Nigel’s passion for eco building may well have been inherited from his mother who told the architects exactly what she wanted when the family home was constructed at 40 Varndean Gardens. It was completed in 1958 and featured a south-facing rear garden with large windows at the back and small windows at the front. Nigel can recall it being built and has the photos of him on site to prove it.

Walking up Varndean Gardens to see Nigel and his wife Sally was a treat in itself as various trees were in full blossom at the time. No. 40 has been given a radical overhaul by Nigel and Sally with the help of BBM, a Lewes-based firm of sustainable architects, to update its eco credentials and create extra space and a new layout.

The main structural change to the house is the addition of a large bedroom with en-suite bathroom above the garage, which actually protrudes from the front of the house. The entire building has been insulated externally and clad with lengths of finger-jointed coppiced sweet chestnut. The roof features 16 photovoltaic panels to generate electricity and two solar thermal panels to heat water. The guttering and downpipes are galvanised steel and the porch roof is zinc.

The 18mm oak-laminated floors that grace most of the interior have been specifically sourced from France, rather than China, for obvious reasons. The kitchen is from Harvey Jones, a British firm, and the recycled glass Resilica kitchen worktops come specifically from Newhaven. The windows are Velfac and the doors are Sunflex.

Like all good eco houses, this home comes with a gadget room which, in this instance, is the garage. This is where the meters, boiler, tank and controls for the underfloor heating are kept. It is also a hub for the Cat 5 and Cat 6 cables that ensure that the house is future-proofed for some time yet. Logically, the garage door itself is actually insulated.

This year’s Eco Open Houses will be held on 25th-28th October. Perhaps Nigel will consider opening his own eco house this year to inspire others. I hope so.

Precautions against air-raids were certainly made. Blackouts were enforced at night, shelters were dug, and children (and treasures from the museums) were sent to the countryside for safekeeping. Despite the preparations, around 200 people were killed in over 50 bombing raids.

I have been aware for some time that 24-26 Park Crescent were destroyed during one such raid in 1942 and were not in fact rebuilt until 1983. I had no idea though that nine large bombs were dropped on two roads that I have often walked along, Rowan Avenue and Elm Drive in Hangleton, during the raid of 26th August 1940. One person was killed and two others were injured.

Two buildings were destroyed on Rowan Avenue, Nos. 62 and 64, yet the replacement structures which stand in their place today look just like their neighbours. But there are some clues as to their past and these were pointed out to me by one observant estate agent. Simon Francis from Fox & Sons in Hangleton is currently marketing No. 62 on behalf of the family of the original owner – who purchased it for £620 brand new in 1946. Braybon, a well-known local building firm that usually operated in the Withdean area, was responsible for its construction.

The two replacement houses form the northern end of a terrace of six buildings. The older neighbours feature wooden decorative beams yet their counterparts on the new buildings are made of sand and cement, rather than wood. On the ground floor, the bricks are a different colour and above, on the first floor, a small triangular bay window is missing. Vents are located in slightly different positions. None of these is noticeable though.

Although the interior is somewhat dated, there are two features that I really like. The first is a variety of Bakelite switches and handles that are most attractive. The second is a solid fitted 1950s kitchen that most people would turn their noses up at, which I find infinitely preferable to the chipboard equivalents of today. Behind is a generously-proportioned garden with a concrete coal bunker that comes complete with asbestos lid.

See Simon at Fox & Sons to purchase this property for £244,950 – an increase of just 39,408% on its original purchase price.

No. 10 is of course home to the Prime Minister and No. 11 to the Chancellor but a No. 9 and a No. 12 also exist. This is fairly academic though as the buildings now form a single complex within anyway. There were originally around twenty houses and the current No. 10 was in fact No. 5 until a renumbering took place in 1779.

My most recent visit gave me an opportunity to see some of No. 10’s most famous features up-close such as my new friend, Larry, the Downing Street cat. Larry was second to greet me, after the ever-present police officer, and did so from his perch on top of a radiator by the front door. Incidentally, the door has been made of metal since 1991 thanks to the IRA. The original is now in the Churchill War Rooms.

10 Downing Street incorporates what was once a separate mansion, Hampden House, behind. This is easy to understand once inside. One clue is a view, upon entering No. 10, to a pair of double doors some way ahead, at the end of a long corridor. The corridor is far too lengthy to exist within the footprint of the Downing house. The doors, incidentally, lead into the Cabinet Room.

It is at the rear of No. 10, within what was once Hampden House, that many of the best-known rooms are located. That includes the State Dining Room, the Pillared State Drawing Room and the famous staircase with portraits of previous Prime Ministers.

Everything within is to be used too and the building is no stuffy museum. Antique chairs are to be sat on and drawers to be filled. A travel chest by the front door which belonged to the Duke Of Wellington contains all manner of useful objects including Brasso, Blu Tack and a doorstop.

What I like most about 10 Downing Street is the contrast between its functions as a historic edifice and a working office. Behind some doors are rows of busy workers. Behind another is, of course, the Prime Minister’s flat. But expecting to find a glorious state room behind one particularly intriguing curved door, I found Henry the Hoover.

The church was replaced with an octagon-themed dystopian office block, Queen Square House. Rows of trees have been swapped for rows of scruffy workers on smoking breaks. An open road has been replaced with a taxi rank. The time has now come to replace Queen Square’s derelict ice rink.

I recently wrote about the objections of the residents of nearby Wykeham Terrace to plans by Conran & Partners for a six-storey hotel on the ice rink site. The proposals have since been revised but Wykeham residents along with various amenity societies, including the Montpelier & Clifton Hill Association and the St Nicholas Green Spaces Association, are still in opposition on the grounds of height and impact on historic surroundings.

My own view is that five principal storeys are entirely appropriate as this matches the neighbouring buildings on Queen Square. The inclusion of an extra roof storey, as proposed, does not particularly worry me either. I was initially concerned by the planned destruction of a neighbouring building, 11 Queen Square, so that it can be rebuilt in a not too dissimilar style but taller. This is a wise move as No. 11 currently looks too low. It is sensible too that the west side of the proposed hotel at roof level follows the building line of the adjoining structures.

As plans progressed, there was talk of access from Queen Square to St Nicholas’ Churchyard behind being included. This idea proved unpopular though and may well have meant the excavation of several graves. There were also concerns raised about the general impact of the hotel on the churchyard. I am inclined to support the applicants here as such historic environments should be shared as much as possible – even if this only means views from the hotel towards the church in this instance.

My own objections relate principally to the treatment of Queen Square itself. To squeeze in five principal storeys at the height of the neighbouring houses, a large chunk of sloping land at the top of the hill would have to be flattened. The excavation work would be so extensive that several buildings on the west side of Queen Square would be left floating higher than road level.

It is no dystopia but it could still be much improved.

When Hove Civic Society was created in 1960 in response to one particularly inappropriate planning application, it is unlikely that its founders would have predicted the degree of pro-activity that is underway today through the direction of its current Chairman, Helmut Lusser.

An intriguing article appeared in The Argus recently that detailed a warm spot of sea around Shoreham Power Station’s cooling water outlet that had been discovered by the Honorary Secretary of Hove Civic Society, John Kapp. Rather than just enjoy the tropical temperatures for himself, the former engineer put forward an ambitious proposal to benefit the whole city.

The general principal behind combined heat and power (CHP) is the capture of wasted heat from a power station as a means to heat nearby areas. In a local context, and under the Hove Civic proposals, CHP concerns the use of Shoreham Power Station as both a source of electricity and a source of heat for the people of Brighton & Hove.

The incredible scheme would see hot water pumped away from the power station, all around the city, to heat over 100,000 homes. This would involve the installation of pipes beneath the streets of Brighton & Hove, similar to the way in which pipes for sewerage and water, along with cables for electricity, are installed as a matter of course.

The benefits are obvious. Boilers for central heating would become a thing of the past, and heating would be cheaper. But there are inescapable drawbacks though as well. The initial cost of such a project would be huge. Figures of over £2 billion have been put forward. The disruption would be massive too. Every street would need to be excavated and many listed buildings would need to be modified. Nevertheless, a debate must be had.

Sewers were constructed in Brighton from 1792; water pipes were added from 1834; and electricity was supplied from 1882. It would be interesting to think what the objections to these projects were at their respective times of conception. In each case, it would have been left to the pioneers of the day to progress matters.

I wish the Hove Civic Society the best of luck in its exciting endeavours.

After having designed St Barnabus Church nearby, and Truro Cathedral before that, John Pearson’s plans for a great church for Hove were approved in 1887 and its foundation stone laid in 1889. The Sussex sandstone that was used is both enchanting and, like that which was used on Lancing College Chapel, fragile. It has not lasted well.

All Saints is famous for its cavernous nave and intricate stonework but I wanted to see what is hidden out of sight. I had heard rumours of an unfinished tower and, in investigating this, I came across a series of intriguing concealed staircases and walkways that go unseen by those who regularly use the building.

At the west end of the south aisle, a rather inconspicuous locked door leads to a dusty and dark stone spiral staircase. A short climb takes keen explorers up to a platform-like level where a central panel can be removed to reveal a hole to provide dizzying views of the floor below. Though not obvious from inside, this portion of the building is the base of what was to be a bell tower. The hole was intended for bell ropes.

The next clue is a second spiral staircase that goes from the platform to, well, nowhere. It rises to roof level and then abruptly stops. A sharp drop awaits unwary climbers. The bell rope hole, the unfinished staircase and the stub of a roof outside are all reminders of the grand plans for a tower that were abandoned during the 1930s through lack of funds.

Several small wooden doors lead to all sorts of obscure nooks and crannies on the exterior of the building that maybe I would be quite unique in finding fascinating. I am not so sure though. Most people are intrigued to hear about the parts of buildings that are not immediately accessible. The best at All Saints may well be the gallery within the upper regions of the interior that gives unique views over the chancel and nave below.

My thanks goes to Father Phil and his team for the excellent tours.

In conjunction with developer Colin Brace and architect Alan Phillips, Dunster has been working on an equally exciting scheme to bring hardcore eco construction to Hove. After a well-publicised and long-running planning battle, “PortZED”, was refused permission earlier this month. The proposal consisted of a series of six blocks of five-storeys on Kingsway (more storeys if measured from Basin Road North in Shoreham Port below).

Aesthetically, I do rather like PortZED but I do take the point that it is far too domineering in its current state. Worries about height and bulk can at least now be tackled by Colin and his team. As a Dunster scheme, it is no surprise that there are eco features aplenty. Most interestingly of these are the sets of helical wind turbines that are mounted between the buildings. The turbines can take full advantage of the city’s south-westerly wind due to the orientation of the blocks. Each faces the south-west in the way that a plane’s wing cuts through the skies ahead.

During the planning process, I have been somewhat fixated by what is going on between the proposed blocks; not so much because I am taken by the turbines, but more because I am adamant that views must be preserved. In this case, turning the buildings to the south-west reduces the precious views from Kingsway.

If I had to make a choice, I would pick a tall scheme with gaps over a low terraced scheme. After all, the low buildings to the east of the site offer no views whatsoever. As such, I will be campaigning for more to be made of the gaps between the blocks, which would involve removing clutter, but also for gaps to be left at either end of the site.

All things considered, it was correct of Brighton & Hove City Council to reject this application as it has some way to go before it is a development of which everybody – particularly those living nearby – can be proud. I have every confidence that the necessary adjustments will now be made to make this a reality.

The Grade II listed Pepper Pot is thought to have been built as the water tower for a wonderful house of 1830, known as the Attree Villa, that was destroyed in 1972 in what was one of the worst architectural crimes in local history. After years of neglect, and a rather unpleasant peach/thistle paint-job, the Pepper Pot’s fortunes changed when a council grant of £70,000 was pumped into its restoration.

The tour that I was given by Alex Sutton-Vane from volunteer group Friends of the Pepper Pot was a most unexpected eye-opener. The ground floor is reached via a door in the structure’s octagonal base. A rickety ladder leads to a mezzanine level and then another to the first floor. By the second floor, it is clear that the upper portions of the building are decagonal, rather than octagonal, which is easily verified externally by a quick count of the building’s Corinthian pillars. The second floor is flooded with light from its ten windows but the real treat is the third floor where a brick dome and incredible panoramic views from a set of tiny square windows delight.

When Brighton Corporation took ownership of the Pepper Pot in 1892, it was used for storage and then as a public toilet, a base for air raid wardens, a Scout hut and an artists’ studio. Rather bizarrely, a non-original cast iron sewer vent runs through its centre.

The restoration has raised all sorts of interesting questions about the Pepper Pot’s past. My old Regency Society friends Neil England and Nick Tyson have spent hours researching the origins of the large blocks from which the curious folly is constructed. The peculiar material turned out to be an early form of artificial stone called Ranger’s Lime Concrete which was developed by William Ranger.

The young girl who wanted a helter-skelter put across her views during an incredible light show by Shared Space and Light that took place during White Night last year, after the scaffolding had come down. The options for future uses are still very much open.

See www.pepperpot.info for a video of the show that has to be seen to be believed.

The car park, said to have once been home to Vine’s Mill, was sold off as part of the hospital redevelopment and came into the charge of River Oaks Homes in 2008, one year after that firm bought the three Italianate villas to the west, Nos. 5, 6 and 7 Powis Villas.

Regular readers should know that I am a huge fan of ‘planning briefs’ – plans that set out a general framework for the development of a sensitive site. Difficulties at so many sites locally, including that of the Royal Alex itself, could have been nipped in the bud if the council had taken the trouble to pro-actively put in place planning briefs to set out exactly what should be built. Whether it be Brighton Marina, the Queen Square ice rink or Shoreham Harbour, without a planning brief in each case, developers have upset residents by proposing something inappropriate.

In the case of the car park, the developer has got the general principle exactly right without such heavy-handed persuasion being necessary. Rather than more higgledy-piggledy blocks of flats, like those under construction on the hospital site across the road, the car park is now home to five incredible houses. Three face Clifton Hill and two face Powis Grove, just like they would have done if they had been built in the 1850s like their neighbours. The local architectural practice Morgan Carn did not resort to pastiche though – or ‘fake old buildings’ as I like to call such dreary creations – but instead have built the modern equivalent of an Italianate Victorian villa.

White render and grey roofs, whose colours may be attributed to dirt-repelling paint and zinc cladding respectively, may be seen as nods to the past but there are many explicitly modern features as well such as solar thermal panels, underfloor heating, instant boiling water taps and a shared underground car park.

River Oaks Homes has produced its own glossy brochures that describe how incredible these four-storey three-bedroom homes, named The Cliftons, really are. These sleek houses should be seen in the flesh though, particularly by other developers, to be truly appreciated.

The truth is that there is a connection but the link is the Old Town. Laines were the fields that once surrounded Brighton and there were five of them – North Laine, West Laine, East Laine, Hilly Laine and Little Laine. We now call the Brighton of that time ‘the Old Town’, the centrepiece of which is now called ‘the Lanes’ on account of the various alleyways that characterise the spot.

When I wrote to the Argus newspaper in August last year about Brighton & Hove City Council itself getting the laine/lane question wrong, I had no idea that it would lead to the mobilisation of the Brighton Society to set the record straight.

Four narrow passageways lead from the west side of Bond Street in the North Laine area. The first and second are called Bond Street Row and Bond Street Cottages respectively; and the third is called, technically anyway, Bond Street Laine. ‘Laine’ should not have been used as the narrow thoroughfare is a ‘lane’, not a field. It should be ‘Bond Street Lane’. I wasn’t the first to spot the error.

Eagle-eyed Brighton Society campaigner Delia Ives approached the council in 2008 and succeeded in getting the physical road sign corrected. As the official name remained the same though, it was only a matter of time before the road sign was changed back to ‘Laine’. This is what I saw.

Following my letter, Delia took up the case again. After winning the battle previously, she set out to win the war by persuading the council to change the alley’s name properly. Whilst a wrong will be righted once Bond Street Laine becomes Bond Street Lane, the council should have known better.

I mentioned earlier four alleys and the names of just three. Just as my letter led to the renaming of the third passageway, I hope that this column will plant an idea for the naming of the forgotten fourth. Bond Street Twittern, to make use of another old Sussex word, would get my vote.