Nine months.

Well. There are some things that take nine months that I swear would be less exhausting than what we’ve just been through. And which probably keep you awake at night less, in the long run.

On January 9th, with the snowflakes flurrying down around his t-shirt, Mark (the builder) dug his spade into the land next to our house. In the time since then, we’ve lived in a rented flat for four months, watched a digger being driven around the kitchen, made friends with the concrete mixer installed in the living room, watched a corner of the house demolished, lived at my parents’ house for month, slept on various floors, worked on a cardboard-box-desk, baked a hundred cakes, and driven the length and breadth of the country in pursuit of the right bits for our majestic new space.

A fulsome report will follow. But here are some details in the meantime. We’re exhausted, but we’re in, and it feels good. Watch this…new space.















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