What Really Happened at the Barn Last Week and Why I Went so Quiet

In 28 years of renovating and restoring period homes I’ve dealt with almost every possible problem that could arise. As soon as you start taking a building to pieces and working with strangers you’re going to uncover unpleasant surprises, it comes with the territory. If you become a serial renovator like me, then you soon get used to it and take it in your stride.

Sometimes the issues are with trades, others it’s the fabric of the building. There was the time our main contractor seemed to lose his mind and then ran off with our money half way through the job, the home where my husband had a huge argument with the building inspector, who subsequently had a heart attack and died half an hour later buying a sandwich from Sainsbury’s, and let’s not forget the one where the entire roof was made of asbestos, or the house that had an underground watercourse not listed in the sales particulars. Oh, and of course, I have to mention the time the builder drilled through to the little girl next door’s bedroom and missed her head by inches. That was a fun one.

In so many ways our latest project at the barn has gone extremely well. We have an absolutely superb team of trades that we trust, all experts in their field, all know each other and get on well, and their finish is exceptional. We are very lucky. It’s been a happy place to be, and gradually seeing the craftsmanship unfold from the perfectly-angled roof trusses and gables to the beautiful reclaimed slate roof. Even the copper plumbing is neat as a pin, and really quite pretty.

Up until last week, all the issues this time have been with either the planning department or the building. We’ve had rotten beams, undulating wonky roof trusses, slates in two different sizes which are no longer made, floors supported by nothing, the dodgiest of electrics, and a conservation officer I would quite happily do away with. Have I missed anything?

In every case I’ve dealt with the problem head on, found a solution with the help of our trusty trades, particularly Steve and Jamie Horncastle, our carpenters. They have been a godsend. Pretty much, we’ve all carried on smiling, kept calm and got on with the job. But, then last week happened and I lost the plot, couldn’t write, and went very quiet. Here’s why…