From Junk to Joy: How We Turned a Garage Into a Creative Studio
- conor-bradley
- Sep 17
- 5 min read
I have always hated the places I’ve used to record YouTube videos. My first setup was a bedroom in Qatar that was cluttered and incredibly echoey. I tried what I could to make it more acoustically suitable—bought foam sound panels, attached blankets and rugs to the walls. But it was cramped, unsuitable, and uninspiring.
Then in Vietnam, I moved to our open-plan kitchen/living area. Also not ideal. Every recording session was a battle against background noise—motorbikes outside, clattering dishes, the constant hum of daily life. It worked, but it never felt professional.
I promised myself that once I got back to Ireland, I would finally create a permanent room dedicated to a creative Learning Made Fun studio. Our mission was simple: buy a house as soon as possible so that this dream could become reality, and with it, revive the dying LMF channel.
After we moved into our temporary living space—very kindly offered by Majella’s sister’s family—we set our focus on finding a house of our own. But that dream quickly went up in smoke. A mortgage broker practically laughed when we raised the idea of applying. It became painfully clear that owning a home wasn’t going to happen for at least a year.
But how could I wait a year? It already felt like I’d been missing the past three.
One day, as I vented my frustrations, my parents listened patiently. Then my mum suggested something unexpected: “Why don’t you use our garage roof space?”
At first, the idea sounded mad. The garage was dirty, echoey, and beat-up. But as I thought about it, my mind filled with possibilities. It was spacious. It had wooden floors. And with some imagination, it could become the best creative space I’d ever had.
Immediately, we got to work. Step one: clear out years’ worth of junk and give the place a serious clean.
Next came sanding the walls. As the dust cleared, I discovered something unexpected—my brother’s old teenage attempt at turning the garage into a cool, edgy drumming room. Back in the day, he thought he was Banksy, but quickly realised graffiti is hard. His “art” had been hastily covered with a coat of cream paint, leaving the walls looking as tired as his abandoned drumsticks. Classic.
After sanding down his ancient expressive phase, we began painting. We went for a dark green—something moody, rich, with a dark-academia vibe. The vision? A blend of old-world atmosphere with modern creative energy.
Of course, we massively underestimated how long painting would take. Estimated time: 1 hour. Reality: 15 hours. But once the walls were done, the space started to feel transformed.
Then came the floors. Cue Harold. Harold is to Henry what champagne is to lemonade—a more refined, posh cousin. Harold isn’t just a vacuum cleaner. Harold is a robot vacuum cleaner. A random purchase by my mum… but an absolute game changer.
With the walls painted and the floors cleaned, it was time to bring the space to life. We didn’t start well. First, we dragged out the power washer to jet-clean the dirty rugs—only for it to cut out halfway through. Oops. (Thankfully it came back to life after a rest.) Then came the infamous £5 second-hand table. Armed with £20 worth of paint stripper and an hour of our lives, we watched absolutely nothing happen. At that point, we admitted defeat. No point turning a £5 table into a £50 headache. It stayed stubbornly white.
That’s when reinforcements arrived: me, Majella, my graffiti-artist-turned-joiner brother, and my dad. Together we went to town on the roofspace. We hung a cheap magnetic blackout curtain, built Majella her dream artist’s table, layered in lights, rugs, and little creative touches. Slowly but surely, the garage stopped looking like a forgotten dumping ground and began to feel like a real studio.
Later we set up some cool LED lights, decorations, statues and ornaments that reflected the curriculum in a funny way and even the beginings of a podcast area (Idea for the future).
Later we set up some cool LED lights, quirky decorations, statues, and ornaments that tied into the curriculum in a funny way. Even the beginnings of a podcast corner started to take shape—an idea for the future, but one that already made the space feel alive with possibility.
This wasn’t just a quick renovation project. This was a dream we had carried for years. Every day, in Qatar, in Vietnam, we imagined what my own creative studio would look like. We pictured the layout, the lighting, the vibe. I obsessed over the details, sketching it in my head again and again, waiting for the day I could finally make it real.
And then, one evening,we sat down in the finished studio for the first time. For years, I had recorded in cramped bedrooms, noisy kitchens, and borrowed corners that never felt quite right. Now, we finally had a space built for creativity—a place where Learning Made Fun could breathe again.
It wasn’t the dream of owning a house (not yet, anyway). But in a way, it was better. This garage roofspace had been transformed from a dusty storage room into something symbolic: proof that with a little vision, a lot of effort, and plenty of support from family, you can create opportunity anywhere. But the key here was family. On my own, this would have been impossible. My mum gave me the idea. My dad rolled up his sleeves. My brother put his joinery skills to work. Majella brought her artistic eye. Even Harold the robot vacuum did his bit. I’m not oblivious to how lucky I am—many people don’t have access to the kind of support and generosity I received. I’m deeply grateful for every single bit of help, encouragement, and belief along the way. This studio isn’t just a creative space—it’s a living reminder of the people who stood beside me and made this dream possible.
Every time I walk in, I’m reminded why I started Learning Made Fun in the first place. To build, to create, and to show that learning can happen in unexpected places—even above a garage.
The channel feels alive again. And so do we.
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