An English grandmother with a long academic career behind her, Dr Julia Ibbotson decided to return to her creative roots, both mentally and physically. When her husband retired they bought a Victorian rectory in the middle of the moors in central England, and without any previous experience set about renovating it. To be truthful they did not undertake the physical work themselves but closely project-managed it. As a result, Julia created two new careers for herself: as a writer when she determined to write about this period of her life, and as a “home cooking with love” advocate.
This is the second post in Julia's delightful three-part weekly series exclusively for Spirited Woman.
Right from the start, we seemed to swing from one disaster to another. I was trying to be positive; my husband muttered darkly about the money-pit that was our new home.
We knew from the building survey that there was damp in the walls, but not the extent of it…oh dear, walls had to be stripped; there was plaster dust everywhere, and underneath was revealed a jumble of stone and brick as though the original builders had thrown together any available material to make up the walls. I had visions of my house crumbling to the ground. “Well, it’s stayed up 150 years or more!” said our builder. Yes, I thought, that’s true. Why am I worried!
At the same time, we raised the floorboards to investigate the wiring and found that the previous occupants had fixed the jumble of electric cables together with tape. “Oh dear,” muttered the electrician, “I’m surprised the house hasn’t burnt down!” OK, I thought, could have been a disaster, but it hasn’t been! We spent three weeks in a caravan in the grounds until the house was completely rewired and a host of new cables fitted. Good as new!
Every new job seemed to inevitably give rise to another job. Raising the floor boards in the little cottagey guest bedroom upstairs necessitated the dismantling of the old Victorian bedroom fireplace. My husband huffed and puffed about the work. But then we made a wonderful discovery! Stuffed into the fireplace, but not burned, were photographs of the rectors who had lived in the house and documents about the rectory as it had been in the nineteenth century. It made me determined to investigate further into the lives of the long-ago residents in the house, and to use my discoveries in my writing.
Then the kitchen, my carefully planned dream, literally fell into a nightmare as the ceiling collapsed. The old beams, it seemed, had not been properly fixed back after a repair job by previous occupants. We realised that the last two families living in the rectory had the DIY craze, even though they knew little about how to fix repairs properly, so we had inherited a “hell” of poor workmanship.
But, again, discovery! It was when the kitchen ceiling fell that we uncovered the old fireplace and chimney, which had been boarded up. How lovely it would be to have a big fire or a range as in Victorian times. How many women before me had sat by that fire and reflected upon their lives, their hopes and fears, through all that had happened since 1860 when the house was built? How many disasters for them had been overcome and turned around?
I learned that I needed to “go with the flow”, roll with it all, and focus on the positive. After all, to tell the truth, any disaster could be food for my writing, couldn’t it?
But then there was one disaster that tested me to the limit. My dear younger daughter was diagnosed with cancer, and our world fell apart….
- Dr Julia Ibbotson, www.juliaibbotson.com
Click here to read more of Julia's posts.
My book will be out by August 2011and is called The Old Rectory: Escape to a Country Kitchen. I do hope you read it and enjoy the stories and the recipes!
If only this cottage could talk and tell us about more about the families that lived there. Your home is the history of everyone who built it and lived in it, including yourself, and your life's essence is blended with everyone else's in every feature of a historic house. History is not so much a description of the stuff that happened in the past, but a way to describe and hold onto the essence of those who lovingly swept the floors, made plans, raised families, and raised glasses at the dinner table in your home. People who restore buildings have a special place in my heart, especially when they make them their homes.
Posted by: Susan Roth | June 27, 2011 at 07:54 AM