There was once a time when I thought ‘Shambles’ might be a good name for a house.  It is, after all, a lovely word: satisfyingly onomatopoeic, it needs no further explanation.  But, on reflection, much as I like the sound of it, actually living in it is not that appealing and I decided that as a name it might be better suited to an Old English Sheepdog.

It's a shambles.

It’s a shambles.

But right now, ‘Shambles’ would be the perfect name for our new property.

After our high hopes last Monday, the silence was deafening.  A phone call (made by our architect) on Tuesday, established that for no rhyme or reason, the reluctant Heritage Committee had arbitrarily deferred the promised meeting.  Now, we’re told, it is set to take place tomorrow.  We’re not holding our breath.

But today, being in the vicinity while waiting for Daisy to emerge from the parlour, we dropped in to check on progress and discovered that in the meantime, the contractor has demolished almost all the younger parts of the house.  Being a small stand, there is not a lot of space left that is not covered in rubble, roof trusses and window frames.  It’s difficult to move around but already, with the left-hand ‘modern’ wing removed, we’re able to get a much better impression of the length of the plot  and it is easier to imagine where the cottage and garages will be positioned.

The left wing has been demolished.

The left wing has been demolished.

In the extremely unlikely event that we’re refused permission to demolish

Looking back towards the street

Looking back towards the street

completely, it would be very difficult to restore any sort of order around the old footprint.  But I’m not even going to allow myself to think about that.  The picture below is a view of the some of the rooms that are over 60 years old.  For this we need the Heritage Association to meet.

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