Historical home may be moved to make way for medical complex …
However, he believes the city created frustrating and cost-prohibitive restoration requirements that led him to believe officials had other plans for the house and land and never intended to sell it. At the time Mayor Joseph Peterson … City officials now hope to move the Victorian house using Tax Increment Finance Authority funds, and with help and cooperation from the Wyandotte Community Alliance and input from the Historical Commission. A site has not been identified. … read more…
Victorian Garden Elements at Brodie Castle, NTS: 18th Century …
The smokeless coal used for heating the greenhouses, delivered from Brodie Castle Station nearby, was shovelled through a small hole still visible in the east wall of the garden not far from the gardener’s house. … Leslie Forbes, the last gardener in charge of the walled garden before its commercial use ended in the late 1950s, has drawn a detailed plan of what grew there in his time, naming the individual varieties of fruit trees and shrubs grown against the walls and … read more…
New plans mean end for historic lakeside house – Portsmouth Today
Southsea Town Councillor Mike Lowery said: ‘It’s better than previous plans, but it’s a pastiche. Why build a fake Victorian house when there’s a real one there already? ‘This should never have been allowed to happen. … read more…
From Google Blog Search
Great House Design: Letting Everyone Create Their Custom Home Plan With Ease
Great House Design allows every one of its clients the opportunity to make their unique vision part of their everyday reality with access to its professional custom home planning services. The company… read more…
Great House Design Gives Every Client Access to Their Own Custom Home Designer
Access to a custom home designer has never been more convenient or affordable than it is through Great House Design and its team of professionals. By giving its clients unprecedented access to world-c… read more…
Bird Houses Spread Awareness in Birding
Bird houses excite home owners across the country. Try asking neighbors, in-laws, co-workers, and acquaintances if they are interested in wild birds and bird feeders, before expressing your own fee… read more…
From GoArticles.com
Open Question: 2 1/2 inch internal wall?!!! Is that possible?
I am drawing up plans for a Victorian terrace house – and while everything in the drawings so far seems to make sense, there is one part where a section of wall runs between a stairwell and a sitting room for a bit, before then running into a load-bearing external wall along the same plane. The trouble is that the internal part of the wall appears on my drawing to be no thicker that 2 1/2 inches!! Is that actually possible with Victorian internal walls – even non load-bearing?!
In response to billrussell24, the drawings I am making are of the existing – I didn’t propose a 2.5 inch thick wall and it wouldn’t be allowed anyway. By Victorian, I mean actually 1890s with load-bearing solid brick walls! I am just questioning whether it is actually possible for an old house to have used such a thin wall construction indoors. On the other hand, I could have made a terrible mistake somewhere in the plans – but I can’t seem to find any errors comparing with the data I got in the survey…
Resolved Question: I Need Doll House Plans.?
Im looking to build a dolls house, but i need some plans to do so… does anyone know of some websites where i can obtain free dolls house plans, or a website where i can obtain cheap dolls house plans… prefably Victorian style, or older.
Resolved Question: what do you think of my story so far?
im writing a story about a girl who is orphaned in ireland and grows up in an orphanage and then when she is 10-13 she brakes out and goes to newyork. It’s set in the 1960’s and she is orphaned by her and her parents going to have a picnic in Ireland when their car catches alight and her parents die. She is found by nun’s and taken to the orphanage where she grows up.
Constructive comments please
Chapter 1-Getting Started
On the 14th of June 1960, I was still in London, I still had a family, and I had just been born. My name is Rose Philips and this is the tragic, heart-warming and inspiring story of my childhood and it all starts with a book my mother saw in a shop.
On the 17th of June 1960, a few days after I had been born my mother had not been out since I was born because of a sickness she had after the birth. She got round it alright despite the odds and had planned a shopping trip for just me and her. She dressed me in a white cotton dress she had borrowed from her sister a few months before I was born. It had small pearl buttons and a silk white bow just underneath my head. She dressed it with white cotton socks which had a small bow like the one on my dress. She put me in a navy blue pram with large metal wheels that sometimes squeaked as the pram went along. Her sister, or my aunty, had made money after marrying a hire to a wealthy family. My mother wasn’t very prepared for me, so when I did come along she had hardly any clothes or food for me and my father spent most of his spare time trying to make a living out of the money he got.
We lived all together in a two story terrace house south-east of London. It had beige brick walls which had become black with dirt over the years. It had four white windows and a basement that it had a tiny front garden with a black metal fence going along connecting us to the couple who lived next door. They were called the Wallington’s and had been friends with my parents through collage. My father and Mr. Wallington shared a dorm together as did my mother and Miss Chairing, as she was called back then. They met when Mr. Wallington and Miss Chairing bumped into each other, literally. Miss Chairing was on her way to the library, carrying a high stack of papers and books when she walked into Mr. Wallington and all her books went to the ground and the paper were thrown into the air. They slowly fell down around them. Looking more like confetti or petals rather than paper. As they looked into each other’s eyes, that’s when then they knew. As for my parents they met when Mr Wallington and Miss Chairing had a date where they bring along someone who would get to know the other person and those people were my parents.
As soon as I and mother were dressed we set off. It was a hot sunny day, the kind of day you walk outside and love the feeling of the sun’s rays on your skin and think that nothing could go wrong. We started going down our road down until we reached the local corner shop to pick up the paper for my father when he got home from work. The shop was just one long corridor that at the front had the newspapers and magazines. Opposite was the till and sweets of nearly every kind you could think of. Further down were the more fresh things such as fruit and vegetables and at the end were the eggs, bread, cakes, pasta and many things like that.
As soon as we brought the newspaper were on our way to central London, passing the many rows of houses like ours, some better, and some worse. We passed many elderly woman on the way who tried to talk to me in the strange baby language that woman seem to try but knowing that we are never going to reply.
Once we got closer to the city we took the tube into the shops and started looking though shop windows at the beautiful, impossible luxury’s that we could never have. We passed a small bookshop just on the end of a street. It had a wooden body that had been painted dark green. The paint had started peeling off which made the sign on the top hard to read. It had large windows which you could see stacks of books piled up against them. My mother looked up to read the sign “Le livre maison” which was written in gold paint and was in French. In English it read “The book house” which in some way seemed mysterious and exiting. My mother opened the shop door with caution and push the pram in though the door and put me to one side. The only sound was the sound of the bell above the door and her footsteps. She walked slowly towards a narrow shelf were there were rows and rows of books that had cobwebs and spiders on. They looked very old; the sort of thing you would think looked in that old Victorian style. She continued down the shelves and it became more cold and dark when something caught her eye.
It was a large piece of dark wood carved into it the words “Tourner le dos, une fois de plus et de trouver votre chemin d’accès et de fin” which was written in gold and in French like the sign on the outside of the shop. She studied
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