There is a tricky balance when doing a refurbishment of an old house that throws up several dilemmas. This time around we are doing it on a more modern building than we’ve ever had before and we are keen to keep a mid-century feel while making it comfortable for 21st century life.

We know a great deal about the house’s history because we have been able to glean loads of useful information from the daughter of the house’s only previous owners. Yep, the house is second-hand…literally. She told us about the beautiful stained glass that was stripped out when double glazing was installed, the parquet flooring that came up when the extravagantly floral hall carpet was laid (yes, it really is gone, not just covered up) and the English Rose kitchen that was ripped out and sold to make way for Homebase mediocrity. All of these things feel like the actions of charlatans although I’m sure the house’s only previous owner had good reason for making the choices she did.

Our plan is to add back some stained glass – we have some panels made for us by the wonderful Gail Davison for our wedding that we never got round to installing in our Minions home that will be built into internal doors when we have finished making a mess, we will reinstate wood flooring in the hall and we have just bought a single English Rose unit as a focal point for the new kitchen. It was bought, at an eye-popping price, from the country’s leading specialist at restoring the units to their former glory. We certainly couldn’t afford to fit the whole kitchen out with it.

It’s been delivered today and has already been pressed into use in the makeshift kitchen that currently exists on and around our dining table. To describe it as a thing of great beauty is no exaggeration and I’d go further and say it’s also supremely practical given its great age.

Mostly though, I’m transfixed by its history. It’s made from aluminium and comes from a factory that had spent the war making Spitfires using the same machinery and methods. When the Spitfires were no longer needed, the factory changed use and English Rose was born. I’d like to think some of the aluminium from the defunct Spitfires might have made it back to the factory and into my cabinet. That’d be really something.