I was six years old when I moved from a comfortable, Edwardian semi into what looked like an abandoned, haunted house in Wiltshire. It had been left empty and unloved for years but my parents decided it was the house for them – and their three children under the age of seven.

I clearly remember the damp smell, the thick, dust-filled air, the hideous patterned carpets which were matted with dog hair, the overgrown garden – and the huge spiders. There were bats living in the outhouse and a family of mice under the stairs, and for a while, we could see the sky through the eaves when we lay in our beds at night. Unsurprisingly, it was absolutely freezing. So cold, in fact, that my mother had a bout of pneumonia not long after we moved in.

Our house was in various stages of renovation throughout my childhood, with my parents undertaking the majority of the work themselves as and when they could afford it. Despite the obvious stresses and strains, it’s actually quite fun to live in a building site as a child – there were times when we had to use a ladder instead of stairs (which even the cat got the hang of) and countless holes in floors we had to avoid. There was no need to decorate for a Halloween party, thanks to the huge cobwebs, holey spiral staircase and creaky floorboards.

I was 16 when we eventually got carpet and central heating, and the house was finally finished shortly before I went off to university. But I still saw it as my home for a number of years. It was a beautiful house and I was so proud of what my parents had achieved.

Just over two years ago, my parents decided they were going to sell. For some reason, I thought that house would always be the place I called home, and at first, I couldn’t understand why they wanted to move away from the place they had put so much time, energy and love into. To make matters worse, they didn’t yet know where they were going so they made preparations to put their belongings into storage before moving into a holiday let nearby.

After an anxious few months, they finally found their new home in Somerset. Far from downsizing, they took on an even bigger project and have since converted two barns into holiday cottages, again doing the majority of work themselves. The first thing I did when I visited was pick ‘my room’, despite having not lived at home for years. The move has definitely been right for them and they couldn’t be happier in their new village.

Knowing the stresses and strains of living in a building site, you’d think my siblings and I would run a mile from a ‘fixer upper’. But quite the opposite: my father’s advice to buy ‘the worst house on the best street’ stuck.

A couple of years ago, my younger brother bought a run-down house in need of complete renovation, and next week I'm moving into a 1970s time warp, complete with pink bathroom suite and fluffy purple carpet...

HA, Wiltshire

Further information

What makes a house a home and why does it matter so much? Our new series, 'Moving Stories', inspired by Savills new advertising campaign, explores the complex relationship between home and home-owner with funny, sad and bittersweet reflections on moving out, moving in and moving on.

We invite you to submit your own Moving Stories and we will donate £50 to Dreams Come True for every one we publish on Savills UK Blog. We'll also make a donation for every story submitted for consideration.