Grand Designs Australia - Season 7

The first time Brendan Moran saw his north Bondi block, it was so steep and inaccessible he didn't bother getting out of the car. But wife Penny was undeterred. She saw the potential in the awkward L-shaped, battle-axe block. Despite being hemmed in on all sides by surrounding houses and with just one skinny laneway in, they reckoned they could squeeze all they needed for them and their four kids on this block by simply going up. 

Four levels should do it, rising 14m in the air with an infinity edge pool, and they're pushing building regulations to get it all in. But excavating this ex-quarry is more complicated than they think. In fact, every stage of the build is hampered by the challenges of the block. It's so tight there's nowhere for the tradies to put anything, and keeping peace with the neighbours is a full-time job. 

With builder and mentor Martin at the helm, Penny dons the work boots and hard hat, and gets on the tools. Her passion is building and she's all over the intricacies of the build as she juggles her life as a tradie with being a mum. After a family holiday to Thailand, she and Brendan return refreshed and inspired to make substantial structural changes they say will make their house even better. From changing the entire entrance to lifting ceiling heights and redesigning the pool to make it even longer and deeper, the complexity of this construction would challenge even the most seasoned builders. 

After numerous council applications and changes that blow their bank balance, and schedule, right out of the water, their spontaneous decision-making threatens to spiral out of control. As costs soar into the millions, there's no guarantee how or when this multi-tiered tower will ever get done.

Building a grand design takes time and more often than not, takes longer than anyone expects. Phil and Ariana have given themselves just two weeks to build their home in Maianbar, in Sydney's south, regardless of the fact they've never built anything before. 

Utilising a build system that has never been used for domestic housing in Australia before, this could either be a new blueprint for construction in this country, or a complete disaster. They've chosen a building method popular in European residential construction - cross-laminated timber which is essentially a flat pack home using wood compressed to be as strong as steel. 

With the design focused entirely on making the water views the centrepiece of the build, the house is put together piece by piece like a giant Meccano set. But with 130-plus timber panels precision-cut in an Austrian factory and installed in a strict order on site, there is no room for error. With Phil drawing on his skills in HR to project manage, will his unrelenting obsession with a strict time frame compromise the integrity of the design?

When Nick and Nicole's brief to their architect Dan Sparkes was a house sympathetic to the dense rainforest surrounding their land, his solution was to build them a tent. The design incorporates a huge, taut translucent sail - normally used in commercial projects - covering a simple rectangular pavilion underneath. It's a brave concept but the true magic of the design lies in the retractable roof, which peels back to showcase the rainforest canopies overhead. 

Nick and Nicole will be able to lie in bed and literally look at the stars. But will this super-engineered tent simply look like a conference centre in the middle of the lush, green rainforest? Whatever happens, Nick and Nicole are prepared to take the risk and be adventurous.

Anglican Reverends Neil and Ruth have a shared love of all things Gothic and medieval. So when the couple decided to build their first-ever family home in the Adelaide suburb of Hillbank, it was no surprise that the city of churches would provide plenty of inspiration. Not that they want a church-like house. 

Neil is chasing a barn-inspired house with big, heavy timber beams. So they've chosen to create a medieval manor built in the traditional way using methods from another time. The bones of the house's eight huge A-frames will be built by hand out of timber by a team of specialist carpenters. Thousands of timber shingles will cover the massive roof, with a two-storey high Gothic glass window the centrepiece of the house. 

But Neil is constantly let down by suppliers and has grossly underestimated the cost of the build, so work on the site stalls. When summer hits and temperatures soar well into the 40s, the exposed A-frame timber beams begin to warp and crack. They elect to use something straight off a warehouse floor - insulated refrigerator panels on the roof and walls - a most unlikely fit for a medieval house. 

Not only do they look incongruous, they are hell to work with and expensive. What ensues is a tug of war between old and new materials; between a passion for the past and unsavoury reality. With a blind faith that sees Neil try to ignore spiralling costs, he enlists the help of his family to finish his passion project, turning a build he hoped would last a few months into a five-year revelation.

Hardworking GP Zewlan and her electrician husband Tom (now stay-at-home dad to their two kids), want an architect-designed home in a great location on a shoestring budget. This was looking unlikely until they found an inexpensive block on a ridge above a freeway at Ocean Shores (near Byron). Now all they need is an architecture firm inventive enough to design them a stylish home for very little money. Their modest, forward-thinking philosophy is helpful as they naturally veer away from lavish floor plans and luxurious finishes in favour of the compact, simple, open, sustainable and economical. Working within a tenuous loan framework what they get, apart from stress, is quite fantastic.

A tiny budget, a thirst for living frugally, and a desire to have a home that leaves a small footprint can force some radical thinking. So when electrician and stay-at-home dad Tom and his doctor wife Zewlan decided to build their new home in Ocean Shores, size was everything. Their plan is for a solar passive family home with three modest bedrooms that maximise potential views; small, beautiful spaces on a firm budget of $350,000. 

With the help of award-winning architects Melanie and James, they've come up with a design based on the three S's: small, simple and straightforward. Built out of chipboard, the house will be just half the size of the average Australian home. In a simple layout, three modest bedrooms will connect to one long outside/inside corridor running the length of the house and open underneath, like a deck. The lounge, kitchen and mezzanine will all be easily closed off with huge sliding glass. 

Tom's biggest concern is for the finishes after the exposed chipboard is damaged by some wet weather, he's keen to get the roof on. Will financial pressure and some inclement weather force a re-think or will he and Zewlan stay true to their small house philosophy?

Barry and Robyn Henwood love the environment in different ways; his is a passion for green technology, while she loves turning native flora into textiles and teaching yoga. They're building a stylish beach shack to retire in, one that floats on a pair of untouched sand dunes in Aldinga on Adelaide's southern coast. 

Solar-powered, and aesthetically pleasing, it should be the perfect fit, but Robyn is yet to be convinced. Her life is entrenched in the city so she needs some cajoling. The contemporary modest design features a pair of steel clad pods joined by a timber walkway, and surrounded by native bush. 

But as soon as building gets under way, the excavation impacts on the environment. Despite their best efforts replanting and shoring up the dunes, the beach scrub soon dwindles and Robyn and Barry are left pondering their next course of action. As the dunes progressively erode, the more Robyn and Barry persevere. 

But when their self-rusting steel cladding is battered by harsh coastal conditions, staining their deck and turning the exterior into something resembling dribbled fat, Robyn's doubts really set in. Can they restore their precious landscape and will Robyn eventually sever her ties with the city and make her project in the dunes home?

Heritage is a powerful thing. In the Adelaide Hills, it's shaped entire towns through stone buildings, many of which were built by the first wave of German immigrants. It was this heritage that drew a couple with Italian blood - web designer Louise Sergie and psychologist husband Steve Hardwick and their three kids - to this pocket of history. 

They bought a block with stone outhouses and an established English garden, a mix of styles that influences their thinking about their own grand design. Being an owner/builder is stressful for the most experienced, but more so if you're new to the game. 

The couple are passionate about creating a stone home and want to blend a Tuscan feel with a modern look, using 160 tonnes of locally quarried stone to create castle-thick walls, recycled timbers for internal joinery, and a cutting-edge bridge linking the upstairs rooms with a dynamic glass box, will ensure that this will be a style that defies categorisation.

What do you do if you're a perfectionist, revel in precision and minimalism, and have a deep fascination for all things Japanese? Well, if you're ex-advertising guru-turned-Japanese bar and restaurant owner Steve Minon, you track down iconic Kobe-based architect Yo Shimada to realise your dream of a Japanese-inspired Queenslander.

 Steve has an extremely steep block of land in the Brisbane suburb of Hamilton that will take an engineering feat of epic proportions to bring Yo Shimada's groundbreaking east-meets-west vision to life. Especially because conditions in flood-prone Queensland are vastly different from Kobe, something that becomes all too clear when the build is battered in cyclonic weather that washes much of the steep block away. 

With such precise and intricate design details, including the galvanised steel framework constructed by robotics, this stripped-back home takes its cues from the refinement of Japanese culture: simple, raw materials and exposed junctions that reveal the intricacies of the construction. It ticks all of Steve's boxes: one bedroom, simple, elegant and pared back. 

But when his partner, musician Jonny, moves in with his grand piano, will this modest but beautiful house for one become a house that also works for two?

Retired chef Phillip Murphy lives in a quirky cluster of disconnected buildings in the picturesque town of Stanley in Tasmania. His bedroom and bathroom are in an old woodshed. His kitchen and lookout are in an 1870s heritage-listed windmill a few metres away. 

For six years, Phillip has rattled between the two, but he's had enough. Now he's engaged his friend and architect, Greg Prentice, to design a house that will link the three small historic structures (including a decrepit rocket-shaped outhouse) into a contemporary, cohesive whole. 

The new building will be a direct contrast to the old, using modern materials, lots of glass and a cantilevered lounge oriented towards the spectacular view. As the property is directly below a volcanic plug called The Nut, the exterior will be clad in dark stained ply, reflecting the colours of the location. 

When it comes to building the family home in Canberra, IT engineer Damien Lederer wants it filled with every whizz-bang feature his hi-tech brain can create. 

Computer-controlled blinds, clear to opaque glass, a two-storey helical glass staircase and a custom-designed, air-powered laundry chute are all on the table. As well as a house that can think for itself, Damien wants to fuse green building materials with commercial elements to create a zero-carbon house, not an easy task when you're wanting all the latest wizardry and comforts. It's hard to wrap it all up in a strictly green philosophy.