Daisy Bridgewater made a few crucial mistakes along the way when renovating her Elizabethan house.
We have spent 14 years up close and, at times, uncomfortably personal with our builders. I often feel as if Radio Two and the hammer drill have been the soundtrack to our family life. Even our nearest and dearest appear to have grown tired of the whole thing. Visiting the other day, my sister wondered out-loud whether this was the first time we had ever not had a skip outside our house, and she had a point – the renovations of our home in Suffolk have been painfully slow. The original house was Elizabethan, alterations were made in the 18th century, then the Victorians put their own stamp on it and on and on it went through every new owner. As its latest custodians, we completed our own renovation in September, more than a decade after we moved in as a family of five with three growing boys. The irony of finally finishing what the Georgians started just as our youngest left for university is not lost on me.
It pains me to admit it but there is a good chance those 14 years may have gone smoother (maybe even faster) had I not made a couple of crucial mistakes. Here are some of the many things I got wrong in the process, and the lessons I learned the hard way.
1) The builders aren't there to look after the dog
They are not there to sign for parcels or to take the bins out on the day that you forgot. Similarly, don’t over-share with the plumber, even if the intimacy of discussing your soil pipe makes you feel like they already know too much. I don’t think I will ever recover from suggesting, freshly back from holiday, that we install a bidet, trying to explain their benefits to men in steel toe-caps as the colour crept up my face.
2) Don't let anyone else make decisions for you
Don’t pretend a project isn't going to take up too much headspace. You will need to dedicate real time to it, even if you have appointed an architect or interior designer. Research the aesthetic that you are after. Become an expert in floor finishes and bathroom fittings. Make a mood board. Have an opinion on grout colour. Accept that you may have to take calls at work about extraction ducts and surface heights. These are important decisions which, if left in the hands of your builders, may not go entirely your way.
In the hands of a particularly charming and persuasive builder, Daisy says a quick look at why there was water leaking in through an ancient attic window became an ad hoc roof repair and ceiling re-plaster
3) Interrogate the electrical plan
Riven with odd little icons and symbols, they are a headache to decipher, so get yours printed out on A3 and study it hard. Electricians can be prone to assumptions. I came home one day to find a knot of electrical cables jutting out of the wall above the fireplace, anticipating the gigantic wall-hung TV that we have never, or would ever, own. Meanwhile, the spare room bed’s headboard hides a pair of utterly useless dimmer switches, installed to be fiddled with from the comfort of a significantly smaller bed. These things were all on the plan, but I didn’t spot them when I opened it on my mobile, without my reading glasses. Interrogate everything down to the last switch. And don’t forget to schedule time to be on site with the electrician during the first electrical fix as this is when the height of sockets and switches will be set in stone.
4) Avoid mission creep
When builders arrive, with their tool belts and impressive power drills, do not succumb to the fantasy that you will also be able to get all those other little jobs done that are beyond you, your other half, and your badly equipped tool kit. This is where mission creep starts. In the hands of a particularly charming and persuasive builder, a quick look at why there was water leaking in through an ancient attic window became an ad hoc roof repair and ceiling re-plaster, with some MDF cupboards thrown in for good measure. In his skilled hands a quick project to sure up a lean-too barn become an ill-conceived brick-floored home gym (possibly the most impractical choice ever conceived) complete with too many electric radiators and a massive cobweb problem. With no agreed schedule or budget it took forever, and cost a fortune, but at least the dog still treats him like part of the family (see point 1).
5) Keep your eye on the ball
If you are using an architect make sure that you clarify where their brief begins and ends (particularly when it comes to lighting and bathroom design). If you have appointed yourself as lead designer make sure that you have chosen all bathroom fittings, tiles and light fittings before the job begins, and have clear sight on lead times. And if you are commissioning any joinery, don’t for a second think that you can leave choosing paint colours until the end of the job. Joiners will often want to spray units with their base coat alarmingly early in the programme.
6) Check your colour references
Unless you have an extraordinarily original way with colour, don’t kid yourself that you are going to create something unique with your creative use of the paint chart. I spent weeks agonising about the exact shade of acidic, slightly pond-ish green to cleverly counter-balance the deep green panelling in my bathroom, only to realise that I had recreated my own, private Waitrose. And just because Ben Pentreath has a way with golden, dun brown, doesn't mean you'll be able to get away with it. Phone a friend (or even better, a colour consultant) before daubing your own walls.
7) Don’t make too many cups of tea
I am all for being friendly – this building site is my home, after all – but there is a limit to the amount of tea anyone can make in a day whilst maintaining sanity (and keeping the best mugs hidden). Set the tone when the builders first set up site, ideally providing an electric kettle and jars of teabags and coffee. When we first moved to Suffolk, a team of builders had already moved in, installed by the vendors to fix the sole plate (part of the naïve deal we struck to get the house before school started.) Stuck with a tea culture instated by the previous occupants, I bought oat milk, artificial sweeteners and decaf, vowing that next time we had builders in I would keep the kitchen door firmly closed. I have tried hard to stick to this rule, except on Fridays, of course, when everyone still expects cake.
