My husband, Derek Codling, who has died aged 80, was an architect who designed housing and industrial projects for new towns in the 1960s before going on to set up his own practice.
Born in Kingston, south-west London, to Robert Codling, a Salvation Army officer, and his wife, Olive (nee Gooch), Derek was single-minded about wanting to be an architect even from an early age. While still at Surbiton County grammar school in Surrey he travelled up to central London to listen to evening lectures given by the architect Reyner Banham at the City Lit adult educational college.
Derek began a degree in architecture at Liverpool University in 1957, but he had a nervous breakdown during his second year and had to deal with his then girlfriend giving birth to their daughter, Pippa. As a result his studies were disrupted for several years, but he was determined to qualify and eventually he graduated with his BArch and a post professional practice qualification in 1967.
Soon afterwards he was offered work in two of the new towns that were springing up at the time, starting in Runcorn, Cheshire, and then moving to Milton Keynes, Buckinghamshire, where he became divisional architect for the southern half of the city, designing housing and industrial schemes. As a modernist he found the work exciting and with other members of his teams won a number of awards for his work.
After that, he spent two years working as a supervisor in Saudi Arabia for Dar al Riyadh, a firm building a new city with all the latest infrastructure, including schools, workspaces, hospitals and leisure facilities. Returning to Britain in 1985, he set up his own practice in Buxton, Norfolk, for which he designed – among other things – some highly acclaimed assembly buildings for the doorbell manufacturer Friedland Doggart in Stockport, Cheshire.
Our first meeting was in Milton Keynes, where I was the development corporation’s community officer for the Bletchley area. We got together after a fancy dress party in 1975 and married in 1995. He designed our small house in the Scottish Borders; there was just room for the two of us but it was so well configured that there was space for everything. I’m wondering now, however, if a microwave might ruin the whole structure.
Derek is survived by me and Pippa.