Home again

June 2026.

It’s done.

After eight weeks of stress, mess, disruption, dust, and a level of domestic chaos I sincerely hope not to repeat any time soon, the kitchen rebuild is finally complete.

I liked the lads who worked here very much, and they have done a wonderful job, but after sharing the house with builders for the best part of two months, I was more than ready to wave them goodbye on Friday afternoon.

That evening, we began the process of moving back in.

Because I am, by my own admission, a sad sack, I had already drawn up a detailed plan showing where everything would live. The result was that unpacking proved far less stressful than it might otherwise have been. Boxes disappeared surprisingly quickly, cupboards began to fill, and for the first time in weeks the house started to feel like a home again rather than a building site.

Nobody, however, has embraced the renovation quite as enthusiastically as Pepper.

The French doors have become, in her mind, the greatest birthday present ever bestowed upon a dog. She moved into her new observation post on Friday and has spent most of the weekend staring into the garden like a small, furry security guard.

Her favourite target has been Kevin the street cat. Kevin was somewhat startled to discover that her previously discreet journeys through the garden are now monitored from floor level by an extremely opinionated Border Terrier. We recently discovered that Kevin is, in fact, not a boy at all, but after several years the name seems unlikely to change.

Most of Saturday was devoted to unpacking and cleaning. Every item seemed to require washing before being granted entry into its new home. Dust, it turns out, is remarkably good at finding places you didn’t know existed.

There is still work to do. The room needs painting, the old fireplace requires restoration, and no doubt there will be countless finishing touches over the coming months. But the important part is complete.

We’re in.

And what a room it has become.

Sunday began, as Sundays should, with a walk.

Pepper and I headed out onto a route I had largely forgotten about: Alden Ratchers. There had been reports of a juvenile Sea Eagle over Holcombe Moor during the previous week, and that was excuse enough for an early start.

I’ve been walking those paths for over twenty years, yet this was the first time I’d tackled the route anti-clockwise. It is remarkable how different familiar places can feel when approached from a new direction. At one point I found myself completely uncertain of the route, despite having walked the area countless times before.

The Sea Eagle failed to make an appearance, but the morning was far from a disappointment.

Along the way I encountered a group of local birders taking part in a bird race. Teams spread out across Rossendale for the day, attempting to record as many species as possible within a set time period. We chatted for a while and, before long, I found myself being invited to join their local birding group.

By the time I arrived home, I had already submitted my application.

Sunday afternoon was devoted to the garden.

After serving as a storage yard for building materials, rubble, and assorted renovation debris, it has been somewhat neglected this spring. The borders are untidy, weeds have taken advantage of the situation, and there is generally an air of abandonment about the place.

Over the coming weeks, the plan is simple. On the good days, I shall work in the garden. On the less pleasant days, I shall tackle the house. Eight weeks of building work have left a fine layer of dust over virtually everything we own, and cleaning has become something of a necessity rather than a choice.

There was, however, one final milestone to mark.

We still don’t have a proper dining table and chairs, so the garden furniture has temporarily been promoted to indoor use. On Sunday evening, sitting somewhat incongruously on patio chairs in the middle of a brand-new kitchen, we enjoyed our first proper dinner in the room.