Moving Home Can Be A Long Drawn Out Affair

A Pig Barn Is Due For A Second Makeover

A New Chapter

Since April last year, every trip south to Cambridgeshire has had me and my daughter and her husband lugging boxes and pieces of furniture up to the Scottish Borders. Slowly but surely, the components of my home there arrived here, and each treasure has been unloaded into a building that, once-upon-a-time, served as a pig barn.

Although my move is now complete—it feels like I’ve been editing my life for far too long—the unpacking, rearrangement of furniture, and settling in has to wait a while.

This barn was once part of a farmstead. It’s the type of building they call a Steading here in Scotland. It’s perfect, except that when it was converted in the early 2000s it was designed with youngsters in mind. The rectangular space has a mezzanine floor at each end with ladders for access. At an age when I’m done with climbing ladders I simply have to make changes to the interior layout.

The Steading may well have been here for more than a hundred years; it already sits comfortably in its surroundings and, structurally, it’s in good shape. I don’t need to change how it looks from the outside; I shan’t mess with the roof, walls, or floors.

Wisteria blooming outside the front door of the Steading back in the spring.

I have a modest budget, which forces me to think deeply about what matters. In so many ways I can relate this remodelling project to writing a book. It requires a similar kind of discipline. Both need research to ensure I find the perfect mix of materials; both require energy to keep going even when things get tough; both take many months of daily attention and persistence; and, for both there’s hopefully tangible evidence of achievement. The one big difference is that I’m relying on other people for the remodelling project. But perhaps I can finish the book I’m writing—this is in my control—then maybe I can move back into the Steading with my final draft complete!

Old Barns

When I first saw the Steading it brought back memories of a barn in Northamptonshire, England—a brick-built tumbledown ruin.

In a corner, hidden beneath a pile of dusty old sacks, I found a heap of brown beer bottles. The farmhands must have enjoyed lunch there, taking shelter from the weather, a beer and a crust of bread, lump of cheese, and an apple maybe.

The isolated property had no electricity, water, or drainage, although strangely there was a telephone line, so communication with the outside world was possible. I bought it with a view to making it into a home. If the wonky walls were good enough for animals they were good enough for me. The big risk was if I didn’t find ground water… but thankfully I did. I sank a borehole and found sweet drinking water nearly 200ft down.

After several months the barn was habitable and as I, and the building and the land, sighed with relief I established a connection to the hedges and fields that surrounded me. I watched sheep with their lambs, observed owls and foxes at night, followed badger trails, made vegetable beds, and unwittingly created a nursery for grass snakes in my compost heap.

I loved living in that barn; the past was present every day as I crossed the threshold, the very same stone steps that consecutive farmers would have used over the course of a century or more. And, at times when I sat on the sofa and let my mind wander, I fancied I could hear cows being milked right there in the parlour that had become my sitting room.

Ties to the land felt honest and true, and the relationship between human and animal was closer there than anywhere else I’d lived before. So, now I’m living in another barn, a pig barn this time, and I’m happy about it.

Multi-generational Living

Back in the early 2000s this parcel of land and its pig barns were bought by the previous owners. They converted the sties into living quarters and added a two-storey extension. Altogether the buildings form a U-shape which in turn creates a pleasant sheltered courtyard. It’s perfect accommodation for us, for our multi-generational family. My part, the Steading, has thick stone walls and it’s very well insulated. Light slants in through windows in the roof; I can see the moon and stars at night—it’s magical.

The Development Plan

My plan is to reflect the simplicity of the setting here in Scotland, which is rural and unsophisticated, and my research alighted on a building, ‘Fallingwater’, which is near Pittsburgh in Pennsylvania, USA. It was designed in the 1930s by the architect Frank Lloyd Wright and has been hailed as one of his masterpieces.

Wright’s ideas for creating the perfect living space align very much with my own. He aimed to reduce the number of interior walls to create open plan living areas and, for me, when every inch has to work hard, a multi-functional space is essential. I like the fact that I can cook, eat, work, rest, and play in one room.

Often referred to as a proponent of organic architecture, Wright wanted his buildings to become part of the landscape and to connect with nature, so he added balconies and terraces to encourage an easy transition from indoors to outdoors—he even created internal gardens. The Steading faces in towards our courtyard, which is a kind of indoor garden. I shall swop a small high window for one that goes floor-to-ceiling so I can sit beside it while I’m having a morning cup of tea and commune with the birds as they busy themselves making nests in the eaves in spring.

The Timetable

Currently, I’m talking to tradespeople to get quotes for the work and expecting the Council to come back with questions about the plans. (I must wait for permission before I commence the works, so this is a time of research and planning.) Once the project starts I will have to move out and take up temporary residence in the main house across the courtyard. In effect, a second edit of all my stuff!

For several weeks, the Steading will be subject to noise and dust as it undergoes major change to become my permanent home. I hope to get a deeper sense of the history of this place as we strip it back to its bones. There’ll be no time to change my plans as work will advance quickly. And, whilst it’s ongoing, I’ll share with you drawings, material choices, my mood board, and notes on how the project progresses.

Writing Prompt

For this week’s writing prompt take a room in your house and write a short piece (max 500 words) that illustrates how the space is used now, and what was there before. Pigs and cows may not have lived there, but perhaps there will be some history waiting to be uncovered—research the facts, or use your imagination to reveal a past that weaves with the present.

JANUARY OFFER

Offer for Annual Paid Subscribers: Receive private personal feedback on your piece of writing inspired by this prompt. Send me a DM with the word FEEDBACK and I’ll respond. You’ll get detailed craft notes on your work. This offer expires on 28 February 2026.

As ever, I look forward to chatting with you in the comments.

Credits, Notes, and Links

• Images above are my own.

• For more about ‘Fallingwater’ watch a short film on YouTube.

In this Substack we celebrate the art and craft of Place Writing. Join our friendly group of subscribers to be informed and inspired. We appreciate creative writing, intelligent conversation, and considered reflections on Nature, Home, and Place. Subscribe now to get weekly posts delivered to your in-box free.