A tiny Cotswold barn filled with treasures by Christopher Howe
You would be hard pressed to find a more idyllic setting for a bolt-hole than a wildflower meadow in Gloucestershire complete with a babbling brook, grazing sheep and a resident horse. Nestled on the edge of one such field is a tawny-coloured stone barn; it is a tiny thing comprising a sitting room, kitchen, bedroom and bathroom with two large glass doors opening to reveal its cross section, like an oversize rural doll's house.
Peer inside and you might think the house had looked this way forever, which, of course, is the point. There is a mishmash of furniture from across the centuries, timber-clad walls, oak floors and hefty stone slabs in the kitchen. But this is not the product of years of wear and tear and accumulated chattels; quite the opposite, for this diminutive house was put together in eight-and-a-half weeks by the antique dealer and furniture designer, Christopher Howe.
Christopher was helping the owners with their house in Bray, Berkshire - a supposedly small project that had escalated into something rather larger than expected. Christmas was looming, a baby was on the way and it was becoming increasingly apparent that they were going to have to move to make way for the builders. They spotted the barn on a property website and, spurred on by mounting time pressures, bought it almost immediately in October 2014. And so, with just over two months to spare before the self-imposed deadline of December 25, work began.
A team of builders from Bull Construction in Derbyshire took up residence in a local B&B and set about gutting the entire house. The layout remained much as it had been, with a staircase providing a central fulcrum and bisecting the four rooms. In the kitchen, Plain English cabinets contribute to the distinctly cottagey feel and an eighteenth-century Norwegian dresser fits so perfectly it might have been made for the space.
Christopher has a tale to tell about each piece of furniture. There's the kitchen stool he bought from a reluctant vendor at a Santa Monica flea market; the geometric artwork made by a British prisoner of war; and the painting of Thomas Cromwell found in the bric-a-brac shop in the village post office. The Murano light above the nineteenth-century folding bed once illuminated Jean Paul Getty while he ate his breakfast at Sutton Place, and Christopher bought the faux rock-crystal light that is outside the bathroom 25 years ago. 'It's such a dated old thing that I've always loved, but it never found its way off the shelf,' he says 'I knew it was just waiting to find the perfect spot in the right humble dwelling.'
Christopher's choices were driven by the notion that the barn should look as if it was lived in by someone working on the local estate. 'I like the idea that the furniture could have been begged and borrowed from the big house,' he explains. 'The truth is, the owners have had the benefit of 40 years of my hoarding.' The effect is a pleasingly unpretentious mix of well-designed objects that bear the scuffs and bruises of a well-lived life.
When the builders laid the smart new oak floor in the sitting room, they swiftly covered it up with protective plastic, only for Christopher to insist that they take it off, keep their muddy boots on, bring in their wheelbarrows and trample all over it. 'There's no point being precious,' he says.
There can be few greater pleasures than flinging open the doors when the meadow is in flower. In fact, Christopher found a pair of antique binoculars so the owners can watch the birds from their bed. He has transformed the space with gusto, imagination and sensitivity; his enthusiasm, insouciant attitude and creative use of old pieces has instilled the barn with an enchanting timelessness entirely appropriate for its bucolic surroundings