Notting Hill keeps its best spaces out of sight. Behind the long terraces of white stucco, screened by railings and a locked gate, sit the communal gardens of the Ladbroke Estate. They were laid out in the middle of the nineteenth century as shared private greens, lawns and mature trees held in common by the houses around them, and they are still some of the most generous outdoor rooms in the city. You walk past dozens of them without ever knowing they are there.
A client asked us to imagine something for exactly this kind of setting. Could a padel court sit inside a garden square like this, looking onto the lawn and the stucco beyond, without feeling like a thing that had been dropped on the grass? They asked us to draw it up so they could see how it might feel. What follows is that concept. It is a study, not a built scheme.
A padel court imagined as a timber garden pavilion, its pitched glulam roof and glazed gable opening onto the communal lawn, cherry blossom, and white stucco terraces of a Notting Hill square.
The first decision was about manners. A sports building in a setting like this cannot behave like a sports building. The garden squares have a quiet pedigree, the glasshouses and orangeries and summerhouses that have always belonged at the edge of a fine garden, and the court needed to join that lineage rather than ignore it.
So we drew a pavilion. A pitched roof, a clear gable, a timber frame, the kind of form that has stood in English gardens for two hundred years and never looked out of place. It holds itself with a bit of formality, which is what the square asks for, while still being a building you play sport in. The aim was something a resident would be glad to see from their window, not something they would campaign to have removed.
The roof is where the design spends its energy. A pitched structure of exposed glulam, with trusses rising to a fan of timber struts at the apex, carried on a warm boarded soffit. It is unashamedly the best thing in the room. Where a flat ceiling would have made the court feel like a box, the pitch gives it height, light, and a sense of occasion, the way a good roof always has.
Timber was the natural choice. It brings the colour and warmth of the garden indoors, it lets the structure stay honest and on show, and it quietly does the right thing on carbon while it is at it. The trussed roof is also the part of the building that reads from outside, a recognisable, almost domestic silhouette that settles the pavilion into the square rather than announcing it.
The gable end is a single full-height glazed wall, a timber and steel grid that puts the communal garden directly in front of the players. A flowering cherry in the foreground, the lawn, the black railings, and the white stucco terraces rising behind. In spring the blossom does the work. In winter the bare branches and the painted facades take over. Either way the view is never the same twice, and the court borrows all of it for nothing.
The design moves are deliberately few, and each earns its place:
The things that make the court good to use are mostly invisible. Daylight pours in through the gable and filters through the mesh, so the lights stay off for most of the day. The open sides let air move across the court and clear the closeness that ruins a stuffy indoor space. The timber softens sound rather than throwing it back. None of it announces itself. It simply feels pleasant to be in.
The sustainability follows the same quiet line we hold on every project. A timber structure stores carbon rather than spending it. Daylight-led design keeps the running energy low. The planted edges tie the building back into the garden's own ecology. We did not add any of this to make a point. A pavilion like this only earns its place if it is light to run and good to use for decades, long after the first photographs.
This was drawn so a client could stand inside the idea and decide whether it was worth taking further. It is the third in a small run of studies we have made on the same theme, after a court imagined under the Westway and another looking onto Regent's Park, each one asking what padel might become in a corner of London you would not expect to find it.
Whether this exact pavilion is ever built in this exact square, the principle holds. Treat the green as the main event, design something with enough grace to belong beside it, and give people a reason to gather there. In a garden square, the architecture's first job is to know its place. The rest is just a good game with a very good view.
Have a garden, square, or overlooked green worth designing around? We would love to talk through what it could become. Please do get in touch.
→ Email us at architects@risedesignstudio.co.uk
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