Scott and Pippa Paton realised their semi-subterranean retirement home might be in trouble when, during a pause in construction, the unfinished structure filled with rainwater and began to float.
“Our new home literally lifted out of the ground,” Scott says. It was always going to be a quirky project. For starters, it’s upside down: the bedrooms are on the lower level, with the living spaces on the upper floor, at ground level.
The new home is in the grounds of their larger old house in a village west of Oxford. The family have lived there for 14 years but with one son working in London and their daughter finishing university, the 4,500 sq ft house, set in 4.5 acres, was too large for their future needs.
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“We’d always eyed up the space in our grounds,” Scott says. “We’re in our early sixties [both are 61] and want something that’s easier to manage — but we also like where we live. The solution was to build in the garden and sell our family home.” The perfect spot was on the site of a former pigsty.
The site of the former pigsty which was to become the Patons’ new home
The Patons faced vociferous objections from the parish council, though. “It was sad to be vilified by our community for building a house that we believed would enhance the community rather than diminish it, but we eventually got it through,” Scott says.
Work began in August 2019 but, for all their careful planning, they could not account for the weather. As soon as the spades broke ground, the heavens opened. Water filled the excavation, mixing with the soil, a blend of clay and sand, and turning the site into a soggy, unstable mess.
The excavation site was prone to fill with water, which severely complicated the project
“Our only option was to sheet-pile the whole plot [creating a groundwater barrier] — it was hundreds and hundreds of cubic metres,” Scott explains. “That base gave us the foundations. We effectively then built a concrete boat.”
The dropping of the sheets and then driving them into the ground caused a mini earthquake. Charlie, a neighbour, called the Patons to say, “Not to worry you, but the mugs on my kitchen shelf are falling off.”
Even after that phase was completed, with the mugs saved, and it seemed like things were finally looking up, they weren’t.
The Covid pandemic stopped all work and while the site stood still, water built up beneath it, so it began to move. “When the builders returned they argued about how the building had tilted — it had literally floated,” Scott says. Water pressure had built up underneath, lifting up the back by three inches. “I couldn’t even face telling Pippa.”
The solution required the input of hydrologists and engineers. “We pumped out the water, put in another layer of concrete on top, and that put it back to its original position,” Scott says.
Hydrologists and engineers were required to finalise the foundations
Remedying the problem cost £60,000. Post-Covid price increases for materials added another 10 per cent to the overall build cost.
“A sheet of plywood that was £12 became £32,” he recalls. “Once we got past the wobbly, floaty house, the expenses and it was finally dry, the next challenge was sticking to the internal plans.”
But locking in decisions wasn’t as straightforward as they had thought. Choices like flooring — resin, tiles or micro-cement — became one layer of a complex process.
The lack of straight lines caused further headaches. The house has a curve to the front and the back, a deliberate design which reflects its position on a bending driveway. “That meant there were a lot of fittings you couldn’t just buy off the shelf,” Scott says. A curved kitchen also meant that standard units wouldn’t work — there was no alternative but to have it custom-made. “I love that it’s quirky. The kitchen was our biggest indulgence,” Pippa says.
Power cable rules changed unexpectedly too, causing further issues. “We ended up being three metres beyond allowances and they simply wouldn’t budge,” Scott says. This meant a costly new cable had to be installed, which escalated the cost from £3,000 to a staggering £30,000.
Costs had to be cut somewhere. The original quote for the external staircase was nearly £30,000, but in the end it was created for just £5,000 by pairing bespoke parts with off-the-shelf ones.
The Cotswold stone, cladding the curved walls along the driveway, was not so cheap, however. The stone is an essential part of the design as it blends the new-build with the neighbour’s wall, making the home almost invisible from the road. Using an alternative material wasn’t an option. Instead, as Scott explains, “what we could do was change the ashlar stone for a composite. You wouldn’t know it”. The total build cost came to £750,000.
Inside the Patons’ new home, which was designed to feel light and spacious
The Patons call their new house a Tardis — though half the size of their old home, its layout feels light and spacious. With three bedrooms and a media room that could be converted to a fourth, there’s ample space for visiting family and friends. They plan to move in after selling their old home. Until then, they are letting it out as a temporary measure.
“I love it,” Pippa says of the end result. “It feels cocooning. It’s painted white but the beauty is that our
artwork and other pieces really stand out on that blank canvas.”
Honouring the future legacy of their new home was always a priority. “We were keen to avoid a blot on the landscape,” Scott says. “If you view the house from 150 metres away, it sits so well with ours and our neighbours’ properties. That’s exactly what we set out to achieve.”