The build is a torturous struggle at times, but it all falls into place when Monty gets to work on his glazed sliding roof

Having wrenched my way through the mire of planning, failure, more planning and then impossible finances, it was extraordinary to find myself finally poised at the controls of the biggest journey of my life. The three-tonne digger looked small on the truck, but by the time I had squeezed it onto the site it seemed scarily huge. A panic-stricken re-measure of the freshly cleared area confirmed that our house would still fit.

The first concrete foundation pour was meant to flow evenly to fill 20 metres of the redundant sewer. Did it heck! It was 12 hours later, in the depths of a winter’s night, before we finished. None of us had boots, none of us now had backs, and the car headlights had drained the battery.

The all-too-painful lesson of that first concrete session meant hiring a pump for the next one. For £280, the mother of all machines nonchalantly spewed 30 tonnes out of a nozzle exactly as we wanted it. If only the ‘power floating’ had been so straightforward – it’s a polishing process that can only happen as fast as the concrete dries, and uses a lawnmower-sized helicopter with whirling blades that compacts the concrete into submission. Given that the machine makes a similar amount of noise (and took twenty hours after a 6am start), this must have really pleased the neighbours. But it did give a wonderfully smooth finish to a commonly hard material, so was well worth it.

With the foundations complete, it was time to build the shell. Ours was a lightweight inter-dependent structure, loosely comparable to a house of cards – if you take away any element it won’t stand. The pressed steel would be fine at supporting the building’s weight, but it needed the fireproofing boards and plywood in place to render it stable. Like the playing cards, it was tricky to assemble enough sections to hold each other steady without one or another falling down. I solved it by making a temporary supporting jig from scaffolding, then with a concoction of ropes, poles and pallets, we heaved the four main steel beams up onto the top. These few moments of hard labour meant we avoided the need to hire costly cranes, and that was one less thing to schedule in.

Next came the walls, built in underneath. Those pesky walls had to fit against the neighbour’s wall with a tiny 50mm gap so they practically had to be built from the outside in. Simple to do with bricks, but not so easy with modern materials. We ended up assembling the walls on the ground in layered sections small enough to install by hand. Each sandwich of light-gauge steel framing, fireproof boards, insulation and breather membrane was piled up then finished off with battens and plywood. As each section was levered up into place, the house began to take shape.

The final walls to go up in the main space were the sloped mezzanine ones, which would also stabilise the whole building. It was only after they were in place along with the main roof that we held our breaths and undid the bolts on the jig to see if it would all stay up. It did! Finally there was space to make the pièce de résistance: the opening rooflight. This was a huge milestone – it had only taken us an exhausting 14 months to get to it.

Suddenly, everything seemed to be happening at once: Claire was hauling handfuls of wire through the framing; I could start twiddling with the plumbing; Ben was preparing the roof for its windows, and Olly’s gang were throwing the ply and plasterboard up. We saved a packet by buying third-hand ply from a salvage yard – initially to use as floor protection but we ended up using it for the walls. This frugality is typical of the self-builder – that or over-finessing the details, which leads to obsessiveness about managing time and costs.

Luckily, I was saved from becoming too controlling by Claire (of course) and Olly, the year-out architecture student who managed the site. He’d been referred to me as a cocky fella who could do with a baptism of fire. And, given my lack of experience and the innovative nature of the design and materials, we were always going to need an exceptional character on site. Luckily Olly turned out to be just that. He believed and cared about the project, which was critical. Olly was the one helping to keep us a step ahead, and gave me hope that life could go on. At one point, I closed the site for two days so they could all help produce a pop promo for The Corrs. Which goes to show that if you hand-pick your team, how enterprising and willing they can be too.

Useful Contacts

Architect: Richard Paxton Architects www.rparch.com
Architect: Morrarc www.mooarc.com
Fit out architects: Flower Michelin 07789 482992
Structural enngineers: Elliot Wood Partnership
Beskpoke kichen: Andrew Stanley Wood Working 020 8533 6199
Floor heating: Invisible heating Supplies Ltd www.invisibleheating.co.uk
Floor heating: Floor Warming Company www.floorwarmingcompany.co.uk
Flat and curved roofing: Flat roofing Soutions www.flatroofingsolutions.co.uk
Flooring: Whittle Flooring 01772 641211
Sliding and folding glazing: I-D Systems www.i-d-systems.co.uk
Wiring systems: Lutron www.lutron.com
Roof glazing: Solarglass www.saint-gobain-glass.com
Sliding roof light: Raven services www.slidingroofs.com
Spa bath: Airbath www.airbath.co.uk
Specialist glass supplier: Fusion www.fusion.co.uk
Western red cedar cladding: vincent timber Ltd www.vincenttimber.co.uk
Whole house ventilation: Vent axia www.ventaxia.com
Garden Design: Sacha Kemp-Potter www.sachakp.com
Garden design: Bartholomew Landscapes www.bls1.co.uk
Clair's tango dance studio: www.tangolondon.com

Words: Monty Ravenscroft Photography: Jefferson Smith