Four years ago we bought a Victorian house with a lovely garden.
The problem was, it was built in 1973. The garage was falling down, the concrete paving was wobbly and there was a rockery. We aren’t really rockery folk if you know what I mean? Here is the view from the back of the house back then. Rambling outbuildings, et al.
We set about systematically destroying this perfectly acceptable patch of land.
We built a large kitchen/family room extension with a deck terrace.
We knocked down the garage before it blew away, and built a patio.
We put in a path, erected a (large) shed, and my amazing husband constructed a bespoke pergola from a picture I’d seen in ‘I want that one’ style.
Fifteen tonnes of top soil were unceremoniously dumped on our driveway. Thank God for teenagers.
The vegetable & herb beds were constructed and filled. Trees were planted and gravel was liberally distributed.
The old garage wall (painting a work in progress!) has been turned into a courtyard garden. On the patio, a raised bed will be filled with bamboo. The teen has his long-awaited basketball hoop, and the piece de resistance (a wood-fired pizza oven) has its plinth ready for husband to build it.
Finally, this weekend, the turf was laid and cut to shape and a celebratory glass was filled. The sun did its thing for us.
I absolutely love this garden. Although there is still a great deal to do, we have worked SO hard and have finally made our mark on this little patch of England. All we need now is furniture, plants, and a summer fit for parties.
Cheers.
