We're in

The topping out seems like a lifetime ago, the sardines grilling in the garden, the vinho verde chilling in a bucket, the roof a skeleton of timber silhouetted against a blue sky. Here we are now, in deepest darkest winter, at long last moving in.
The interior is still very much a building site despite several weekends of painting and decorating. Slowly but surely, familiar domestic objects emerge, awakened prematurely from their 15 month bubble wrap and cardboard cocooned hibernation.

First real meal, first night in the Maison Camy. The Architect, The Client and The Skater are now in residence. Amidst dust, boxes, pipes and sawdust, the garden table was laid out for soup and pasta. Despite The Architects worst fears the house immediately felt like home. The warmth of domestic bliss slowly pushed back the cold fear of disorder and chaos initiating a genuine genus loci.


However, the morning shower, in stark contrast, was a rather bracing shock - especially for The Client who doesn't benefit from any English blood. The boiler is still supplying sporadic bursts of hot water - or should that be sporadic bursts of cold water?

The works continue.