“Oops, We Think We Did It Right?”

Accidentally Complying with Heritage Guidelines While Renovating

Tired but solid and totally irresistible

The interior on the day of purchase

Back of church showing clergy ablution block

I. Introduction

It was an emotional purchase — there was zero logic involved. Just a lot of wide-eyed enthusiasm, a soft spot for crumbling history, and a completely untested plan for how we’d fund and project manage a full-scale restoration. What could possibly go wrong?

The building? Well, not your average fixer-upper. Graham and I? Well, never renovated anything in our entire lives. Yet, we somehow found ourselves the proud (and slightly panicked) owners of a Presbyterian church built in 1887. Four-brick-thick walls, pointed arch windows, original timber floors, pulpit and memorial plaques and her original bell — the kind of structure that doesn’t just have history, it echoes and illuminates the stories it has witnessed for over a century.

We didn’t buy it with spreadsheets or architectural plans. We bought it with our hearts — and maybe a little blind faith. The realisation that it came with a heritage overlay arrived just after the keys were handed over and just before the walls started shedding plaster.

From the beginning, this was never about flipping or modernising — it was about honouring a place that had served generations of the local community. We felt like custodians more than owners. This building had hosted weddings, farewells and Sunday services for over a century. It felt right to invest in its future as a way of giving back to the community it had supported for so long.

Originally, we had a plan to subdivide the block of land to help fund the restoration. It seemed like a practical compromise — save the church, pay for the work. But council regulations and some truly draconian bushfire management overlays swiftly put an end to that idea. So, with our budget blown and our subdivision dreams in ashes, we pressed on anyway — powered by passion, optimism, and just a dash of architectural delusion.

Our approach wasn’t exactly strategic. We knew we didn’t want to destroy anything original, but beyond that, we made decisions based on instinct, aesthetic, and what felt respectful to the building’s soul. No one was reading fine print. No one was consulting planning policies.

And yet, somehow… we got it right. When the heritage advisor came by expecting to issue a list of polite corrections, they walked through and instead just nodded — impressed, approving, even a little surprised. We had, completely by accident, complied with all the heritage guidelines as outlined in The Burra Charter 2013.

This is the story of how we navigated the restoration of a 19th-century church with nothing but good intentions, a mild obsession with natural materials — and a whole lot of dumb luck.

In the upcoming Blogs we will cover:

• What Is a Heritage-Listed Property Anyway

• The Project Begins: Our Original Renovation Plan

• Where It Gets Interesting: Discovery of Compliance

• Why What We Did Worked

• Lessons Learned

• Tips for Navigating a Heritage Reno (On Purpose Next Time)

• Conclusion