OFF THE RAILS - 11 MARCH 2008

OFF THE RAILS

11 MARCH 2008

We’ve become accustomed to the comments, over the years. “Oh look! An old railway carriage! Anyone on board?” And once, a four year old, responding to his mother’s enthusiasm with total disdain: “But Mummy, why would anyone want to live in a broken down old train?” There have been times, it is true, when we have asked ourselves precisely this question. Why would anyone with a perfectly good home in London want to spend more and more time in a house cobbled together from a couple of Victorian railway carriages that have seen better days? The answers - and there are many - include the following: Because they are unutterably beautiful - especially when the early morning sun rises out of the sea and slants through the rows of small windows to illuminate the interconnecting rooms.

Because they represent a gloriously eccentric period from Britain’s past, when all manner of strange hybrid houses incorporating trains, trams and double-decker buses met the post-First World War housing crisis with a string of ramshackle makeshift communities along the south and east coasts. Because of the endless original details and surprises: the raised semi-circlular windows of the “birdcage” guard’s carriage; heavy round brass door handles (we unearthed two in the garden); pressed brass “strike plates” near the windows for lighting matches; clunky locks and latches, and all manner of strange finds and scribbled messages left by former occupants that we’re still discovering (our favourite, on a plywood panel inserted into the bathroom window, reads: “Knickers! Pouring with rain:1980 the wettest year on record”).

Because we’d seen and loved Harold and Maude (the 1971 cult Hal Ashby movie where 79-year-old Maude lives in a railroad car). Because, when we first found the house, it had been a happy family home - painted in pale pink, dove grey and eau de nil and crammed with books and paintings - but after 34 years of being rented out with no proper money allocated for repairs, was in desperate need of attention.

Because the carriages are parked up along a beautiful but refreshingly unfashionable section of the south coast, with shingle fields behind us, horses grazing in front, and a short hop over the sea wall to one of the most unspoilt yet unfrequented beaches within a reasonable ride from London.

To arrive here after dark, bumping down the unmade track and stepping out to the sound of the sea and the sight of the stars as only they can look when there’s no artificial light to diminish their impact, is still one of the greatest thrills I know.

So, before we knew it we had not only bought the place - for the price of the plot, I might add, which still seems the most amazing bargain - but were hatching plans to make it, one day, our permanent home. The birth of our daughter in 2004 only consolidated these aims, and we began drawing up plans to convert the carriages into an eco-house complete with solar panel, underfloor heating fuelled mainly by a woodburner, turf and sedum roofing, rainwater harvesting and designed along the principles of ‘passive solar gain’ (lots of windows that help heat the place up when the winter sun is low but are shielded from the hot summer rays). It’s been a long process, spanning several years, two architects and two planning applications (one refused) - all chronicled in my Guardian Weekend column, The Green House on my website and at Guardian Unlimited - but we’re finally, it seems we’re on the verge of starting work. I’m absolutely exhilarated - when I’m not terrified, that is.

The building is the stuff of dreams - I’ve wanted to build an eco house since seeing the turf roofs and whisky barrel houses at Findhorn in Scotland in the early 90s - and will be a wonderful place to live, and for our daughter to grow up in. But there’s obviously a load of upheaval ahead - for us, for the carriages, the garden, our neighbours and surrounding environment. As the drawings near completion, we’re still not sure exactly how much it’ll all cost nor how long the job will take. But we know we want to do it, and that all the time and effort and expense will be worth it in the end. If you fancy joining us on the journey, I’ll be recording our progress - with more photographs - every week or so here from now on. Fingers crossed it will shortly be full steam ahead….

For more pictures, click on Eco-house.