The house that never closed.

Bill and Shez arrived here in 1973 as a young couple fresh from Hong Kong and Fiji, carrying two babies, ambition and not much else. What they found was a largely untouched 1865 terrace, a fiercely local community and a home that would quietly evolve into the backdrop for an extraordinary Sydney life.

Inside the home, stories seem embedded into the walls themselves - somewhere between the original fireplaces, the deep paved courtyard and the worn timber stairs that have carried generations of guests upstairs long after midnight. First offered to market in more than 50 years, the four-level terrace remains deeply connected to the family who shaped it, and to the city that grew around it.

“We bought in Paddington because someone in Hong Kong told us it was ‘on the up-and-up’,” Bill says. “And so we did.”

They were 22 and 25 when they arrived. Their sons were toddlers. The terrace itself was “a pretty squeasy two-bedroom abode,” Bill recalls, largely unchanged since the 1860s. At the time, they were the youngest couple in the street by far, surrounded by Greek families and World War II veterans who had shaped the area for generations.

“The warm welcome these old folk delivered us was a life-enricher of the first order,” Bill says. “When I travelled, I knew the neighbours were watching over Shez and the boys.”

One neighbour in particular - Cecil - became part protector, part folklore. A war veteran with wildly embellished stories involving camels, jungle warfare and revolvers, Cecil watched over the street with near-mythical devotion. “If anyone threatened them, the consequences would be the stuff of horror movies,” Bill laughs.

At the time, Paddington was rough-edged and unpredictable. Bill was running the snack bar at the Grand National Hotel nearby, serving what he describes as “burglars, drug dealers, crooked unionists and rough-and-ready regulars” during an era of police raids and pub brawls. Yet somehow, the terrace became a gathering place for all of it - the chaos, the creativity and the friendships.

“Being hospitable folks, we welcomed everyone into the house,” Bill says.

Over the decades, the guest list only became more eclectic. Bill moved into media and entertainment, becoming Publicity Manager for World Series Cricket before later producing films through Michael Edgley International (think: The Man From Snowy River and Phar Lap). Cricketers, journalists, actors, sailors and television personalities filtered through the terrace during long lunches, celebrations and late-night storytelling sessions.

By the mid-1980s, the family undertook their first major renovation with renowned Sydney builders Critharis, nearly tripling the original footprint. The result reshaped the terrace into a substantial family home across four levels, with formal and casual living zones, multiple balconies and deeply private outdoor space wrapped in greenery.

“More space for parties,” Bill says. “And room at last for the boys to swing a cat.”

Today, the home balances that expansive scale with a warmth that still feels unmistakably personal. The farmhouse kitchen anchors the centre of the house, while fireplaces, timber floorboards and layered outdoor connections retain the terrace’s original soul. Upstairs, the top-floor retreat opens to long leafy outlooks through a dormer window, while bedrooms pushed outward during the renovation now sit almost inside the garden canopy itself.

“When we moved in, the backyard was just sunshine from dawn to dusk,” Shez says. “Now it’s become this incredible rainforest.”

That garden has grown organically over five decades - alongside seven cats, two dogs, a guinea pig and, famously, 18 frogs raised from tadpoles by the grandchildren before being released back into nearby Trumper Park.

New chapters and storytelling continued to evolve here. Bill and Shez launched the 18 Foot Skiff Grand Prix, which was their business for 11 years. In the late 1990s, they created Cahoots.com.au, a platform dedicated to documenting personal and family histories. It became a natural extension of the life already unfolding within the house itself - one built around conversation, gathering and shared experience.

“At 105, the volume of music and the raucous behaviour have mellowed,” Bill says. “But the joy of life has continued to live strong.”

For all its history, the home remains remarkably liveable. Four well-separated bedrooms unfold across three levels, while generous storage, multiple bathrooms and flexible spaces have allowed the terrace to evolve seamlessly alongside family life. Even the boys’ teenage escape routes - scaling balconies and fences after curfew - have become part of the mythology.

“We only found out years later,” Shez says. “Apparently they were climbing in and out while we sat downstairs watching television.”

Now, after more than five decades, the decision to leave has been emotional. Bill pauses at the thought of finally selling.

“I’m worried Cecil’s ghost will come roaring down Underwood Street on an out-of-control camel,” he says, “screaming: ‘You can’t go, you can’t go.’”

View the listing: 105 Underwood Street, Paddington