I demolished a bungalow to build my dream home - 25 years later I've learned 1 big lesson

It was hardly love at first sight. Low-slung, unloved and dating from the interwar period, it wasn't much to look at. But in the world of self-builds, it was gold dust. And so began my accidental career as a "bungalow gobbler"-a tongue-in-cheek term for those of us who demolished these modest homes to make way for something rather more impressive. Early in my hunt for land, it had soon emerged that the best way to secure a half-decent and affordable plot in the countryside was to gobble up a tired, post-war bungalow with an existing garden and ripe for redevelopment.

It was clear that buying a bungalow was code for 'finding a ready-made building plot' and my proposed purchase came with a letter from my localplanning department that declared they would "look favourably" on plans to demolish and replace.

Back in the late 1990s when I was seeking land on which to build my new house, bungalows were familiar features on the landscape but they certainly weren't considered particularly desirable. The Grand Designs effect hadn't yet taken hold, and I was able to buy the property for just £100,000, plus a few thousand more to clear the site. In its place, the council came good on their promise, and I was able to win planning permission to build a contemporary, triple-storey kit house from Boston, US-complete with cedar cladding and dramatic double-height glazing. The transformation made it into an early series of Grand Designs in 2001, as well as providing inspiration for a dozen articles in the Daily Express property section.

Soon, that little bungalow was a distant memory, replaced by a triple-storey, architect-designed, American pre-fab house - shipped over in three containers and which hauled my sleepy lane into the 21st century with cedar cladding and an assertive use of double-height glazing.

As presenter Kevin McCloud noted during filming: "You pay three times; for the land, for the house you don't want, and for the demolition. But if you're going to self build, I can't think of a better way to do it." And yet, as I bulldozed that simple, one-storey shell, I unknowingly joined a wave of redevelopment that's left bungalows on the brink of extinction. Back then, and still so today, snapping up a bungalow is often just shorthand for buying land.

Only around two million true bungalows remain in England and the number is falling every year due to redevelopment.
While demand remains high, particularly among downsizers, they account for just over 1% of new-build completions. This is a significant drop from 6.9% in 2000, which, even then, was viewed as a looming crisis in accessible housing. The UK is now facing a significant shortage of bungalows, with new-build single-storey homes now on the "critically endangered list", according to the National House Building Council. Less than one in 50 new homes is a bungalow because developers make more money from houses and flats on the same footprint.

This is something of a tragedy for those people who wish to downsize, often through mobility issues as they age, and who don't want the unpredictable service charges of a flat and the lack of a private garden - particularly if they have pets.

Looking back at my own experience as a "bungalow gobbler" in Pulborough nearly three decades ago - albeit the fact I was knocking down a semi-derelict dwelling - I can see what we risk losing each time another single-storey home is razed without thought. For generations, the bungalow has stood as a symbol of British aspiration: independence, affordability and comfort under one roof. If we want future generations to enjoy that same freedom - especially those who need it most - it's time we stood up for our endangered one-storey wonders before it really is too late.