Loft Conversion Quotes

Finally, he allowed me to turn the key in the lock and the front door, with its porthole-shaped window, swung open. I don’t know what I’d expected. I’d tried not to conjure up fantasies of any kind, but what I saw left me inarticulate. The entire apartment had the feel of a ship’s interior. The walls were highly polished teak and oak, with shelves and cubbyholes on every side. The kitchenette was still located to the right where the old one had been, a galley-style arrangement with a pint-size stove and refrigerator. A microwave oven and trash compactor had been added. Tucked in beside the kitchen was a stacking washer-dryer, and next to that was a tiny bathroom. In the living area, a sofa had been built into a window bay, with two royal blue canvas director’s chairs arranged to form a “conversational grouping.” Henry did a quick demonstration of how the sofa could be extended into sleeping accommodations for company, a trundle bed in effect. The dimensions of the main room were still roughly fifteen feet on a side, but now there was a sleeping loft above, accessible by way of a tiny spiral staircase where my former storage space had been. In the old place, I’d usually slept naked on the couch in an envelope of folded quilt. Now, I was going to have an actual bedroom of my own. I wound my way up, staring in amazement at the double-size platform bed with drawers underneath. In the ceiling above the bed, there was a round shaft extending through the roof, capped by a clear Plexiglas skylight that seemed to fling light down on the blue-and-white patchwork coverlet. Loft windows looked out to the ocean on one side and the mountains on the other. Along the back wall, there was an expanse of cedar-lined closet space with a rod for hanging clothes, pegs for miscellaneous items, shoe racks, and floor-to-ceiling drawers. Just off the loft, there was a small bathroom. The tub was sunken with a built-in shower and a window right at tub level, the wooden sill lined with plants. I could bathe among the treetops, looking out at the ocean where the clouds were piling up like bubbles. The towels were the same royal blue as the cotton shag carpeting. Even the eggs of milled soap were blue, arranged in a white china dish on the edge of the round brass sink.

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You brewed this?" Sanna cringed at the term brew, but didn't feel like going into the difference between brewing and fermenting- so she nodded and focused on her food. That way, she couldn't pay attention to how his long fingers held the glass in his hands as he studied the color. He may as well have been studying her. She felt exposed and naked as he took another sip. Did he like it? Hate it? Not everyone liked cider, and normally she didn't care. She didn't want to care now. Instead, she built the perfect forkful of Parmesan, lettuce, and crouton rather than watch him- but that didn't stop her from hearing the clink of glass on his teeth as he took a much longer sip. "That's astounding," he said. "It goes so much better with the meal than any red wine I've ever had." He smacked his lips and took another sip. "It really lets the food shine." Sanna had to respond. She couldn't ignore him no matter how much she wanted to. She couldn't keep eating, then escape with a plate of dessert to the loft as she usually did. She couldn't rewind time to the beginning of the summer when she only thought about the next cider she wanted to blend. Or ignore that the memory of him washing her hands after her dad's accident had played through her mind before she'd fallen asleep every night that week. "Thank you." That's all she could muster and hoped it would be enough. She could feel her father watching her, and Mrs. Dibble half listening to their very one-sided conversation. She sipped her own cider and enjoyed the burst of soothing rich brown that rushed her senses. Toasty really wasn't the right term. It was lush and alive, like peat or a balanced dark chocolate. "Sanna, this is amazing." His voice was soft and rumbling as he tried to keep the conversation from prying ears and eyes. When did their chairs become so close? They had an entire table. His voice in her ear was rich, just like the cider was in her throat. She couldn't help but look at him, and his face was so close. Everything about him was rich and balanced. He was the physical embodiment of this cider. Would she discover more layers the longer she knew him? He was close enough that the flecks of gold in his eyes sparkled at her like the cider's missing effervescence. He was close enough for her to smell the cider on his breath, the color of it making her light-headed and giddy.

Instead of moving house to gain extra space why not consider an extension to give you the living space you require without leaving the home you love. We specialise in building extensions and loft conversions and have a great deal of experience in making your house the home of your dreams. When you require builders for an extension, renovation or the development of your property, you only need make one call to us and our experts will work with you to make it all become a reality.

And this,' Astrid says, gesturing at a wiry gentleman wearing eyeglasses and a houndstooth suit in need of pressing, standing a little distance away from the rest of the group, looking slightly uncomfortable, 'is Dexter Palmer, and he's a—what?' 'I,' says Dexter Palmer. 'Um.' 'He's a novelist,' Astrid brays, and Harold looks at Dexter, at his right arm rubbing his threadbare left elbow. Harold sees the oaken trunk in the corner of Dexter's filthy downtown loft with an enormous padlock on it, sees the tens of thousands of pages of handwritten manuscript that fill it. He sees the stub of the tallow candle on Dexter's rickety wooden desk, purchased for a dollar-fifty at a rummage sale. He sees the short leg of the desk propped up with a seven-hundred page study of phrenology, printed during the age of miracles. He sees Dexter's eyes going bad by candlelight, a whole diopter lost with each late night. 'Zounds, I am working on my masterpiece,' Dexter Palmer yells hoarsely, disturbing the neighbors. He slings a cup half-full of tepid chamomile tea at the wall, where it shatters. 'Dexter's writing a novel,' Astrid says brightly. After a few minutes of introductory cross-talk, the group of five splits into separate conversations: Harold talks with his sister and Charmaine, while Marlon ends up with Dexter. To Harold, Marlon looks cornered—Harold can't hear what Dexter's saying, but whatever he's talking about, he's clearly going on about it at length and in fine detail. Maybe Marlon is getting to hear all about the novel. Every once in a while Marlon will look at Harold and theatrically roll his eyes and sigh, but Dexter, who's frantically gesticulating, wrapped up in whatever he's chattering about, doesn't notice.

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It’s quite a broad spectrum though, and to be ‘mugged off’ includes being overcharged by a builder for your loft conversion, getting overtaken on the dual carriageway and stretches all the way to being outright murdered.

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As a building company in Bromley, Kent, Connor Building has been supplying building services for over 20 years. We take your construction dreams from home design to planning permission to a new home. Our services include Loft Conversions, Plumbing, Heating, New Boilers, Bathrooms, Roofing, Electrics, Design & Build, Shell Only Build, Property Maintenance, Home Refurbishments, House Extensions, Plastering, Kitchen Extensions, Rendering and Blockwork. Contact Connor Building for a free quote today.

The past is prelude and now we are leaving the restaurant and the fog is rolling out toward the Southern Ocean. When he kisses me, it feels natural, inevitable. It doesn’t feel like a stranger has his mouth on mine; he doesn’t taste old or male or alien. I go to see his cottage, and it is just as he described it in his letters: “I keep my horse riding tack and saddles on wooden brackets mounted on one wall, and there is usually a surfboard leaning in a corner and a wetsuit hanging in the shower. When I added the wooden loft as a bedroom, I forgot to leave space for the staircase; it now has what is essentially a ladder going up the one side. Chickens roost in the chimney’s ash trap and they emerge from their egg-laying speckled grey.” It is a home, but a wild home, cheerful, peculiar—like Pippi Longstocking’s Villa Villekulla, with a horse on the porch in an overgrown garden on the edge of town, where it “stood there ready and waiting for her.” And then what? I move to South Africa? He teaches me to ride horses and I have his baby? I become a foreign correspondent! I start a whole new life, a life I never saw coming. Either that, or I am isolated and miserable, I’ve destroyed my career, and I spend my days gathering sooty chicken eggs. A different fantasy: I fly to Cape Town. It is not as I remember it. It’s just a place, not another state of being. I am panicky and agitated. I cry without warning, and once I start, I can’t stop. It is not at all clear that my story will work out. Now I have lost my powers in that department, too. Dr. John and I make a plan to meet. But in this fantasy, I arrive at the restaurant and find it intimidating and confusing: I don’t know if I’m supposed to wait to be seated and I can’t get anyone’s attention. I’m afraid of being rude, wrong, American. When John arrives he is a stranger. I don’t know him and I don’t really like him, or worse, I can tell that he doesn’t like me. Our conversation is stilted. I know (and he suspects) that I have come all this way for an encounter that isn’t worth having, and a story that isn’t worth telling, at least not by me. I have made myself ridiculous. My losing streak continues.

When you are thinking of having some work done on your house, you want to work with an experienced, reliable company that can bring your vision to life with polish, precision and professionalism. That applies whether you need an extension, loft conversion, refurbishment or just a roof replacement. P Hodson Roofing & Building Ltd is that company. We'll be delighted to talk to you when you need a project carried out by a business you can trust.

We specialise in building extensions and loft conversions and have a great deal of experience in making your house the home of your dreams. When you require builders for an extension, renovation or the development of your property, you only need make one call to us and our experts will work with you to make it all become a reality. Our highly skilled and experienced team will work closely with you throughout the whole process to make the project as hassle-free and enjoyable as we possibly can.

Today, one marvels at the conversions of old buildings that are now offices and and residences or both. Office buildings are apartment houses, mansions are office buildings, manufacturing lofts are apartments, tenement apartments are small factories, everything from a barge to a barn is a restaurant...These buildings were not designed with flexibility in mind, but their manageable scale provided inherent adjustability and their design and quality constriction provided inherent appeal.

The house had probably cost a couple of million quid, with its two stories plus loft conversion, red brick, and detailing on the porch roof that hinted at Arts and Crafts without actually making it over the finishing line. It was at least mercifully free of pebble-dash and fake half-timbering. They’d retained the original sash windows but installed the venetian blinds that have replaced net curtains as the genteel response to sharing your neighborhood with other human beings.