12/17/2025
We bought our turn-of-the-20th-century semi-detached house in a south west London suburb seven years ago from a lovely couple who decided to move to the country, keep chickens and brew beer.
Let’s call them Bill and Margaret.
Bill was a former engineer and kept the house tip top, clearly completing every job, upgrade and repair himself. Carpentry, wiring, plumbing, decorating, mending, I don’t think Bill paid a single penny to a professional or otherwise to do something he could either do, or would have a crack at, himself. Admirable. And a dying art form.
Since then we’ve completed a modest extension, adding an extra bedroom, bathroom and open-plan living area.
Every step of the way we’ve encountered what we refer to as a “Billism”. A completely nonsensical but perfectly operational setup to get the job done. Totally futile pipework leading to nowhere, a boiler/Megaflo arrangement that somehow works but perplexes our plumbers to this day, a built-in wardobe that looks completely unsymmetrical but, by measurement, is bang on.
We love finding these Billisms - they’re part of the fabric and history of the house.
Yesterday, after clearing a cupboard under the stairs, we found this. Clearly a lost Billism but for what purpose?
