I’ve said many times that within half a second of walking into the house, I knew it was the one for us. It was at the optimum level of disarray, with a roof looking like it would blow off any minute (which proved quite close to the truth), knackered walls, freezing cold and generally horrid. It showed its potential without having endangered bats flying around in it or pig troughs, like the previous place we’d set our hearts on.
The structural issues aside, there was one thing that I remember most about the first day we walked in – the stench. The whole place absolutely stank. I’m not talking a little whiff of wee like the cosy smell of a nursing home. I’m talking years of built up leaking pipes of excrement. Seriously, it ponged, and it all came from the glorious house bathroom leading to the downstairs loo, the channel of stink which likely was coming from all the other houses in the terrace.
It’s difficult to forget that smell, and every time I see photographs of the old bathroom, I’m taken back to it. It didn’t help that the old bathroom was a spectacular example of 70s brown suite experimentation. Everything was brown – the tiles, the suite, the poo.
So in case you’re eating your lunch (soz), here’s a sneaky peek through the door at the almost-finished bathroom. Sadly, smellovision didn’t take off in the way that was sold to us in the 90’s so I can’t share the before and after smells, but I can share the before and after pics!
It’s not quite finished and need a mirror which will conceal the shaver unit, shelves for beautifully folded towels, (I’ve learned the towel folding technique from Anthea Turner which has changed my life) and plants and things to make it look a little less stark.
Our tiler did a magnificent job with those metro tiles and dark grout, getting into all the awkward corners beautifully. And yes, the copper bath is ridiculous but we love it.