The £1,000 phone call that saved our dream kitchen

Strategist and content creator Francesca Swan is one of Ideal Home's new Open House contributors, sharing her thoughts on the concept of 'Everything' and what makes a home special to you. See the rest of her articles here.

In the ongoing spirit of sharing the whole, unfiltered, unvarnished truth about our renovation experiences – the good, the bad and the downright ugly – please find for your entertainment, and possibly education, what I’ve pithily titled “The Curse of the Kitchen Marble”.

A word of caution. This is a bit of a horror story, but *spoiler alert* there is a happy ending.

I have news…After nine months of mind-bending stress, the kitchen is FINALLY finished and I’m very happy to report I love it beyond actual words.

We now have a beautiful Rosso Levanto marble counter with double bullnose edge, flowing into a two-thirds height splashback before finishing in Antico marble all the way to the ceiling, framing the window.

Of course, we also have cabinets and appliances and they’re great. But to be honest, I just see the marble. Which is the point.

We absolutely adore it. Now. For a long time, though, we genuinely thought the kitchen marble was cursed.

Of every bump and ruinously expensive pothole in the road of this renovation – and there’s a been a LOT – the marble has undoubtedly caused the most problems and delays. At times it was genuinely a bit scary, not to mention deeply stressful and very upsetting.

Several people, my other half and our lovely contractor included, questioned (more than once), whether it was really worth it? Shouldn’t we just choose something else?

Categorically not. Thank you. Next question.

I have a REAL thing for marble. It’s a true Everything material for me, never failing to stop me in my tracks and fill me with joy. I'd set my heart on flooding this kitchen with it from the very start and once I have an idea in my head, there is simply no talking me out of it.

Sure, I questioned my sanity more than once but never questioned the marble. Now it’s finished, I know it was the right decision.

But it came at a steep cost, in more ways than one.

Why a marble kitchen was always Everything to me

Beautiful kitchens don’t begin with cabinets. As with any room for me, they begin with one Everything decision: an emotional and creative anchor from which the design takes shape.

The marble.

Years earlier, I’d obsessed over a sublime double bullnose detail in a restaurant and locked it in my Everything inspiration box. This led to the idea of a double-depth worktop and dramatic full-height splashback, using two contrasting marbles.

My instinct was that an entire wall of natural stone would not only create a uniquely beautiful statement, but also soften the contemporary extension and connect it to the original period apartment beyond.

In theory, it would bring a sense of permanence and belonging, as if it had been there forever.

All that remained was to choose the marble…easier than it sounds.

The complex conundrum of choosing the marble

Initially, we knew very little about marble, however this was a big investment, so we wanted to take our time to learn and explore all the options.

Visiting different stone merchants was fascinating and so much fun. But standing in a yard after yard, packed with tantalising glimpses of thousands of beautiful slabs in a kaleidoscope of colours was also somewhat overwhelming.

I thought I would instinctively know the right marble on sight, however the more we saw, the longer my “shortlist” grew.

Thankfully, we discovered Develli, who eventually supplied our stone. Their knowledge and passion, not to mention endless patience, simplified things and removed the fear factor. Their expertise quickly helped us narrowed down our options.

Countless mock-ups followed, testing different combinations until we finally landed on polished Rosso Levanto for the worktop and lower splashback, paired with honed Antico above to frame the window.

So far, so good…

The curse of the kitchen marble begins

Our marble was delivered to the fabricator and installer. I’d chosen a small family business, with years of experience, an excellent reputation and impressive portfolio. They were passionate, detail-obsessed and lovely to work with.

Then things slowly unravelled…

Planning delays meant our kitchen slipped several months, but eventually it was fitted and they came to template. Installation was set for two weeks later.

We were beyond excited, not least because we could finally book in the valuation for our remortgage, essential if we were to stand a fighting chance of finishing this money-pit of a project.

Then, at 10pm the night before installation, a WhatsApp pinged.

Cancelled and rescheduled the following week. They apologised and explained they were dealing with operational issues.

Not ideal, but these things happen. I explained the urgency of remortgage valuation and potential impact of further delays. All good, they promised.

Then it happened again. And again. And again. And AGAIN!

We were now seven weeks past the original install date, without a functioning kitchen and washing dishes in the bathroom sink. We installed a temporary MDF worktop and bit the bullet with the valuation, to avoid restarting the arduous mortgage process from scratch.

At this point, I should have drawn a line and walked away. Instead, I tried even harder to make it work with them.

I've spent much of my career managing suppliers with large commercial budgets and contracts. Normally I'm meticulous about due diligence, risk and accountability.

Yet staggeringly, when it came to my own home, I ignored all my years of experience.

I believed the assurances I was given. I kept giving them the benefit of the doubt, because I thought they were good people trying their best in the face of huge difficulty.

Another date was set. Then communication stopped completely. Another no-show. No messages. No replies. No phones being answered. Nada.

Up to this point, I’d glossed over the gory details with my other half. His work was particularly demanding at the time, and I genuinely thought I could sort things without adding to his already full plate.

However, by day ten of their disappearing act, I was struggling to cope. In the car on the way to the supermarket, I quietly admitted the truth.

“I can’t get in touch with them and have a niggling, yet very real fear something is seriously wrong their side. We might have lost three slabs of marble.”

Together, we did some very overdue digging. Sadly, that niggling fear was true. They were facing severe problems and we were not alone in our situation, from customers to suppliers.

Thankfully we hadn’t paid them anything. We now just desperately needed to save our marble.

A firmly worded message setting out our ownership of the stone, along with our intention to take all necessary steps to retrieve it, finally prompted a reply.

The owner acknowledged the situation, but reassured us our stone was safe and could be collected. In theory.

In reality, it was inside a stone yard, whose landlord was refusing access to goods and equipment whilst a dispute over arrears was being resolved.

Then came a separate, equally stressful, carefully worded negotiation with the landlord to secure access to our stone. Thankfully, he allowed collection.

In the meantime, I found an amazing new fabricator and installer, The Only Way Is Granite. They were hugely experienced, not to mention incredibly sympathetic and supportive of the difficult situation and helping me find solutions. I truly do not know what I would have done without them.

Next followed the complex, time-consuming and utterly joyless logistical nightmare of getting the stone from the yard to them.

Getting the three huge slabs onto a transport vehicle within a tight access window is as thorny as it sounds. The equipment in the yard could not be used, and I lost hours sourcing the expensive hire of a specialist HIAB lorry and coordinating with our transport.

There is a tiny silver lining here, for you at least; if you ever need to know anything about HIAB hire, I’m your woman. A dubious and useless expertise I can add to my renovation CV, along with drainage strategies.

With everyone booked and coordinated, collection day dawned. I spent the morning on the edge of my seat and glued to my phone, praying everything went smoothly for once.

Naturally, the M25 had other ideas. A major closure meant the transport eventually arrived hours late.

We had to pay the HIAB to wait for ten mins of work. Poof. A thousand pounds gone, just like that.

A super fun day. I still shudder when I think of it.

But, joy, the marble was in perfect condition and finally, safely in the hands of our wonderful new company.

The curse is lifted...

When things go spectacularly and painfully wrong, it does serve to remind you how extraordinarily wonderful it is when they go well. The nightmare of those months quickly transformed into an absolute dream.

Their team made up for everything. A joy to work with, from templating to install with sublime craftsmanship and attention to detail.

Another bonus? Our emotional and financial investment in the marble meant I was now even more hell-bent on my mission to use every spare inch sustainably. They jumped enthusiastically on board.

The Antico joins random spare offcuts from their yard, all cut down into floor tiles for the hallway.

In a wonderfully serendipitous event, the leftover Rosso also found an unexpected but truly perfect home. Stay tuned for more on that coming soon… it’s a bit special.

In all, a very happy ending in more ways than we ever believed possible.

Boundaries matter more than being nice

The whole sorry episode taught me a hard lesson that also makes me a little sad.

Life happens, and some things are unavoidable. However, I was deeply let down by people I trusted and had gone out of my way to make allowances form at huge cost to both our project and emotional wellbeing.

It yet again proves the importance of paying attention when someone’s actions stop matching their assurances.

Unfortunately, people don't always behave as we might hope or expect, whether intentionally or because circumstances have perhaps overtaken them.

You can't control the behaviour of people around you. The only things you can control are your own behaviour and responses. Protect yourself, your project and your interests. I didn't, and that is a huge lesson.

Through my slightly naïve, albeit well-intentioned efforts to support the supplier, I unintentionally sacrificed our own interests and, unwittingly, those of our contractor.

Ultimately, we all paid the price, not only financially, but also through the delays: the constant reshuffling of his schedule and team; the impact on our standard of living, already suffering after eighteen months of renovation. We ended up washing dishes in our bathroom, resulting in a broken a macerator and the hideous smashing of tiles for the repair.

That said, the happy ending does also feel like a testament to my belief that, if you are ultimately a good and kind person, that should come back to you eventually. Hopefully.

The lesson I'll never forget

So, there you have it. The Curse of the Kitchen Marble. Also, known as a lesson that applies to all the horror stories we’ve been unlucky enough to encounter on our journey.

Be fair, respectful and kind. Set clear parameters and expectations on both sides and make sure you keep your side of the street clean. Do your homework and due diligence, do things properly and use the correct and appropriate channels.

Know your rights and that of the other party concerned. Judge objectively whether you REALLY need to go over and above your legal obligations. Plan for the worst-case scenario, and you will more than likely be pleasantly surprised when things go swimmingly.

Unfortunately, I am inherently a people pleaser – thanks ADHD and rejection sensitivity dysphoria – and struggle with boundaries in my personal life, something I’m working on.

Renovations are, by their nature deeply personal, so maybe that’s how the wheels came off in such a spectacularly ruinous way.

Looking back, if I’d had clocked this and applied logic and boundaries, I’ve always used in my professional life, things would have been a LOT less painful for a lot of people.

Anyway. With that out the way, there’s another column to follow in the not-so-distant future on the sexy, fun stuff – the design and styling of my Everything Kitchen.

In the meantime, I hope this offers a kernel or two of helpful intel that either reinforces what you already practice or inspires you to gently start.