The Bungaloo, Headington
“I just bought a bungalow” said Gareth, the builder of The Pink House. I looked at him. “Do you need a designer for that? I asked. “Would you like a squatter?!“; I had been working in a shared office, then in Joe Miles’ office, and then with a friend in their office, to get away from my council flat, which was now dogless, and dogged with bad neighbours. Gareth agreed a trade; free rent in a dilapidated and derelict bungalow, in exchange for an architectural scheme for a house, to be built in place of the bungalow. Deal. I got the keys and moved in. The Bungalow was quite close to The Pink House, so I shuttled back and forth on my bike as it was being built.
Unfortunately for Gareth, Oxford City Council consider the row of bungalows to express a certain period of the city, that the area’s distinct characteristic is formed by the bungalows, and that the character of Oxford would be irrevocably damaged, should any change be made to any of the bungalows. I duly produced a scheme for a house; I respected the extents of the neighbouring bungalows, I used a complex mansard roof, it didn’t matter. Oxford City Council refused the application, and Gareth lost his appeal. Disappointed, Gareth later commissioned an architect to come up with a scheme. The council’s verdict on that proposal was even more excoriating than it had been for mine.
The Bungalow scheme had had to wait for me to finish my work at The Pink House, which Gareth need me to do in any case, so it wasn’t too much of a problem that the scheme wasn’t complete until late 2018. A new project for Joe Miles; North Street, was well under-way, and Gareth was going to appeal; my stay continued, but all the while I endured the nagging threat that my home would soon be sold, or demolished.
While I lived at The Bungalow, I cleared my debts, sang in chapel, learned to scuba dive, starred in University of Oxford student films, cycled Scotland, appeared on a Jackie Oates LP, and started restoration and conversion of my old sailing cruiser; Arwyn.
Given the architect’s unsuccessful scheme for The Bungalow took a further year, it wasn’t actually sold until 2021; face-masked viewings of my lockdown sanctuary commenced, and I was soon on my way, for what turned out to be a 2-year sabbatical.