Seaside bunker built to withstand the elements
This house is a perfect writer’s retreat, writes Ann Packer.
Catherine Robertson used to look down on her Fort Dorset house – literally, that is, not metaphorically. The novelist and her family lived on the Seatoun Heights hillside for six years before heading for San Francisco – the setting for her new book, The Not So Perfect Life of Mo Lawrence – and Britain in 2000. When they returned after three years overseas, the notion of living closer to the harbour appealed, says the Wellington-born and bred author, who in her other life coowns communications and management consultancy Eleven, with her husband David.
What they’ve ended up with is an uninterrupted sweep of harbour view – not from the ground floor of the duplex designed by architect Simon Novak (who lives in the adjoining unit), but from upstairs. Looking out over the sea towards Steeple Rock, through floor-to-ceiling glass, the expansive master bedroom has become a retreat where the author writes three days a week, surrounded by books on specially strengthened shelves.
‘‘Being down here on the flat you notice so much more of what’s going on out on the harbour, from orca and seals to boats,’’ says Robertson, who has just delivered the manuscript of her third novel to Random House. ‘‘It’s a different perspective . . . like being on the prow of a ship.’’
This coast may well be the windiest place in Wellington – in the first big blow after the family moved in, their trampoline took off over two sections. But most rooms open on to a sheltered internal courtyard, revamped by landscape designer Veronika Alkema to make it more functional. Large enough for entertaining, it gets the sun quite late.
At the other end of the long narrow house, separated by a gallery opening on to the courtyard, sons Callum – who writes graphic novels between university lectures – and Finn, still at college, each have a room. With a separate bathroom and laundry, this wing is ‘‘all specced up for a granny flat,’’ says Robertson.
‘‘Everything’s been really well thought out, with loving care and attention to detail. It’s built like a bunker. Everything’s double-glazed and the windows are really well sealed. It’s built for the elements and completely solid.’’
It’s so quiet inside that when a house was being built next door there was no construction noise as long as windows were kept closed.
Though the Robertsons are the third owners, they’ve made cosmetic changes only inside, including painting a wall in the entrance foyer bright orange to show off a collection of black- and-white photographs and prints. David’s racing bike, a 1980s Coppi, adds a dash of bright yellow. Professional art installer Rob Cherry was called in to help place the family’s eclectic art collection, including a large Neil Frazer oil painting at the bottom of the stairs in the living area.
Shelving in the living room is embellished with family memorabilia and smaller art works – ‘‘grown-up bits and stuff that I like’’ – from a Dick Frizzell painting commissioned for an advertisement, to vintage china. Model cars collected by both Robertson and her husband fill an industrial chic French cabinet found in a Greytown antique shop.
In a corner of the adult bedroom, a stack of vintage suitcases storing cycling trophies and medals and children’s toys guards the entry to an elevator installed by previous owners; invaluable for unloading cases and boxes on arrival, it provides endless hours of amusement to visiting children.
All that separates this property from the shore is a barrier of regenerating natives, and beyond that a passing parade of cyclists and walkers on the waterfront trail. No place for cars on the seaward edge of this land, once a military base.
The Robertsons have just had the cedar exterior re-stained, preserving the ‘‘bachy’’ look.
Any regrets? ‘‘Only that there’s no spare bedroom, but that’s because ours is one giant room, with a large bathroom.’’ You can’t have everything.