The best things about bringing a Victorian house back to life….

After writing about the worst things about living in a Victorian reno project last week, it only feels fair to give the house a chance to defend itself. 😁

Because yes, there is dust everywhere. Yes, every job turns into three other jobs. Yes, we have a plasterer on speed dial, and yes, I have had more conversations about door knobs, cladding lengths and paint finishes than I ever imagined possible. But underneath all of that, there is also a very big reason why we fell in love with this house in the first place.

Living in a Victorian reno project is chaotic, expensive and occasionally ridiculous, but it’s also full of little moments where you stop, look around and think, “oh yes, this is why we’re doing it.” It’s not always the big transformations either. Sometimes it’s the light coming through a window, a corner that suddenly feels cosy, or the feeling that you’re slowly becoming part of a house that has already had a whole life before you.

And I know that sounds cheesy but sometimes, getting to live this life in this house does make me feel a little bit emotional. 😍

It felt like home straight away

I know this sounds a bit dramatic, but I think I knew I wanted to live here within about a minute of walking through the door.

The house felt like home almost immediately, which was both lovely and slightly terrifying because I was so scared to look at my partner in case he didn’t feel the same way. I remember focusing very hard on the lovely lady showing us around because I didn’t want to give myself away too soon, but eventually I couldn’t help it and quietly whispered to him that I loved it.

I honestly can’t tell you how devastated I would have been in that moment if he hadn’t whispered back, “me too.” Thankfully, he did though and I’ll always be grateful that it wasn’t just me who felt that connection so strongly.

From that point on, it felt less like a sensible property decision and more like we’d somehow found the house we were meant to be in. I know houses are bricks and mortar, and I know that sounds overly sentimental, but some houses do just feel right. 

The character is impossible to recreate

There are so many things in this house that just wouldn’t exist in a newer home, or at least not in quite the same way. The high ceilings, the big rooms, the old doors, the fireplaces, the bay windows, the sash windows and all the little quirks that have clearly been added, changed, covered up or rediscovered over the years.

Some of it needs work. Some of it needs a lot of work. Some of it probably needs professional help and a deep breath before we even start. But there’s something lovely about living in a house that already has a personality.

It doesn’t feel like a blank box we’re trying to fill. It feels like a house with a story, and we’re just adding our chapter to it. (I’d love to take credit for that level of cheesiness but someone else said it to us and I loved the analogy.)

The house’s personality is the thing people notice when they come in too. Everyone comments on the features, the proportions, the old details and the fact that it feels like a proper house with a bit of history behind it. It’s lovely seeing other people notice the things we fell in love with, especially on the days when all I can see is dust, cracks and the next job on the list. And I love hearing people say that it’s big but feels like a cosy home despite the size of it’s rooms. 

Most people also tell us that Rome wasn’t built in a day, which is very kind and well-meaning and, as I said in last week’s post, also makes me want to gently walk into the sea. But I do know what they mean. The house has been here for a very long time, and we’re not going to get it exactly how we want it overnight.

It is completely unique

This house is not a bland house. It has personality before you even get through the front door, mainly because the window and door frames are painted a very bright yellow. Not a gentle buttercream. Not a soft heritage yellow. Full-on sherbet lemon yellow.

It is absolutely not a colour I would have chosen myself, but it is very much part of the house now. Because of that, we started calling it Sherbet House almost straight away, and the name just stuck.

Then, for Mother’s Day this year, just after we moved in, Miss Frugal bought us an actual sign naming it Sherbet House, which made it feel even more official. I’m still not entirely sure whether she bought it because she loved the name or because she knew exactly how much the yellow was testing me, but either way, I love it.

The original features are worth saving

We still have the original sash windows, which is one of the things I really love about the house. They are beautiful, even if they are definitely in need of a bit of a makeover. Like a lot of the original features here, they’re not perfect and polished, but they have so much character that I wouldn’t want to replace them with anything modern and soulless.

There’s something about old sash windows that just feels right in a Victorian house. They add so much charm from the inside and the outside, and even though restoring them is another job on the very long list, I’m glad they’re still here.

The same goes for the doors, fireplaces and all the little details that make the house feel like itself. They might need sanding, staining, restoring or generally throwing money and patience at them, but they’re part of the reason we loved the house in the first place.

A bit tired, a bit worn, but absolutely worth saving.

The garden already has a life of its own

One of the loveliest things about the house is that the garden is already established. I can’t pretend I know what all of the plants are, because I absolutely do not, but I love that things are already growing, coming back to life and surprising us.

It feels like the garden has been quietly doing its own thing for years, and now we get to slowly learn what’s there. There’s something really special about moving into a house and not starting completely from scratch outside. We don’t have a blank patch of grass and a few sad shrubs to work with. We have plants with history, corners that already feel settled and things popping up that we didn’t even know were there.

It’s a bit like the house itself really. Slightly mysterious, definitely in need of some attention, but full of charm.

Every little improvement feels huge

When a house needs this much doing to it, even the smallest improvement feels like a victory.

A corner tidied, a wall painted, a new light fitting, a second-hand piece of furniture that suddenly makes a room feel more finished, or a bit of clutter cleared from somewhere that had become a dumping ground. In a finished house, those things might just be normal weekend jobs, but in a renovation house, they feel like genuine progress.

You learn to appreciate the little wins because the big finished-room reveals are not exactly happening every five minutes. Sometimes the win is simply standing back and thinking, “that looks better than it did yesterday,” and honestly, I’ll take that.

It also makes you appreciate how much difference small changes can make. When you’re surrounded by jobs that feel too big, too expensive or too far down the list, it’s lovely to have those little moments where something suddenly feels a bit more like home.

You get to make the house properly ours

One of the nicest things about living in a house that needs work is that we’re not just moving into someone else’s version of finished. We get to decide how it should feel, how it should work and what matters to us.

For us, that doesn’t mean trying to make every room look like a perfect Victorian show home. I love the character of the house, but I also want it to work for real life. I want rooms we can use, furniture we’re not scared to touch and a home that feels like us rather than a museum.

That’s the nice bit. We get to keep the old-house charm, but slowly shape it around how we actually live.

Some of our decisions probably won’t be what someone else would choose, but that’s fine. The house has already had lots of different versions of itself over the years, and this one gets to be ours.

The rooms can take big ideas

One thing I do love about this house is that the rooms can cope with a bit of drama. Big curtains don’t look ridiculous. Large pieces of furniture don’t completely overwhelm the space. Darker colours, vintage finds, big mirrors and old wooden pieces all make sense here in a way they might not have done in a smaller or newer house.

It’s not always easy to get right, and I have definitely spent far too long overthinking colours and furniture choices, but I love that the house can take a bit of personality.

It doesn’t need everything to be tiny, pale and sensible. It can handle a bit of boldness, and I really love that.

That’s probably why second-hand finds feel so at home here too. There’s something about older furniture, vintage bits, charity shop treasures and Facebook Marketplace bargains that just works in an old house. They don’t feel like compromises. They feel like they have always been waiting for the right corner.

I love finding something with a bit of history and giving it a new home here. A mirror, a chair, a table, a lamp, a set of curtains — those things feel even better when they’re not brand new and perfect.

They add to the story rather than trying to erase it.

The house has already lived a life

I know some people would rather have everything brand new, untouched and completely neutral, and I do understand the appeal of that. But I love that this house has already lived a whole life before us.

Families have grown up here. Rooms have changed purpose. Decisions have been made, covered over, undone and rediscovered. There are marks and quirks and odd little choices everywhere, and even when they drive us mad, they are part of the history of the house.

Tom’s Chair is probably the loveliest example of that for us. It belonged to the previous owner, and his daughters left it here for us. It’s had a good clean and now it sits in the corner of the dining room, where I often sit and relax.

I love that it’s still here. It feels like a little link between the house as it was and the house as it is becoming, and I really like the idea that we haven’t just erased everything that came before us.

We’re not starting again completely. We’re adding to what was already here.

You start to notice beautiful little moments

When you live in a house like this, you start spotting little moments that make all the chaos feel worth it.

The light coming through a bay window, a fireplace looking lovely even before the room is finished, a corner that suddenly feels cosy, or a view from one room into another that makes you stop for a second. Those little moments are honestly what keep you going.

Because yes, there might be a list of jobs longer than my arm, but then the sun hits the room in exactly the right way and you remember that the house is beautiful, even when it’s unfinished.

There is something about living in an old house that makes very ordinary moments feel nicer too. A cup of tea in the dining room. Sitting in a sunny corner. Opening the curtains in a big bay window. Walking through rooms that feel solid and lived in and full of character.

It’s not glamorous most of the time. There are tools where tools should not be, paint samples balanced on sideboards and at least one thing in every room that needs doing.

But even so, it feels special. Not perfect. Not finished. But special.

You learn to be patient

I am not sure I would have chosen patience as a personal development goal, but here we are.

Living in a renovation project forces you to slow down a bit, whether you like it or not. You can’t do everything at once. You can’t fix every room immediately. You can’t make every decision perfectly the first time.

You have to live with things, change your mind, save up, rethink plans and accept that some things will just have to wait. And actually, that’s not always a bad thing.

Some of our better decisions have come from not rushing. We’ve lived with the house a little bit, worked out how we use the rooms and realised that what looks right on paper isn’t always what works in real life.

There are days when “adventure” might be too generous a word. Some days it feels more like an endurance test with some of the dramas we’ve had. But most of the time, it does feel like an adventure. 😀

We’re learning as we go, making mistakes, finding bargains, changing our minds, discovering strange things and slowly turning this house into our home. It’s not the quick or easy option, but I don’t think it was ever going to be.

It already feels like home

This is probably the biggest thing.

Even with the dust, the unfinished rooms, the questionable previous decisions and the ever-growing list of jobs, it already feels like home. Not because it’s perfect, because it definitely isn’t, but because it feels like ours.

Every little decision, every improvement, every second-hand find and every “we’ll get to that eventually” is slowly making it feel more and more like us.

And that’s the best thing about living in a Victorian reno project. We’re not just decorating a house. We’re building a home, bit by bit, in a place that already has so much heart.

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