I think a lot about architecture. It is to me what selective television watching is to others (though I do this too): it can be everywhere and there’s enough variety to keep you interested your entire life. I’ve felt this appreciation for heritage for about ten years now, and it has become central to my outlook.  I’ll always be interested.

In this new beginning that is the academic year I’ve had a fairly significant change of opinion in terms of the acceptability of reorienting historic buildings to fulfil modern demands. While pondering the matters of architecture’s heritage and future this summer I increasingly found myself accepting modernisation on ever greater commercial grounds. Thus I thought it a worthy event to record: I’m likely to revert, I can sense it.

To conserve and preserve historic architecture through modernising renovation I always believed was ever so ironic, ever so compromising, and, consequently, barbaric. Modernism was interfering, taking its fashionably short shelf-life and destroying the preserved stock of a nation’s history, that which we had enjoyed accumulating over many, many centuries. How could installing en-suite bathrooms into perfectly proportioned rooms or installing passenger lifts to the tallest of townhouses preserve those delicate fabrics and the integrity of the structures? The original article would never be enough, it could never survive whilst there was money to be made in improving the saleability of a property, that achieved through seriously compromising it. I simply didn’t believe traditional craftsmanship had survived, not a hard assumption to make in today’s high demand, hi-tech environment.  As it turns out, I was wrong.

This belief constituted my pessimistic view of the consuming thrust of modernising, that what great stores of culture we had created and protected were being quickly and thoughtlessly snubbed out of existence by a few architects and renovators looking for a higher cash yield.  I still believe this, to be fair, but am now giving these renovators a chance, an opportunity to demonstrate the sustainability and sensitivities of their work. For the mean while I’m stating that historic sensitivity and appropriateness are vital, while simultaneously conceding the inevitability of modern renovation.  I’ve moved on remember. Modernisation may happen to an older property still in use, but the fabric, appearance, historic components and integrity must be maintained when this happens.  To simply modernise a property with little regard for its history or cultural significance is equal to architectural massacre.

The below examples helped shaped this very recent opinion change of mine, demonstrating the impatience of a nation for convenient heritage and their eagerness to reinvent. For the moment, I’m very much with them.

There really can’t be a better example of this new philosophy in action than the grade II listed Manor Farm in Hampstead, North London (photo above). Built by architect Basil Champney in 1881, it typifies the best of the Victorian ‘country house’ era that ran from the 1830s to just after 1900. Its symmetrical, tall, red-brick exterior, steep pitched roofs and large gardens have been preserved but they have proven perfect for 20th and 21st century modernisers.

In this case, two staff flats have been added, along with an indoor pool complex, tennis court and pavilion. What makes the property still more special is almost an acre of secluded grounds with a pond, pergola walk and hidden waterfall. It’s now on sale through Savills Hampstead.

Elsewhere in Hampstead lies another example of renovation. It’s a home from the 1714-1830 Georgian era characterised by elegant multi-storey houses with highly formal entrances and scores of sash windows, the most famous architectural feature of this period. Romney’s House was built in 1796 and, thanks to its many uses over two centuries, it is one of Hampstead’s most celebrated properties. Again its been sensitively modernised and linked to a nearby cottage, affording extra accommodation.

Away from London there are perhaps still more breathtaking examples of modernised classical house designs. A house for sale in Bath is one of the countries’ finest examples of a terraced Georgian townhouse, this one built by 18th century architect John Wood.  Outside it remains a classic, heavily-pillared house with ‘nine-over-nine’ and ‘six-over-six’ window panes, stone and render facades and well-proportioned railings. Inside, where oak and mahogany wood panelling and stern pigments of burgundy would have originally been placed, there are now contemporary bathrooms and kitchens using Jerusalem gold stone, French limestone, stainless steel and glass.

These properties are all perfect examples of how period buildings may be listed and so prevented from suffering damaging structural change, using a style of modernisation known as ‘retrofitting’. This allows 21st century features like remote-control audio, heating systems and security equipment to be fitted, often by burying control boxes and wiring in walls and carefully reinstating the finish.

The examples that inspired my change of view really demonstrated strongly to me that modernisation, while it’s invariably harmful to the original structure, needn’t necessarily involve wantonly gutting a house.  It’s not that I‘ve accepted renovation by any means or for any ends, I’ve just decided that in the right hands this is acceptable.  There are those who go too far, physically destroying what we term heritage, a nation’s dying stock. City bankers may dream of cleaner lines in their Notting Hill townhouses, most likely initiated by magazine-led articles read by their children’s yummy-mummies. This is stupid practice, but it’s heartening to see it’s not the only approach to modernity.