At the Sweets Way show home, activists are standing up to developers using hammers and paintbrushes

Campaigners are renovating a condemned home in a Barnet estate to show that regeneration doesn't have to mean demolition.

By Barbara Speed

The Sweets Way estate is an eerie place to visit. In the surrounding suburbs of Totteridge and Whetstone, families wander along the streets and washing flutters in back gardens, but in the cluster of streets that make up the estate, all is quiet. The windows and doors of the 140-odd houses are fitted with brown metal muzzles, occasionally brightened with bits of graffiti. Overflowing bins sit in empty lots. In fact, the only signs of life are the cars that line every street: the area’s office workers have been quick to capitalise on the disappearance of Sweets Way’s residents.

But at the heart of the ghost town, at number 153, is one house with all its windows intact and a freshly planted garden. Here, a group of ex-residents and activists are sawing, painting and cabinet-making in order to turn the house back into a home.

Houses on the estate. Many have bits of graffiti on windows and doors, left by ex-residents during protests and occupations.

The story of Sweets Way’s evictions is well-worn: it mirrors the narrative of estates across London. Since 2006, the estate was occupied by private tenants and members of the Notting Hill Housing Trust. But the long-term plan since owners Annington Homes ended their contract with the Ministry of Defence (pre-2006, service personnel lived there) has always been redevelopment.

Annington Homes plans to build 288 residences on the site, starting later this year. Ex-residents of Sweets Way call these “luxury apartments”; Annington describes them as “new, better designed homes”, which would increase the current number of dwellings by 100 per cent. The reality, as always, is somewhere in the middle: the new homes would certainly be more densely built, but only around 60 of them would be classed as “affordable”, while none would be available to social tenants. Meanwhile, Barnet council defines “affordable” as “up to 80 per cent of market rents”, which, for most, is anything but.

Overall, it’s unlikely many, or any, of Sweets Ways’ ex-tenants would be able to afford live there again. Since planning permission was approved in November last year, families have resisted the plans through occupations and protests. Now, though, all but one of the families have been successfully evicted (the final family has been issued with a possession order).

The Sweets Way “show home”, meanwhile, has been occupied so campaigners can show the council and the public what’s possible with a few days, a few volunteers, and a couple of hundred pounds donated by activist groups. On Tuesday, campaigner Liam showed me round as volunteers arrive and get down to sanding and painting. “None of us have much experience with this stuff,” he tells me – though the group has had some help from a local plumber, glazier, and cabinetmaker – as he proudly points out a section of kitchen floor made from reclaimed pieces of slate.

Flooring in the kitchen. The slate came from a derelict factory nearby.

To make things even harder, the campaigners say Annington Homes destroyed facilities in homes across the estate after the evictions to make them unliveable, and make life for occupiers more difficult. This included ripping out waste water pipes, smashing porcelain and pulling out kitchen cabinets. In some homes, there were even holes gouged in the roof. (I approached Annington Homes about this, but they declined to comment on the destruction specifically.) So the renovators weren’t even starting from scratch – before they could set about repairs, they had to clear the house of the damage done to it by the developers.

Campaigners say that the estate’s owners smashed up the houses’ interiors to make them unlivable and prevent more occupations. This is the bathroom in the “anti-show home” next door.

No one I spoke to remembers who first had the idea for the show home, and the home next door, which has been left in its smashed-up state to show what the campaigners have achieved in the show home. But at the heart of the operation is Polish-born Anna, who was laying floorboards made of old pallets on the landing when I looked around. She lived on the estate before she was evicted into temporary accommodation with her children.

For her, the show home represents a kind of third way for regeneration: “If councils gave residents a few thousand pounds, and access to local contractors, they would fix up homes for the sake of keeping their community. They just need to give us a chance.” Meanwhile, her children play downstairs in a police hat and butterfly wings. “They love Sweets Way, they’re so pleased to be back,” she says.

They’re not the only ones: while Anna is no doubt exhausted, and discouraged from the standoff with Barnet Homes, the council, and the estate’s owners (she tried to explain the renovation idea to the head of Barnet council, who “did not get on board”) she seems invigorated by the restoration project. “It will be very rustic when it’s finished,” she says, showing me the floorboards in the second bedroom. “I have such a beautiful sink for this room – would you like to see it? I’m so excited about it!” She leads me downstairs and we admire the wooden structure together.

“The yellow wall has been controversial. In fact, the biggest arguments on this campaign so far have been over paint colours” – Liam.

So how will she feel if and when the show home, along with the rest of Sweets Way, is demolished? “It’ll be really sad, especially after all the work we’ve put into this house. But maybe we’ll inspire other people to do the same before it’s too late – or inspire councils to see that they don’t have to demolish estates to make them livable.”

Figures obtained by the Independent show that between July and September 2014, Barnet arranged 306 homeless placements in accommodation outside the borough – it effectively gave up on housing its poorer residents. Anna’s temporary accommodation is currently within the borough, but her family could easily be moved to another borough, miles away from home. The uncaring exile of residents from their communities is at the heart of the anger at Sweets Way, and the attempts to salvage it using basic tools and pots and paint show both how little power residents have in the face of redevelopment, and how hard they’re willing to try.