When council estates were a dream
Their house is semi-detached, with pastel-coloured render covering the exterior and a red tiled roof. There are a couple of satellite dishes. In the concrete front garden the family car is parked.
Light floods the living room. There is an imposing fireplace, topped with a mirror. “I love the fireplace,” says Joanne. “I’m proud that I put it in myself.”
The improvements are worth it, she thinks. “My dad used to tell me - that when I close my front door, my house is my castle. I have to make my space comfortable.”
Her work has maximised the space. “I’ve taken out the kitchen toilet and have made a larder for my jars in its place.”
But her favourite place is the back garden. Filled with lush plants and bushes, and dotted with stone features, the garden has a narrow pathway that curves through a patch of neatly trimmed grass.
It’s a tranquil space and testament to two things - the pride former tenants take in their houses and the century-old spirit of the garden city.
