Suddenly Summer!

Well, it's certainly the case that nobody can complain about the bank holiday weather this time around, as we bask in blue skies and full sun, whilst enjoying the all ever-rewarding three-day weekend.  So far this weekend (for 'tis only Sunday evening) we've been quite predictable - a trip for lunch in Torquay, lots of quality time spent in the garden, and a long and rewarding walk in the countryside today.

It was actually one of the most enjoyable walks I've ever been on, as we left the front door and headed over the hill towards the Teign Estuary.  The footpaths and public right of ways here are quick to leave the suburbs, and we were soon strolling in delightfully Devonian lanes, high banks giving way every now-and-then to field gates, from which one leans to take in spectacular views.  The banks were thick with scented English bluebells, stitchwort and red campion, to the delight of all manner of butterflies - peacocks, orange tips, speckled woods the most abundant.  Even better, when we paused at one gate to admire the vista, we noticed a rustling going on at the foot of the gatepost, glancing just in time to see the back half of a grass snake disappear into the undergrowth.  No time for a photo, but certainly a great wildlife moment for me - it's the first wild snake I've ever actually seen.

The lane here eventually wends its way to the village of Netherton, which looks like a lovely place to live, contains many a thatched cottage, and is home to the Mare and Foal Sanctuary at their idyllically-named Honeysuckle Farm.  We soon found ourselves walking through fields of rescued horses and, true to form, Lizzie was soon saying hello to one friendly equine.

Netherton behind us, we eventually came across the estuary, and Coombe Cellars pub, which was in its element in the midday sun.  Sail boats drifted by, people were paddling away in canoes, whilst others looked on from the shore sipping their drinks and watching the world go by.  We found a spot in the shade, and as we listened to the waters lapping the shore, I had the distinct feeling that I was on holiday.  Could you possibly want to be in any other part of the world on such a day?  I couldn't imagine it.

Moving on again, our walk turned from the lovely countryside, and we followed the Teign estuary - still tidal at this point - back towards Newton Abbot.  The walk here follows the historic Templar Way, although they're being a bit liberal when they call it a footpath, for here were slippery rocks and big trees blocking our path.  Nonetheless, it's a very lovely aspect - looking across the water we watched trains come-and-go, whilst up the estuary was the very familiar shapes of Hay Tor and Saddle Tor, and the hills of eastern Dartmoor.  Eventually we reached the A380 road bridge, under which we passed before picking up the Aller Brook, which guided our way home.  A six mile, four-hour adventure that we would both do again in a heartbeat, and no better way to spend a sunny Sunday in our wonderful part of Devon.

Major's Garage

When I was young, I remember my grandma telling me about her own childhood, and how the appearance of a car in the neighbourhood was always a big event.  It seems alien to us now, with several cars per household and vehicles clogging up every artery of the road network, that there was ever such a time, when the roads were peaceful, and driving was an activity of pleasure and leisure.  I can only imagine Newton Abbot on a soporific 1920s morning - beach-goers waiting at the railway station for a locomotive to Torquay, children skipping in Courtney Park, the gentle pulse of the market town - shattered suddenly by the hum of an Austin 7.  And if that did happen in this corner of town, the chances are that the driver of this iconic vehicle would pull in for a refill at Major's Garage.

Cecil Major - my great-grandfather - developed a career which saw a lifelong relationship with motoring.  By the age of 18, he began working as a motor engineer and chauffeur in the employ of Sydney Williams, who owned a garage on Quay Road, Newton Abbot.  The mechanical knowledge he gained in this role led him into the First World War, where he served in the Royal Army Service Corps (ASC) in France, between 1915 and 1918.  The ASC were responsible for land, coastal and lake transport, the supply of food, water, fuel and domestic material, and the supply of technical and military equipment.

Cecil in his ASC uniform

Returning from the war, Cecil was able to establish his own garage in Oak Place, Newton Abbot, where he specialised in repairs and overhauls, and produced the beautiful business card seen below, in which Cecil highlighted his promise of the best possible service.  He was then approached by Mr Hendy, the landlord of a nearby property on Queen Street, and asked to start a new garage, a few doors up from the town's railway station.  Alterations were made to the property behind the house at 157 Queen Street to create Major's Garage, and Cecil arranged with local petrol companies to install the hand pumps and petrol tanks.  Major's Garage was also known around the town as Station Garage.  My grandma always said how hard Cecil worked, and how he put in long hours to ensure the business was a success.  

Business card from Cecil's first garage at Oak Place, Newton Abbot

Cecil worked his garage, and the family lived in the upstairs building, for 20 years, during which time the re-alignment of street numbers meant that the property was re-numbered 177-79 Queen Street.  The property was leased under "Queen Anne's Bounty," an historic scheme offering assistance to poorer living.  This came to an end in 1946, and due to his age - and the fact that his son Derek seemed unlikely to pursue a career in the same business - Cecil declined the opportunity to purchase the property.  When the lease ended, a Mr Cecil Jackson and a Mr Albert Carpenter paid Cecil for the goodwill of the business of Major's Garage, the electric petrol pumps, oil cabinets, electric battery charger, tools and equipment, and also paid his legal costs in connection with the sale.  The money was enough for the family to buy the house at 8 St Michael's Road in Decoy, Newton Abbot.

Cecil at the pumps with his son Derek - my grandfather - in the car.  c.1935

Major's Garage was marked on the OS maps of the time

Thus ended the family's connection with garage work and mechanics.  After Cecil had sold the business, it became Ted's Garage for many years, before being demolished.  The site is now home to flats and a sewing shop, betraying nothing of its automotive history.

Two years home

We're celebrating two years (two years!) since moving into our first house, and my my, how the time has flown.  Moving back to Newton Abbot has been good for us; we enjoy the town, the surrounding countryside, and the fact that the coast is four miles away.  I certainly feel part of a community here and the town, whilst small, is bustling, with a lively centre and several quality independents.  One which we use regularly is the Pizza Cafe - and what better to order in for our two-person party?

After a frantic first year, life has mellowed at Oak Tree Drive.  There's still much to achieve - the oven repairman visited recently and was aghast at how the gas pipe had been installed by the previous occupants; the carpets still need replacing; and our internal cupboard space still needs some attention - but at least it feels like home and, piece-by-piece we're getting there.  One thing that's certainly doing well is the fish tank - the plants have matured, and the fish have grown, all the while enjoying this peaceful little corner of the Amazon.  Obviously there's also the garden, the subject of many blogs, in which the biggest transformation of all can be see in the new borders and carefully-placed wildflowers, ferns and shrubs.  If last year was about learning and feeling our way around the plot, picking up rubbish and digging new ground, then this year has been all about the plants and the wildlife - and it has all been wonderful.

So that's it for year two in our ownership of the place - I wonder what things will look like in September 2017.

A 1920s holiday, the Devon way

Look what I discovered recently in a junk shop in Clifton Village!  Sitting in amongst a collection of vintage travel guides featuring locations nationwide, this little Ward, Lock & Co's guide to Torquay and South Devon leapt out at me.  Well I was more than tempted, and with change from a fiver, how could I say no?  Ward, Lock & Co were a London-based publishing company, which became famous for its "red guides" at the turn of the 20th century, and continued in business until 1964, when the company was split.  This guide was published in 1925, and for the particularly eagle-eyed amongst you; yes, that is the Torquay town coat of arms on the cover, bearing the town's motto Salus et Felicitas (Health and Happiness... obviously the motto-makers weren't Torquay United fans, ha!)

It's easy to get absorbed in the interesting local adverts, such as W.H.Gubb & Sons' popular motor trips into the heart of Devon from Ilfracombe; Ye Olde Whitpot Mill Tea Gardens (under new management) of Kingskerswell; and Torquay's Lincombe Hall Hotel ("charming situation, four acres of lovely grounds, the Acme of comfort and refinement...")  There then follows a list of hotels and boarding establishments, in which my eye particularly picks out Torquay's Osborne Hotel, the Redcliff in Paignton, and Newton Abbot's long-since-closed Globe.  The previous owner of this little book also pencilled an 'X' next to all the places they intended to visit during their holiday.  It certainly seems that this lady or gent got about, visiting many sites in Torquay (Torre Abbey, the Museum, Babbacombe, Kent's Cavern, Anstey's Cove, St Marychurch, Cockington, Compton, the church at Marldon, and Watcombe,) Newton Abbot, Ogwell, Torbryan, Paignton, Berry Pomeroy, Brixham, Totnes, Dartmouth, and a cruise up the Dart.  What a holiday!

So, what does the guide have to say about our towns, coast and countryside?  Some places have evidently changed beyond recognition, whilst the character of others appears to have remained intact, nearly a century on.  There's too much detail, of course, to transcribe the entire book here, so below are a few gems I've picked out, that speak of the interesting history and unique character of my neck of the woods:

"Since Kingsley and Blackmore gave to the world Westward Ho! and Lorna Doone, much has been heard of the grandeur of the North Devon coast scenery, but it was the beauty of South Devon - Torquay with its terraces, trees and sheltered nooks, Dawlish with its pretty Lawn, Teignmouth with its Den, Dartmouth and its land-locked harbour, Totnes with its ruined Norman castle, and the tortuous river Dart - that won for the county its fame as one of the playgrounds of England."

"Not merely because its cliffs are so lofty and picturesque, its sea so blue, its vegetation so rich, its site so well environed, its gardens to attractive, or its harbour so admirable, but because it enjoys all these features in so complete a combination, Torquay asserts with reason its claim to be the Queen of Devon."

"Few watering-places in England have made such strides in so short a time as Paignton.  Little more than thirty years ago a mere village, unknown to the world at large and associated by natives of the surrounding district with its sweet flatpole cabbage... Paignton has rapidly developed into a flourishing seaside resort... Nestling in a valley in the centre of Torbay, and surrounded on all sides by hills which afford a magnificent views of the sea and land, Paignton has every reason to look forward to a prosperous future."

"No one who stands on the quay and surveys the scene - the many fishing boats and trawlers, with their red-brown sails, in the inner and outer harbours and the fishermen and boys on the piers - can be in doubt as to the trade of Brixham.  It has been called the mother of the trawl fishery in England, and even the men of Grimsby and Lowestoft are said to have learnt their cunning from Brixham men who settled on the East Coast to be nearer the North Sea...  Special interest attaches to the Parish Church of Lower Brixham from the fact that its first incumbent was the Rev. Henry Francis Lyte, who wrote the beautiful hymn "Abide With Me," so popular with Christian communities in all parts of the world."

"Apart from its historical associations and its central situation, there is little to commend Newton Abbot to the visitor to Devonshire, who has all this fair county to choose from for his holiday, but since it has become nearly as good a centre for road as for railway traffic, bringing it into close touch with sea and moor, it is attracting an increasing number of holiday-makers... The town stands in a beautiful vale, watered by the river Lemon, which flows into the Teign a short distance below the spot where that river changes its character as a boisterous moorland stream for that of a placid estuary...  Newton is very proud of its War Memorial, which is unique in Devon."

"Totnes is one of the very few places in the kingdom where the curfew bell is still rung... The town is seated in the midst of the South Hams, a district not improperly called the "Garden of Devonshire," and is the centre of an important cider industry.  It was spoken by Camden as a "little town hanging from east to west on the side of a hill" - a description that still holds good."

"Buckfastleigh, where an ancient Abbey which has for forty years been occupied buy a community of Benedictines, who are rebuilding it gradually."

"Ashburton, beautifully situated in a very lovely country, with some of the most attractive portions of Dartmoor within comparatively easy reach.  The town stands on a small tributary of the Dart."

"Dartmouth is one of the most picturesque and interesting old towns in the country, and no one visiting South Devon should go away without seeing it... The old town retains many of the features of bygone centuries.  Narrow streets with overhanging houses, may not be beautiful in themselves, but they have a peculiar interest.  It is in its setting that the town is so attractive.  With the river in front and the hill towering behind, the effect is very fine."

"Kingsbridge is not a town of importance or of great beauty.  It owes its prosperity to its situation in the centre of the South Hams, where agriculture has always held up its head."

"Salcombe can, in summer, also be approached by steamer from Dartmouth, Torquay, Paington, Teignmouth, Exmouth, and Plymouth.  It is a delightful day trip down the rugged Devonshire coast, past the Start Lighthouse, at the extreme end of Start Bay... The sight of the beautiful harbour from the steamer is alone sufficient reward for the journey...  Salcombe is developing fast, and finds difficulty in accommodating the increasing number of visitors who throng it every season."

"The Dart is still referred to as "The English Rhine" but there is little resemblance, or the Dart would not be so beautiful as it is... It would be impossible to exaggerate the charms of the Devonshire river.  What other stream is so typically English, so intensely Devonian?  It sweeps along in leisurely fashion. Beyond all question, the way to extract the most pleasure out of the Dart is to drift along with the tide in the glow of a summer evening, when the sunlight slants across the stream, turning the reaches into golden lakes, and when the dense shadows of the gigantic oaks that bend over it contrast with the resplendent branches far above.  Under such conditions the voyager may well let the sweet influences of the scene intoxicate him, and make him content lazily to drift on down the shimmering stream between the banks."

The bridleway to Coffinswell

September is often a beautiful month, and here in South Devon, the season has offered us some of the year's best weather.  Cloudless blue skies, albeit with a little bite in the air, has prolonged the gardening season, and really encouraged us to get out and make the best of it, before the impending Autumn falls, and Winter's grip returns.  On a crisp and stunning Sunday morning, we left our front door and headed up into the Woods, destination Coffinswell, a little village a couple of miles away.

At the top of our little housing estate lies Ben Stedham's Wood, a sliver of woodland separating the estate from the back road to Torquay.  It's a lovely wild area and a little haven for wildlife - particularly, at this time of year, fungi.  I don't have much knowledge of mushrooms and toadstools, but their shapes and sizes fascinate me, and this year we have been especially blessed with sheer variety, noticing them both in our own garden, and elsewhere.

Ben Stedham's Wood

Fungi in the woods

The woodland gives way to a bridleway, from where the walker or rider can either head north towards the Teign Estuary, or south to Coffinswell.  Turning south, we pass hedgerows of ferns and young oaks, in which perfect spider webs have been weaved, shimmering in the sun.  Like fungus, I have noticed a proliferation in spiders this September, and webs straddle every space, crossing every path back in our garden.  

Perfect spider web

Lying just off the bridle path, a lesser-known archaeological site is a reminder of the area's ancient connections.  Milber Down Iron Age hillfort sits some 2,500 years old, once inhabited by people of the Dumnoni, the ancient British people who inhabited what is now Devon and Cornwall.  The hillfort itself is not easily distinguishable to the untrained eye, and could easily be overlooked as nothing more than a grazing site for sheep.  Aside from the gentle, overgrown ramparts, the site offers fabulous views over Newton Abbot, from which I spy many of my childhood haunts - Highweek church in the distance (we used to call the downs there the Mountains,) Decoy Lake, and even Seale-Hayne College, now part of the Dame Hannah Rogers Trust - all overshadowed by the omnipresent moors.  If ever one view could encapsulate the word home, then this is surely it for me.

Milber Down in Hutchinson's Diaries, 1853.  Source: Devon.gov.uk

Newton Abbot

Back on the bridleway, we seem to move through several landscapes at some pace.  Woodland gives way to a view of the South Devon link road, under-construction and a big talking point in the town.  Further along still, we overlook a quarry, before suddenly finding ourselves once again back in the middle of the countryside, with rolling green fields ushering us ever closer to the Coffinswell village.  I haven't been to Coffinswell for a number of years, and certainly don't remember it being so pretty.  Thatched cottages and lovely little gardens greet us, and we nose over the low walls with interest to see what the locals are growing.  My favourite garden, although I had not the nerve to so audaciously take a photo, took pride in two enormous purple echiums, no doubt bought from Plant World just up the road, where they are grown each summer (and I fully intend to get my own, next year.)

Beautiful cottage in Coffinswell

Another Coffinswell dwelling

The end point of our little walk is the Linny, the lovely village inn dating from the 14th century.  A very happy welcome within, a drink on an outside table, soaking up the sun and country atmosphere, a reminder to me that when the world is in this sort of mood, there really is nowhere else I'd ever wish to be.

The Linny, Coffinswell

A lovely front garden in Coffinswell

A year in TQ12

Unbelievable though it is, we're celebrating the first anniversary of the move into our own house.  We've certainly been on a journey in the last twelve months, making the house into our very own home, somewhere we want to spend our time, and a perfect place to relax and enjoy.  Since September 2014, we've installed a new bathroom and boiler, put a new door on the garage, had a new TV aerial installed, decorated all-but-one of our rooms, built several bookshelves, tables, cabinets and a sideboard, laid insulation down in the loft, and hung some 30 pictures on various walls.  In the garden, meanwhile, we're slowly transforming the space into a wildlife-friendly area for year-round enjoyment, and thoroughly relishing the challenge.  No more words from me today, but here's a few before-and-after shots that sum up what we've spent the majority of our time (and money!) on this year:

Snooping around the Old Forde House

In the market town of Newton Abbot, a stone's throw from the A380 and the Penn Inn roundabout, sits a grand old jewel of a house. Everybody in town knows of it, and each day thousands watch it pass by their car windows, probably with nonchalance.  Separated from the roadside by a generous green, upon which local dog walkers and ramblers will stroll gently under its shadow, with a stately air and granite-grey facade, lies arguably the town's most well-known landmark, our beloved Forde House.

Forde House's wood-paneled entrance hall 

Many years ago, as a little eight-year-old, I paid a visit here on a school trip examining the Tudors and Stuarts.  Today, for the first time in 22 years, I passed through its front door once again, Teignbridge District Council (owners and occupiers since 1978) having begun, last year, a series of summer open days.  The history of the house can be dated back to the 13th century, although in its present form, the house is around 400 years old, remodelled in 1610 into its familiar Jacobean appearance.  Built in the shape of an E, as were several manor houses of the age, it is said to have been a tribute to Queen Elizabeth I, although Her Majesty died in 1603, seven years before the completion of the building.

The parlour

To me, this is the most historically important building in town (apologies St Leonard's clock tower, Bradley Manor, and our lovely railways station,) for in terms of a building keeping beat to the pulse of history, this house saw it all.  Perhaps most famously, King Charles I stayed here in 1625, en route to Plymouth to review the fleet, before it set off for the Cadiz Expedition, and returned some days later, staying a further two nights. In 1643, having captured Exeter from the forces of Parliament during the Civil War, a band of the King's cavaliers stayed here before travelling on to take the port of Dartmouth.  Three short years later, it was Parliament who were put up at the house, when Oliver Cromwell and Colonel Fairfax, more heavyweight names of English history, were hosted on their way to retake Exeter, and march towards eventual success in that bloody conflict.  

Engraving by J Henshall, around 1835 after a painting by R Brown (source: Wikipedia)

Fast forward 45 years and, now in the hands of the Courtenay family of Powderham Castle (see also: Courtenay Park in the town,) Forde House again played host to royalty.  After a brilliant landing at Brixham, William, Prince of Orange, stopped by at the onset of the Glorious Revolution.  William of Orange would march on to London for his coronation, but his first declaration on English soil was made at the foot of St Leonard's tower in the town.  Today, a plaque there reads:

"The first declaration of William, Prince of Orange, the glorious defender of the Protestant Religion and the liberties of England, was read on this pedestal by the Rev John Reynall, Rector of this parish, on November 5th 1688."

Thus began one of Britain's most important events, one that eventually led to the Bill of Rights, a cornerstone of British democracy.  Forde House played a role in this story.

Lizzie at the Old Forde House

We were treated to a very well-informed tour courtesy of a local historian with terrific knowledge and passion for his subject, reeling off the life history of the building and its historical context, without even the briefest of glances at his notes.  It certainly shed new light on a house that I pass nearly every day, and one that I hold now in higher regard still.  Forde House, like so many familiar, forgotten gems across the country, is a witness to the amazing story of English history.  You won't find it in many history books, save for a footnote or perhaps a mention in an index, but I really believe that places like this are where our history was made, ideas formed, and inspiration gained by the icons of our past.  This makes them invaluable, and is exactly why I jumped at the chance to explore it once again.  A far more detailed potted history of the house can be found on the Teignbridge District Council webpages, and is worth a read.

The beautiful renewal of life

I love Easter.  I love the sun shining brightly in the sky, the sweet scent of spring in the air, the birdsong curling through the trees all day long.  To me, Easter is the beginning of the good season; winter is a long-gone memory, our hemisphere is warming up, and life begins, once again, on its beautiful, perfect cycle.  For me, this means hitting the garden, which is especially exciting this year because it's the first spring in our new home.  The garden, it's fair to say, needs some work doing.  Neglected by the previous owners, it resembles, in places, a bit of a rubbish-site-come-rubble-dump.  But look a little deeper, and there's wild potential in this little corner of Newton Abbot.  The bees are dancing merrily around the heather, every upturn of stone reveals centipede and woodlouse, and our grounds, we now know, are home to frogs, toads, and slow worms.  Here are the signs of life, from an array of creatures that have survived the passing winter darkness, and hint at the delights that are to follow.  I didn't get any of the aforementioned creatures on camera, but I did get a quick snap at one of three peacock butterflies, arguably our most beautiful insect, as it settled to bask on a sun-kissed stone.

There is much hard work upon us and we will eventually turn the garden around into somewhere special, but we're both agreed that we'll be doing it with wildlife at the forefront of our minds.  About half way up the garden (for our garden is on a slope) is an old paved level, which I presume was once home to a greenhouse.  One immediate project is to turn this area into a hotbed of vegetables, for which I'll be using a variety of pots, troughs, and containers of all shapes and sizes.  This morning I sowed three old favourites - Swiss chard, perpetual spinach, and good old salad bowl lettuce - and there's more to follow; our lounge windowsill is currently home to a variety of seedlings, including kale, cucumbers, courgettes, lemon balm and oregano.  Talking of these latter two, herbs are going to play a big role in this year's garden, for as well as the appeal these hold for bees, I'll be using thyme, chives and rosemary to create something of a Mediterranean flavour to this corner of the plot.  Lizzie, meanwhile, has had her hands full planting up a large pot, reclaimed from the ramshackle potting shed, as well as scattering some wildflower seeds in the bare patches of the slope.  

Part of the joy of the long weekend at home, is getting the chance to see family.  Lizzie's parents, on a whistle-stop trip from Surrey, stayed with us last night, and this afternoon we dropped over to see Grandma, and then Mum and Terry.  Sharing some time with the ones you love, catching up on life and listening to each other's recent stories is perhaps the most special way to spend a Sunday like this.  Back home, and with the chicken finally defrosted, we settled down for a hearty Easter roast.  I conquered my first roast dinner at Christmas, and am now honing my skills with every passing foray into beef, gammon, or turkey.  We always pick the highest welfare meat we can afford, and were graced today with a good sized, free range chicken that was tender, succulent, full of flavour, and perfectly accompanied by roast potatoes, vegetables and lashings of gravy, all washed down with the first post-Lent beer.  Cheers!

Lent, of course, commemorates the period of forty days, in which Jesus retreated into the wilderness and was tempted by the devil.  At the end of this time, on what became known as Palm Sunday, Jesus entered Jerusalem, ushering in Holy Week - the week that would see him arrested and crucified.  On Easter Sunday, Christians around the world celebrate Jesus' resurrection, and the symbol of hope that it represents.  To me, it's a story that is difficult to forget at this important time of year, for all around us is nature's own renewal of life, and a display of its hopes for the coming seasons.  It exists in each daffodil springing anew, in every bumblebee emerging from the ground, nature's balanced cycle on yet-another trip, upon which we are all passengers.  It's beautiful, it's perfect, and it's a reminder that home really is the only place I'd ever want to be on this miraculous, spiritual, weekend.

The Resurrection portrayed at a Lutheran Church, South Carolina (source: Wikipedia)

Back to TQ12

Ten months have passed since this happy blog post about moving into our new flat.  Ten months of fun, ten months of frustration, and ten months of hard work that confirmed what we knew all along – that our wonderfully-located city-centre flat, with its faded Georgian opulence, was our temporary stop-gap to getting on the property ladder. 

Fast forward from that late November weekend, and Lizzie and I have just become homeowners.  For me, it’s a move back to the old home town of Newton Abbot, whilst for Lizzie it’s a foray one step deeper into the Westcountry, where the accents are slightly more pronounced, and the pace of life is just that little bit slower.  We’ve made a balanced decision, the cost (financially and mentally) of the daily commute weighted up against an otherwise higher quality of life that we think we’ll enjoy in our new home. 

Dodgy bedroom

Dodgy kitchen

So, what have we got?  An ageing bathroom (complete with defunct shower), a tired boiler and some questionable electrics, none of which is ideal, but all of which will soon be sorted as we take our first steps towards making this house our home.  And if you can look beyond the imperfections, there are certainly worse places to live – the lounge-diner is spacious, the bedrooms are a good size (and there’s three of them!), there’s a garage (although the door has just fallen off its hinges) and, of course, an exceptionally interesting garden.  A lick of paint here, a touch of work there (or was that a complete refurb here, some major rewiring there?) and we’re going to see this house completely turned around into a place we’re thoroughly going to enjoy.  For both of us, this is a really exciting prospect.

Dodgy lounge

Dodgy garden

So, from here on in all blogs will be coming directly from our new home.  I hope you’ll all stay tuned for room-by-room updates!

Our new home!