WHEN you’re a teeny height of 5”1, it’s not often you have to duck down to enter a building.

But that’s exactly what I found myself doing, as I stepped into the smallest house in Great Britain.

Nestled at the end of a terrace in Conwy, North Wales, the tiny home has a floor space of just 10ft by 5.9ft – meaning it’s as wide as a Ford Focus.

There’s just enough room inside this cosy house for a fireplace, stove, and ladder up to a bedroom with a single bed – but no bathroom.

There’s certainly no space for a television, but that hasn’t stopped the TV licensing inspectors from knocking on owner Jan Tyley’s door.

The 58-year-old solicitor’s great-great grandfather, Robert Jones, bought the house for just £20 in 1891.

And the Grade II listed building has been passed down the family ever since.

“When I was little, it just seemed like it was part of family life,” Jan says. “But since I inherited it from my cousin Margaret in 2015, it’s been quite a boast.

“When I tell people I own it, they react either with astonishment, or actually, quite a lot of people say, ‘Oh, I’ve been there. I know that.’ 

“The other question I get is, ‘What’s the second smallest house in the country?’ The answer to which I have absolutely no idea!”

Humble beginnings

The Smallest House, also known as Quay House, was built in the 16th century between two already-standing rows of cottages.

The terraced houses had a space in the middle, left for one of Conwy Castle’s towers.

Jan says: “It’s believed someone built the house here during the night, thanks to a rule that says if you can build a house after sunset and have smoke coming out of the chimney by sunrise, you can claim the plot as your own. 

“It only took a front and a roof to make it into a property.”

While it’s not known who built the house, Jan has gone back through the census and found there have been many couples living together in the house.

“When they did, they used to lower the trapdoor, up there, down and roll out a mattress to cover the whole floor, which is about the same size as a double bed,” she adds.

Jan says the very maximum amount of people who can fit into the house comfortably is six, but there used to actually be a mum, dad and four children living in the tiny house.

“The kids used to sleep on hammocks hung between the beams upstairs,” she says. “It’s absolutely crazy.”

The last person to live here was a local fisherman called Richard Jones, who, amazingly, was 6”3.

He was a sitting tenant when Jan’s great-great grandfather bought the property, occupying it until May 1900, when the building was condemned as being unfit for human habitation and he was forced to move out.

Nearly knocked down

Due to none of them having a toilet, the tiny house – along with the row of cottages to its left – were all about to be knocked down.

“But my great-great grandfather, having only owned it for nine years, was sitting in the pub bemoaning his fate to his friends, when one of his friends, the editor of the local newspaper, Roger Dawson, said, ‘Well, it might be the smallest in the country!’” says Jan.

Roger and Richard went ahead and put adverts in papers across the country, asking people to send details of their small houses, before travelling around Great Britain measuring them all.

Indeed, Quay House in Conwy was the smallest, and they appealed to the council who agreed to leave it standing, as long as no one lived in it.

It’s been open as a tourist attraction ever since.

Jan says: “When my Auntie Lissy had it, she used to live next door, and she had a sign in the window saying, ‘Anybody who want to see inside the smallest house, come and knock on the door.’

“So she would jump up from tea or dinner and open up the house so people could see inside. 

“So it wasn’t quite the same tourist attraction back then as it is now.”

These days, it’s open seven days a week, from 10am to 4pm, and receives around 50-60,000 visitors a year.

That’s, in part, thanks to Jan’s relative Margaret, who she inherited the house from.

Jan explains: “When it was lived in, and up until the 1970s, it was creamy-white outside, but it was Margaret who chose to paint it red. 

“She thought it would stand out, and red is a very Welsh colour, and, indeed, it was Margaret, too, who brought in the tradition of the ladies on the door wearing Welsh costumes.”

And last year, Jan moved from Oxford to Saint Asaph, 25 minutes away from the house, so she could check on it more regularly.

She says: “There’s always rolling maintenance we have to do. 

“Unfortunately, with the back wall being part of an ancient monument, it’s not the driest of environments.”

Sadly, Jan also has to deal with thieves.

She says: “The most bizarre thing – we used to have the Bible on the bed upstairs. 

“We’ve got railings up there, because obviously we can’t have thousands of people walking on the floor, and, somehow, somebody managed to get it from the far end of the bed out. Goodness knows how. 

“So now we don’t put a Bible on the bed!”

Cheeky offers

Of course, Jan doesn’t actually live in the house – and has no plans to.

“I couldn’t,” she laughs. “I like my creature comforts too much!”

But she has absolutely no plans to sell it.

“Amazingly, we get people offering to buy it for £20 now, but I say no!” she laughs.

Instead, she’s already lining up her youngest son, who is 22, as the heir to the smallest house.

“He’s very, very keen on taking it on in years to come,” she says.

“He actually deputised for me last week, while I was on holiday, and he knows exactly what he’s doing.”