No Ordinary Terrace

The first time I visited Lee and Raquel, I almost couldn’t get through the front door. I had my laptop under one arm and tracing paper under the other and their entrance hall was doing its best to defeat me.

Bikes were hanging from the ceiling, shoes were scattered everywhere and coats had claimed every available hook. We stood there laughing, slightly tangled in it all, and they said, “See… this is why we need your help.”

That moment told me far more than any formal brief could have done.

They had already made the decision that mattered most, they were staying. They loved their street, the community around them and the energy of this particular part of Liverpool. The house itself had good bones but needed aligning to the way they actually live. 

Their starting point was a list of requirements, it was practical, detailed and refreshingly honest.

Client requirements

They needed space for three adult bikes. Somewhere cool and dry to store vegetables from the allotment. A wider hallway. Storage for LEGO creations. A place for a drum kit, guitar, banjo and trumpet.

They wanted to future-proof the house with better insulation, renewable technologies and a connection for a future electric car.

On the surface it read like a list of problems to solve. But the more time I spent with them, the clearer it became that these weren’t just functional requirements, they were reflections of who they are.

A request for dining space for ten people quickly turned into stories about long family meals and instruments coming out after dinner. The need for shelving came with an enthusiasm for growing and drying vegetables properly. A passing comment about liking white walls opened up into conversations about tiled entrances (Raquel grew up in Portugal), hand-stitched artwork from parents and furniture crafted by grandparents.

The house wasn’t lacking square metres; it was lacking alignment with their personality.

Tough questions

As the design developed, so did our ambition. We sketched constantly and tested ideas through models, drawings and physical samples. We explored reconfiguring the ground floor, reconsidered the first floor and discussed better access to the loft.

The conversation expanded into future-proofing the house with heat recovery systems, photovoltaics and carefully selected eco-friendly materials. It felt responsible and exciting and we allowed ourselves to explore what was possible.

Then, at a pre-start meeting, the builder presented us with a big slice of reality - We were £75,000 over budget.

Rather than asking what we could strip away, we began asking a different question:

what if the answer wasn’t more, but better?

What if we didn’t remove every wall in pursuit of openness?

What if the existing Victorian fabric was something to work with rather than against?

Quiet reflection

Today, when you walk through the front door, the house doesn’t overwhelm you. It feels calm and settled.

The hallway finally welcomes rather than obstructs. The bikes have a proper home. The vegetables are stored carefully. The drum kit belongs. Each element of their daily life has been considered and given space without compromising the character of the original terrace.

For me, this project reinforced something important. Home is not defined by how dramatic it looks in a photograph. It is defined by how it makes you feel when you step inside.

In this case, it feels like a warm embrace, from both the house and the people who live there.

It carries their personality quietly but confidently.