Georgian farmhouse here and I love it. The high ceilings, thick walls, wonky floors, beautifully proportioned sash windows, original staircases, fireplaces, panelled doors, deep skirting boards, elaborate crown moulding, picture rails and all those wonderful period features that give a house its character. But the high ceilings mean it costs approximately the GDP of a small country to heat, the thick walls have absolutely no intention of retaining any of that heat, and the cobwebs are so extensive I’m considering charging the spiders rent.
There’s always something that needs repairing, and what starts as a simple ten-minute job turns into an archaeological excavation of 250 years of other people’s questionable DIY decisions. Every time you lift a floorboard or remove a bit of plaster, you uncover another bodge lovingly passed down through generations of men who clearly thought, “That’ll do.” Nothing is straight, nothing is standard, nothing is ever simple, and absolutely nothing costs what you think it will. But would I swap it for a warm, draught-free, low-maintenance modern house? Not a chance. Although I might reconsider this when the next heating bill arrives.