Gone, gone, gone

The optimistic start date for the big contract I wrote about in the previous entry has come and gone, but we've not been idle at the little French house. Autumn has been stripping-out season. There's nothing left as you knew it. Currently very Little House of Horrors, the hanging wires and pipes adding to the gloom.

The wall between living room and bedroom was taken down.

Though tempted to leave it one narrow open-plan bowling alley, the wall is going back in, but it will be moved by 60 cm to accomodate eventual cupboards in the bedroom.

Every false ceiling in the house is history. The ground floor rooms will have sloped ceilings. The long beams will remain exposed. This photo shows how much height has been gained. It's given a small house a much airier feeling.

On the top floor of the tower, we'd always hoped to uncover an interesting beam structure; we weren't disappointed. The beams are pretty and mercifully healthy. I can't wait to see this ceiling with white plaster between the wood. Before, I could easily put my hand up and touch the ceiling we ripped down. Now there's a much greater sense of space and tall girls can throw their arms in the air!

The ground floor plan has been altered. I had a hallway to nowhere put in; we're hoping eventually to knock into the shed from here to create further living accomodation. Along the way, Freddie had to re-arrange the size of the bathroom, thereby attacking the only room that previously worked! Now the house is well and truly a shell.

We recently spent 5 and a half hours at Mr Kelly's office, finalizing plans for the big contract. Looking at his fat folder on LFH, his "before" photos actually made the house appear rather quaint when compared to the wreck it is now. This limbo state is a bit scary, but it's also incredibly exciting. Ideas get refined as you peer into the skeleton and discover what you've got to work with. We're itching for the permission to come through so we can get going!