was slow. Painfully slow. Removing 30–40mm of rock-hard cement from old brickwork is not a quick job. I asked Instagram for help and everyone said, “Get a bigger SDS.” So I did — and it was a complete game-changer. Brutal on the arms, but effective.

My only caution: you can’t just smash away wildly. Soft bricks (which 1930s houses often have) can be damaged incredibly easily.

What I Found Under the Render

Taking off cement render on an old house is a bit like doing an archaeological dig. Every day you uncover something new.

Here’s what I found:

• Soft, crumbly bricks where the cement was too strong for the original masonry
• The original black ash mortar, very brittle but historically correct
• Large areas where the render had detached completely, likely after freeze–thaw cycles
• Insects living happily behind the render (not ideal!)
• An old kitchen window that had been bricked up decades ago
• Some spectacularly bad brickwork repairs from previous owners

It confirmed everything I suspected: the render was trapping moisture, damaging the bricks, and hiding a long list of issues.

The Physical Challenge

I completely underestimated how physically punishing this job would be.

After long sessions, my hands were wrecked. People had warned me about vibration injuries like white finger and trigger finger, and I’ll admit I dismissed it — “builders do this every day, how bad can it be?”

Well, I currently have one finger that clicks and locks, and after a month it still hasn’t fully recovered. So yes, vibration damage is real, and if you’re tackling a job like this, take it seriously.

The cleanup is another level of pain. Cement doesn’t fall off in big chunks — it comes off in thousands of tiny chips that you have to shovel, bag, and drag away. After an exhausting day, that is truly demoralising.

PPE: Lessons Learned Quickly

I started with just glasses. Big mistake.

Cement chips regularly got wedged under my eyelid. My eyes were constantly red and irritated.

I eventually bought a full-face mask, and honestly it was life-changing. I now suit up with:

• full-face shield
• noise-cancelling AirPods
• ear defenders
• gloves

Once that mask goes on, I’m in my own little protected bubble. My neighbours probably don’t love it, but I do.

Where I Am Now,

I’ve stripped everything I can reach on the gable end wall without scaffolding. Scaff was quoted at around £2,000 for three months, but at my current pace (one day a week around my real job) I don’t think I could get it all done in that window.

Plus, I’d ideally like to strip the wall, let it dry for six months, and THEN render — which means paying for scaffolding twice, unless I’m willing to leave it up forever.

So the plan is:

1. Remove everything I can reach
2. Build a small platform
3. Save up more money
4. Tackle the rest when I can afford scaffolding

Meanwhile I’m learning more about traditional methods, breathable materials, lime repointing, and tools for rake-out (I’m testing some — article coming soon).

Final Thought

This project has already been a huge learning curve — physically, technically, and mentally. But I’m committed to doing it properly and restoring the house using the materials it was originally meant to breathe with.

If you’ve got advice, experiences with lime, or know companies or people who specialise in traditional solid-wall restoration, I’d genuinely love to hear from you.

This is going to be a long journey… but it’s one I’m excited to share.

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