Landfall ADC

Hayling Island, situated in the midst of the idyllic Chichester Harbour, is a strange place – both beautiful and yet somewhat tawdry. In the early 19th century it had a population just below 600 and perhaps because it did not have a direct train line to London, just a wooden bridge across the channel, it failed to become a seaside resort like many south coast towns. It remained a place of farmers and fishermen.

This changed in the 1930s when an amusement park and two cinemas arrived and a couple of hotels opened for tourists. Today, with some 17,000 inhabitants it feels, for the most part, quite run down with little sign of investment for the future. Shopping streets are perhaps best described as old-fashioned, dominated by tea rooms, estate agents, and fish & chip shops. Holiday (caravan) parks abound. A third of the population is retired. The faint smell of the nostalgic English seaside resort pervades.

And yet in the last 20 years, the houses that face the water have become gentrified and with the beautiful prospect across water, sandy beaches and water sports (windsurfing was invented here), many houses have been rebuilt (my own practice has been responsible for two). Landfall, one of the first rebuilds, is situated at the south-eastern point of the Island looking east across the harbour towards the spire of Chichester Cathedral, sheltered behind Sandy Point and its sailing club.

The house replaced the architect’s mother’s family home, a chalet bungalow built by her parents in the 1930s. Refurbishment was not an economic option and in any event, the Environment Agency (EA) was planning to build sea wall defences against the rising sea levels, so the house was vulnerable to flooding. The Cooks (Paul and Belinda) turned to their architect son Rupert (grandson of the lauded Camden Council Chief architect, Sydney Cook) to design an

energy-efficient, flood-proof and economic house on a strict budget.

Working for your parents must be a scary prospect – what happens if you disagree, if it fails to please, if it blows the budget, if it leaks? But it can work out – I am reminded of the 27-year-old Charles Gwathmey’s design for his artist parents on Long Island, designed before he qualified as an architect, which immediately catapulted him into the limelight and, later, with the publication of the 1972 book Five Architects, to national prominence along with Richard Meier, John Hejduk, Michael Graves and Peter Eisenman. To my mind, Gwathmey never bettered that early little house.

Rupert Cook’s design is perhaps not as inventive as the Long Island house, but it sits on strong foundations – not just the concrete that had to be designed to endure immersion in water for up to 50 years that used Cornish granite as aggregate to satisfy the EA – but also on the principles of sustainability and low-energy use.

Cook’s father was an experienced project manager on construction sites and nearing retirement, and the house was to be his last build. His brief was that it must be economical, quick to build, cheap to run and most of all, he hated wet trades, so no bricks or plaster!

The design was founded on the principles of the German ‘PassivHaus’ standard, one of the earliest houses to pursue this in the UK. To achieve this, Richard Quincey of Gifford engineers was brought in to help create a near PassivHaus hybrid with a ‘solar house’ (such as the ground-breaking Solar House built by Robert and Brenda Vale in 1994) along with structural engineer Mark Lovell, who had just worked with Bill Dunster on BedZed. This meant that solar gains were strictly controlled, energy loads were reduced to a minimum through high levels of insulation, and airtightness was given great attention.

The basis for the design – which had to be built a storey above the ground due to flood risk – was to be a laminated timber frame. Cook cites Kahn’s masterful Korman House

as an inspiration, which organises space around a regular grid of timber (the traditional Japanese houses come to mind too).

Paul took on a small group of Polish builders from a big contractor who lent them out for the build as the world hit the 2008 recession, and he talks of their amazing work ethic of a 7am start, punctuated by brief tea breaks until 5pm.

Demolition of the old house happened in July that year and the house was completed five months later with Paul managing the build and sourcing materials, and Belinda dealing with the paperwork and finances. Paul talks with a twinkle in his eye that reminded me of Harry Enfield and recalls how he sourced materials from all over Europe – the laminated timbers in uncut lengths from a supplier in France (the joints were cut on site with chainsaws and chisels), and triple-glazed windows from a German system housebuilder who made its own windows – even sending an Eddie Stobart truck over to Germany to collect the load. This all seemed very brave and cutting-edge, but Paul took it in his stride as part of achieving what he wanted.

The house has a cubic form arranged on a north-south axis on the site so it sits nicely at an angle to the waterfront and to a small single-story annexe, linked at first floor to the house to form a carport. The annexe sits at a lower level (above the 1:50 year flood risk level, while the house is at 1:200 year level). The play between the two forms animates the composition. It is effectively three-storeys high with an open undercroft (now filled-in) and with a roof deck, so feels very much like a big box, punctured with windows. The south-west corner is given over to a glazed winter garden – a solar buffer space – which almost breaks up the box, but not quite. I yearned for a balcony to be able to step out of the box, but Paul and Belinda are happy in their elevated living floor, with views to all horizons. The whole form is clad in untreated larch which has weathered to a dark grey and will probably last about another 20 years.

The upper floor is open plan, with a grid of stout, square timber columns creating a mini-hypostyle space and life is lived within the grid. Downstairs, five bedrooms are squeezed into this grid, with some columns sitting almost slap bang in the middle of a room, but this brings a kind of charm, rather than an efficient machine for living in.

In November 2008 they moved in – an astonishing four-month build – and took time adjusting to a house with minimal heating. Both experienced sailors, they learnt to run the home like a yacht, being aware of the prevailing winds, location of the sun, trimming windows and blinds, and using the winter garden for pre-warmed air for ventilation in winter and ventilation during hot spells through rooftop rooflights.

15 years later, there is no doubt that the couple fit this house, it is full of their

life with every corner packed with family photos, vases, bric-a-brac, and generations of furniture – it fits them like a glove. The only changes are that the under croft has been infilled to provide storage and utility space, the halogen lighting has now become LEDs, and the bunk beds for the extended family have gone. It feels very much like an architect’s own house, which it is vicariously. The Cooks are ageing gracefully and celebrate the two flights of stairs that ‘keep them fit’ although there is a knock-out panel in the floor of the sun space that allows for the retro fitting of a hydraulic lift should the time come.

And does it perform as the architect intended? There is no data on energy use other than the fact that Paul recalls his electricity bills back in the original house being over £2,000 per year before 2008 (c.£2,800 today), and their current consumption is only £700 a year, so around a quarter of the cost.

There is no doubt that the intention to create a low-energy house (on a budget)

has succeeded, with windows placed for year-round solar efficiency and ventilation, combined with the stack effect ventilation and cooling of the sun space that keeps the ambient temperature of the house warm in winter. With the help of the freestanding wood burning stove with back-burner for hot water that sits in the north corner of the living space, it is comfortable in very cold periods, and a small gas boiler provides heat to the only two radiators in the house. In the summer, the Cooks have become adept at opening and closing windows during the day following the sun and wind, and opening and closing the apertures into the sun space. There are no electronic energy management control systems or complex moving parts –it is hands on, and it works.

In time it will need recladding and who knows, one day the site may actually flood, and if that happens, it will cause no bother. I could not love the Fermacell board ceilings with the squidgy joint filling, but Paul was not going to give in to wet trades – but I still yearn for that outdoor space off the living room to truly engage with the weather. As an edifice, the house looks a little solemn with its dark grey carapace and blunt cubic form, but as a container for life, it is stealthy and efficient, so long as you follow the weather each day. The house has aged, as have its occupants, but both have done so with dignity and grace.