A thoughtful south-side wing and a warm, modern palette reshape a Miramar bungalow.
In the small linkway that joins this original bungalow to its new kitchen/dining wing, the intentions behind Hannah Heffernan and Mark Whitmore’s renovation are immediately felt. The brick wall still shows the marks of its exterior life, a rosewood bench tucks into a niche and a slim marble ledge — a way to use offcuts from the kitchen and bathroom surfaces — sits opposite it. Morning light falls across these surfaces, softening the shift between eras. It’s a modest space that captures the project’s ethos: the old kept honest, the new shaped with intention, and the family’s instincts allowed room to take hold.

When they returned to Te Whanganui-a-Tara/Wellington after years overseas, Hannah and Mark were drawn to a brick bungalow on the Miramar ridge the 1930s character of which had been left largely untouched. Leadlights coloured the hallway and the proportions felt generous, with views stretching from Lyall Bay to the city. “It just had so much charm,” says Hannah. “Very little had been changed. The bones were the same. It felt intact in a really lovely way.”

Living here with three children, though, soon revealed its limits. The recently updated kitchen looked fresh, but its compact footprint made everyday life awkward. If the children sat at the small dining table, the oven door couldn’t be opened. Outdoor space was plentiful, although there was no meaningful way to reach it from inside. The house felt full of possibility, but it just wasn’t working for them. So the couple turned to Patchwork Architecture to help reimagine how to make the space flow for family life.

Their brief formed around simple needs: more room for the family to gather, a second bathroom to ease the pressure of mornings and a clearer connection between inside and out. What they didn’t want was to erode the bungalow’s original charm. Its proportions and solidity were part of why they loved it. Patchwork’s co-founder, Sally Ogle, and project architect Jason Tan, read its character as a framework rather than an obstacle. The house was double brick throughout, which meant shifting internal walls could unravel both cost and character. “Our first impression was that we should touch as little as possible,” says Sally. “Moving walls in a house like this gets complicated and expensive.” The team focused instead on expanding the home in a way that respected its form.


The only workable platform was to the south — an unexpected move for a main living space, yet the site’s levels made it the most feasible place to build. “I couldn’t picture how that would ever feel warm,” says Hannah. “But as soon as they explained the clerestory, it all clicked. It was inspired.”


Inside the new wing, the roofline lifts to a run of high windows that draw daylight down from the north. The change in atmosphere is immediate. “The volume was key,” says Jason. “Those tall clerestory windows bring in the sun and differentiate the space from the flat ceilings of the bungalow.” Morning and evening light shift distinctly through the room, touching the long spine of timber joinery that holds the dining seat, kitchen workspace and storage. This element anchors the space and organises how the family moves between the two outdoor areas and the original hallway.

is upholstered in Cheshire Chai by Warwick, with custom and Città cushions.
Keeping the bungalow intact required thoughtful adjustments to the bedrooms and bathrooms. Patchwork grouped the wet areas and turned the old kitchen into the youngest child’s room. A second bathroom borrows from the footprint of the two older girls’ original bedroom, with the basin shifted into the hallway just outside the door. “That tiny decision has changed our mornings,” says Hannah. “The kids can brush their teeth, without blocking the whole bathroom.”

Hannah’s instinct was always to reveal rather than replace. She guided the interior scheme with confidence, leaning into the warmth of the bungalow’s brick to shape the palette. The pōhutukawa-toned kitchen island and the Calacatta Viola marble grew naturally from that base. Brick reappears outside the addition in a stacked bond, shifting the pace rather than imitating the bungalow’s coursing. Hannah’s choices drew a line between eras: colour and stone work together to echo the warmth of the brick, while giving the new spaces a clearer tempo.


The timber floors offered another moment of transformation. “I didn’t have faith in the floors,” says Mark. “They were almost black. But once that century of lacquer came off, the original mataī was stunning.” The bungalow keeps its brass details, while the addition uses stainless steel, marking the threshold without forcing a contrast.

One of the project’s most quietly effective spaces sits in the linkway between the two wings. Beneath the bungalow’s eaves, Patchwork tucked the laundry, coatrack and storage, along with a window seat. Jason sees this compact zone as a small triumph. “For such a tiny space, it offers a lot,” he says. “It softens the acoustics and connects both sides of the house.” It has become one of the places the family uses most often.

Outdoors, the renovation unlocked the site more completely than the couple expected. The eastern deck settles beneath the pōhutukawa, giving them shelter on windy days. The west catches the warmth at the end of the afternoon. Mark especially enjoys this shift. “The evenings are magic,” he says. “We had the sunsets before, but we couldn’t really sit in them.”


The house now reflects how the family actually lives. Quiet rooms remain in the bungalow, while the addition gathers everyone naturally. “It’s just very easy,” says Hannah. “The older rooms give us calmer pockets and this space is where everything happens.” Mark adds a note that rings through the project. “Seeing our kids grow up in spaces Hannah has shaped feels special. The house carries her touch everywhere.”


Patchwork provided the spaces that allowed their clients to express themselves, without overwhelming the home’s origins. Hannah and Mark filled it with decisions that make the home unmistakably theirs. The renovation didn’t reinvent the bungalow so much as open the parts that needed room, letting old and new connect with each other with confidence.
Words Alice Lines
Photography Simon Wilson
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