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 Towering ambition After eight years of toil and £425,000 over budget, the owners of a Victorian water tower have a home that takes their breath away By Victoria O'Brien Published : 7 August 2005  A Grade II-listed Victorian water tower, even with expansive views over the rolling green Cheshire countryside, might not be most people’s first choice of “dream home”. The fact that Lymm Water Tower’s conversion took eight years to plan and build, soaking up £500,000 in renovation costs, might be even more of a deterrent. But its owners say the result has amply repaid years of living with the builders. Not only has their home been voted the “the best-lit house in Britain” and been shortlisted for a Riba award, it has also now been valued at a market price that far exceeds what was spent on it. Russell and Jannette Harris, who have two children, James, 16, and Sophie, 10, bought the water tower, in one-third of an acre of garden, for £136,000 in 1997, when a water company put it up for auction. Russell is a television presenter and producer, and Jannette a television production co-ordinator. They had just finished renovating a 1920s farmhouse nearby. By the time they’d finished with it, the once-roofless property had the prerequisite Aga, log-burning stove, rugs and country furniture. Still, this was a far cry from the supremely modernist design they ended up attaching to the water tower. “We did loads of research,” says Russell. “We were producing a television series for a digital channel, which had strands on inspirational homes.” As part of the research, they filmed at Skywood in Denham, Buckinghamshire, the contemporary glass house designed by Graham Phillips from the Norman Foster partnership, which appears in the Renault Clio “va-va-voom” adverts with Thierry Henry. “We’re not architects, and we weren’t certain we’d be able to achieve anything like Skywood or Crescent House),” says Russell. “Now we are getting the location agencies and film crews in here, comparing our home to these places — it’s phenomenal.” After being inspired by filming in modernist homes, the original, more romantic plans for leaving the dilapidated 19th-century stone-built tower as it was, and building a simple cottage in the grounds, fell by the wayside. “The tower is a little castle, or folly,” explains Jannette, “but it was never made to be lived in. It has 4ft- thick walls, and we wanted something modern and natural, with plenty of sunlight — a contrast between old and new. A little castellated extension just wouldn’t have been right.” Finally, their friend Julian Baker, from Ellis Williams Architects, suggested wrapping something modern around the base of the tower, and they worked for two years on the drawings, just to get planning permission. It was then that the costs started to spiral. “I’m Mr Optimist and Mr Naive,” admits Russell. “I was betting on about £75,000 for renovations, but by the time the estimates reached £450,000, I had just about given up.” When the Harrises bought the tower, it already had a modest annual income from four telecommunications masts sited on the top of it. Russell’s dream was to build a family home that was somehow self-financing, so he renegotiated the leases (he won’t say how much for), and basically doubled the income from them. They also struck a deal with a television company to film the whole renovation process, and counted on the fact that the unique, modern look of the place would have film and location agencies clamouring to use it. The tower was renovated, with two skilled stonemasons working flat out for six months, numbering each stone before cleaning and replacing it. Then it was wrapped by something that resembled Skywood: “I made it my job for five years — planning, development and raising the money,” explains Russell. “We were paying £1,200 a month in rent for a lovely double-fronted Georgian property nearby, but after two years we had to give that up.” They moved to a cheaper rented home, and the project continued. “We got paid to make the television programme, but that was basically a nine-month contract — and the building renovations ended up taking over three years on site. The original broadcaster pulled out of the television project because it had just become too protracted, and then one of the telecoms companies wanted to pull out, too.” For about a year, almost nothing happened at the water tower. Then Russell met Barry Harvey, chairman of the building developers Redrow, who lived nearby. Lymm interested him as a “future concept house”. So some of the work was carried out under the supervision of one of Redrow’s most experienced site managers, and Russell was able to get preferential rates from Redrow suppliers. This was the turning point. For a design-and-build project staggered over eight years, with no fewer than three architects involved (the final plan was down to Ellis Williams) and various contractors, all subject to financial constraints and the problems of working alongside a historic building, Lymm Water Tower is an awesomely coherent, sleek and brilliantly masterminded piece of architecture that covers 5,500sq ft of living space. Arctic white poured-resin flooring throughout means there are no visible seams, no rough edges and no skirtings. The Poggenpohl kitchen from CP Hart was meticulously planned by Jannette: the central counter-top cost £5,000 and was made from a single, thick, icing-sugar white slice of Corian (this fantastic space age-looking material made from mineral powder and acrylic resin is more durable and stain-resistant than marble); the sink is integrated into the same block. This inspired them to use Corian throughout the rest of the house, from the dining table and low, slab-like coffee table to windowsills (where slits in the Corian allow for subtle, concealed strip lighting) and trough-like basins in the bathrooms and utility room. There’s plenty of concealed storage, most of it simply fronted with glossy white Formica on plywood doors. In the original tower, there’s a circular “winter” sitting room on the ground floor. The double-height master bedroom, with its mezzanine bathroom, is on the floor above, encased in a grand sweep of muslin curtain. Above that are the office, a guest suite, a room for the telecoms equipment and a roof garden with hot tub. Linking the old with the new-build, large ice-block chunks of frosted Perspex have been used for stair treads, again subtly lit from below. Corian is also used for built-in desks in the children’s bedrooms. The main living area, with dramatic suspended fireplace and a step-up dining podium, has floor-to-ceiling windows and smart red sofas in block-like units, made to the couple’s exact specifications by a local upholsterer. Most of the lighting — devised by lighting designer Kate Wilkins, whose other work includes Tate Modern in London — is simply concealed fluorescent strips or cold-cathode tubes that are long-lasting and economical to run. Underfloor heating is also cleverly provided by a heating exchange system that uses the warmth generated by the telecommunications systems (in terms of radiation, these have been thoroughly checked and are several thousand times lower than European standards, though the Harrises were careful to rebuild and extend a side turret on the tower to cover the existing masts from view). Lymm Water Tower has been valued at £1.75m by a local agent, says Russell. It’s not easy to place a hard-and-fast value on such an unusual property, but a six-bedroom semi nearby recently sold for £1m, and since the Russells began their epic project, the village of Lymm has been outstripping neighbouring communities in the size of its property price hikes. “For years, we had no holidays. We sold our car and did nothing at weekends except work on the house,” says Russell. “Now we just want to enjoy it. We worked hard to get here, and it’s where we’re intending to stay for a while.” |
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