I love this house. Once you look beyond the eccentric colour schemes, dust and artex it has such lovely bones. I was pottering round with a screwdriver removing funny little corner shelves and brittle, yellowing curtain tracks. I couldn’t resist sticking the point of the screwdriver down the crack in the boarded-up second bedroom fireplace (can you spot a tool-related mischief theme here?) I expected to find a gaping hole, or a dodgy old gas fire, but lo and behold there was a beautiful cast iron fire surround, albeit covered in bird poo.
It has me wondering whether it was covered because the previous owners thought it was ugly, or a risk to small children, or something else?