TODAY THE KITCHEN is at the heart of the home but in Victorian times it was well ‘below stairs’ - quite literally in the bigger houses.

In our house, the kitchen was originally in the basement. According to the 1861 Census, the house’s original ownersThomas & Elizabeth Daws had a cook and two servants in domestic service preparing their food and waiting on them hand, foot and finger.

I’m lucky if one of my kids will make me a cup of tea.

It was just over a year ago we picked up the keys to our third and most definitely final fixer-upper in our ‘Forever House’ renovation trilogy ‘The Victorian Forever House - This Time We Mean It.’

Unlike our previous two Forever projects, this 1860s heap had already been updated over the years, but we believed still offered investment potential and - billy bonus - it backed onto the river.

The Victorian Forever House the day we viewed it

We knew we would have to renovate the kitchen the day we first looked around in July 2018. A glossy Italian affair, this had been shoehorned into a former corridor on the ground floor. Although it had clearly been modernised in recent times and probably not cheaply, its size and scope seemed hopelessly inadequate for a six-bedroom house.

View of the kitchen /dining area as it was when we bought it, separated by a stud wall.

This home demanded a show-stopping kitchen, and this became a key part of our plans to renovate the house to add value and give us a positive return on our investment.

I should point out here that the word ‘Forever’ is used loosely in the case of this home. ‘Forever’ is more of our guide to planning & designing the living space and layout so that - bloody hell- future families might enjoy it ‘forever.’

It’s one thing financing such a project but it would take a lottery win or miracle for us to see out our retirement here. Of course ‘The Victorian Investment House - This Time we Know We Can’t Stay Forever’ has less of a ring to it. But now you know.

The dilemma we faced when planning the renovations (and I firmly chalk this up under the heading first-world problems) is that big old houses are not designed for 21st Century living.

My hopes of reinstating the kitchen in its huge basement space, the tell-tale shape of the old range cooker thinly veiled by new plasterboard in the original fireplace, were quickly abandoned when Andy pointed out that no-one buys a house on the river to spend the majority of their day overlooking a coal bunker.

The ground floor it would have to be, but as this consisted of a ridiculously large hallway, two stately -sized rooms with marble fireplaces and an abundance of huge feature windows (first-world problems, first -world problems) and a small front parlour, the current corridor kitchen began to look like less of a compromise and more of a solution.

I toyed with sacrificing the marble fireplace in the dining area to give us a straight run of wall space for kitchen units, but quickly shelved this idea, horrified at the prospect of ripping out any of the house’s original features. Not on my watch.

A few taps on the walls around the room revealed that the partion dividing the kitchen and dining area was only stud work. By removing these stud walls and ripping out the existing kitchen we realised we could open up the space to create one large open plan kitchen diner, giving us a lot of bang for our buck in the usable space stakes.

While we wouldn’t reclaim a straight run of wall space, taking out the stud partition walls and the kitchen peninsula would create enough open space in the middle of the room for a huge kitchen island housing at least six units and a beast of a worktop. Winning.

No show-stopping kitchen would be complete without an aspirational kitchen label and top of my lust-list was deVol. (#notanad)

Their classic style combined with antique and vintage accessories and styling had me swooning whenever I laid eyes on it.

Despite a large portion of our renovation budget ear-marked for the kitchen - it’s the room that sells the house, according to estate agents - I didn’t think we’d be anywhere near the deVol ball-park. I braced myself for disappointment but was pleasantly surprised to find their entry level range The Real Shaker Kitchen was within reach.

While I designed the kitchen layout myself - making sure it would work in the available space was an essential to its very existence - deVol designer Oli Ramirez was full of advice on all the available options. We sense-checked dimensions of units and how much space to leave for walkways (80cm - 100cm if you’re wondering). Where the exact- sized modular unit was not available, a bespoke shaker unit could be built for a little extra, giving endless possibilities and the perfect hybrid between an off-the-shelf and a bespoke kitchen.

Trips to the London-based showrooms were so much fun I kept going back for a mooch long after I’d ordered the kitchen. I even made it to the New York showroom for a drool during a sight-seeing weekend with my 18-year-old daughter Grace who happily agreed to trade me an hour in deVol for an hour in Sephora. Still haven’t made the pilgrimage up the M1 to Cotes Mill, but any day now.

For a long time I’d been obsessed with the idea of a black kitchen, with a strong contrasting colour for worktops and walls. The House of Hackney print ‘Artemis’ became the focal point of my design ideas, incorporating mustard, corals and white against a black background. The wall colour clearly couldn’t be mustard - this felt too modern and punchy for the house - and although I love the drama of dark interiors, black walls were definitely a bridge too far in a property we needed to sell.

The House of Hackney print ‘Artemis’ was my colour scheme inspiration

I settled on a warm coral and bought samples of Raw Plaster from Abigail Ahern, painting out an entire wall some months before the build began. Satisfied with my choice - different and interesting - I ordered the paint.

Within minutes of the decorators starting I knew it was wrong. Warm coral turned to turd brown before my eyes and instead of elevating and enhancing the space, the colour killed it.

I agonised over changing my mind for a full 24 hours, imagining that once the units and all my bits were in it would start to come together, but by dawn the next morning I’d decided to trust my instinct and was awake Googling alternatives. By 7am I was in Brewers to pick up the paint I believed would save the day, based solely on its Farrow & Ball description and a quick squiz of its reviews. Setting Plaster.

Months of planning & designing a dream kitchen had come to this - panic buying, which just goes to show, the ONLY way to be sure of a paint colour is to paint the whole room. And Abigail Ahern herself has said the same.

Thankfully the Setting Plaster worked, setting off the green of the garden beyond beautifully. Artemis was abandoned in favour of a muted pastel scheme grounded by black. The white marble worktop on the island upgraded to copper after I persuaded Andy into the St John’s showroom in his lunch hour and agreed in return that we would no longer replace the room’s Victorian shutters.

I’ve intentionally kept the space patternless, apart from a couple of black & white cushions. I want the features of the room to do the talking, including the original marble fireplace which I’m so glad we’ve managed to save for future families to love.

The trade off has been the proximity of the utility room, relegated a short hike away in the original basement kitchen. It’s a small compromise and actually feels like the house has come full circle, blending the needs of generations from 1860 to 2020. I hope Tom & Liz approve.