The Revivalists
Te Aute Crossroad S3 E10
Oscar had the right idea.
Oscar, if you recall, (from S1 E1) was the Aussie; the red Burmese. Barracked for St Kilda…
AKA Oscar Della Bosca, because of his rumoured links to a little-known Melbourne crime syndicate (who knew where he went nights? What he got up to?). O.D.B. for short (Aussies and their nicknames). Boski; Oski Boski (etc). Initially furious at being dragged from his Hawthorn East 'hood, adapted to the wide open spaces of his new, rural, locale. The indignation subsided. But not entirely…
Because Oscar hated renovations/revivals; whatever you call them. Able to spot a tradie at fifty metres, he would abscond immediately. Straight to bed. Burrow down between the sheets. Only a cat-sized convexity in the duvet betraying his whereabouts.
Very wise.
I remember, at one of my workplaces, we decided to renovate the entire floor, whilst still in occupation. Six months of skilsaws and ramset guns and things to trip over. Six months of chaos. A visitor stepped out of the lift, gaped, and asked if we were still in business.
That’s one approach.
The other, the one we adopted at The Brow—and the one most cities seem to use—is the ‘Never-Ending’ approach. Wellington’s Town Hall, for example, was closed in 2013 and won’t reopen until 2027. Work on Auckland’s City Rail Link has been going on—and on—since 2018 and will do until 2026. And that’s to pick just one project from each city. Not to mention Christchurch.
We did not consciously choose the Never-Ending option. We simply progressed as money became available. Or rather, on the glimmer of money becoming available. And whichever project muscled in, came next. Work began in 2003, and continued thereafter…
…I’ll spare you the bang-by-bang, blow-by-blow, dollar-by-dollar, but here’s a list (just for the house, not the garden or farm):
Remove the dining room wood-burner Install heat pumps Water supply upgrade New clerestory windows New front door Skylights in Chris's office Upgrade the ensuite Paint the house, paint the roof Revitalise and draft-proof the wooden joinery New kitchen Skylights in the lounge Upgrade the other two bathrooms Upgrade the laundry Re-roof the back porch Upgrade the waste water treatment Replace the window seat New carpet throughout Install modern wood-burner in the atrium
And here’s an interesting example of the restore v revive debate: the ensuite. To restore, we would have gone looking for a replacement pink toilet, pink handbasin and pink bath. Yeah right…
But—as revivalists—we not only re-tiled, replaced the bath with a shower, and modernised the fittings. We also increased the size of this window: to the size John Scott had originally proposed, but which the Pattisons had, for modesty, rejected. You can see from the photo how much larger the window was to become (and also the state the house was in: after we’d pulled off the ivy and before the painters arrived.)
…And then there was the new window seat. A project that only made it to the top of the list because the old window seat fell off.
I’ll just see how it’s attached, said Terry, undoing a couple of bolts. Curious. Thinking ahead, to when we might replace the window seat. Anticipating some long-time-away day. Some glimmering day.
Ker-rash!!
Bloody hell. Two bolts!
It was, undoubtedly, the most terrible moment of the entire Brow experience. A ram raid. We now had a hole, the size of a garage door, in our lounge wall. The window seat, smashed, disintegrated, broken glass everywhere, in the garden. No putting it back…
To better understand the expression, ‘My heart sank’, imagine you’re out on a boat somewhere, and someone—carelessly—picks up your heart, which was enjoying the sunshine and sea air, and throws it overboard, unaware that you were still actually using that, and remain attached to it, and can now see the neatly coiled connecting cord rapidly spooling away, until—with a sickening jerk—it pulls you over the edge and into the deep deep water and you’re following your heart down, down… No putting it back a voice is telling you. As your heart sinks.
This is really serious. Oh My God. We are definitely going to die.
Shit. sorry guys. Shall I put up a tarp? Do a quote for a new one?
…
Are you all right, you two?
Originally, reviving the Wellington Town Hall was expected to cost $43 million. Today, the total cost is expected to be $329 million. That’s the curse, and the blessing, of the Never-Ending approach: the curse is being captured by a project that—had you known what it would require of you—you would never have begun. The blessing being that you didn’t know and so you did begin and so have no choice, really, but to see it through.
As Gervais Laurie, from the Wellington City Council Town Hall Project puts it—
That’s the aim for this project, really: to keep this building going, so that people for generations can appreciate it.
Steve’s carefully considered instructions for how the ensuite tiles should be installed. The materials, some salvaged from the old, and the craftsmanship, of the new window seat. Beautiful. As the revived Town Hall will be. Wellington’s Notre Dame…
Nevertheless, Oscar was right…
Best to hide under the covers until it’s all done.
We agreed to make the mistake.
Markus Zusak in Three Dogs And The Truth.
Oski was one in a catrillion. What a warrior, albeit from underneath duvets.
And we didn’t die … and it was wonderful. We were made tougher then or perhaps more deluded 😟😣ðŸ¤