This summer, my husband and I bought our first home. Having been living in a big flat with high ceilings and sprawling open plan living for the past five years, the reality of what we could afford as our first step on the property ladder hit us like a DIY toolkit in the face. Luckily, we are not short of a little imagination, so when we finally came across a dilapidated, 1950’s terraced house that hadn’t been decorated since the 60’s with a distinct whiff of stale smoke, all we saw was: garden? Tick. 3 beds? Tick. Leafy area with a great school and a decent coffee shop? Tick. It had me at hello.