How to take "No" for an answer

Yesterday I had one of those experiences where events seemed to be lived in slow motion, and every action/reaction is of critical import. You think I'm exaggerating.

For various reasons, I was in the Fylde yesterday. I don't know it well but am now better acquainted with it and very impressed. I've never been keen on flatness, landscape-wise, but perhaps because of the time of year, the lack of undulation in the land was more than made up for by the general fecundity of the fields and hedgerows and the beautiful, mature trees in full flower. The different shades of green of the fields were sharply defined by the hedges, lime greens, yellow greens, emerald greens, all decorated with weddingy mayblossom. Bliss to be alive.

I know this scene-setting is over the top but I have to convey the general magic of the day. At around 3pm I fell upon a house, modest but fine. It was delapidated and the garden was overgrown and I thought what an atmospheric shot it might make so I began to set up the tripod. As I was doing this, a man in a nice car stopped and enquired whether I was bird watching.
"No, I just like the look of the front of this house."
"You like the look of the front, you should see the inside, it's 'as was', amazing stuff, the kichen in particular is like a time warp, old crockery and cutlery covered in dust, the servants bells still on the wall" etc etc etc
Now fellow photographers will understand the surge of adrenaline I experienced at this point. The idea that the shoot of your dreams is right under your nose, heaven sent as it were. I could hardly get the words out of my mouth as I asked him if he knew who owned it.
'Yes, you see that red brick house on the left, 'she' owns it" He pointed to a house about 400 yards down the country lane.
I told the man the reason for my excitment, ie, that I was doing a photographic project on kitchens and this would be an unbelievable opportunity.
He drove off and I took a couple of quick shots with the digital of the front of the house (one for you to see above). Then I dashed back to the place I was visiting, dragged a comb through my hair, flashed some lipstick at my lips, grabbed my student card and a business card from my handbag and set off to that great citadel, The Red Brick House.

I know it sounds cliched but it's true, I opened a squeaky wrought iron gate and walked up the overgrown garden path to the last frontier, the front door. The house was a large one and there were several outbuildings and greenhouses to the side. A farm it was really, I suppose. No one answered the door and I hadn't heard the bell ring. I knocked firmly on the door. Nothing. I walked around the back of the house to see if someone was in the back garden. Nothing. I shouted "Hello" (strange to hear you own voice break the silence on someone's private property). Again, nothing. I got back into my car and as I was using the side entrance to turn around, Lo and Behold, the front door opened.....

A merry, grey haired lady of about 70 trotted down the path smiling at me.
"Did you want me love?"
Needless to say, this light and airy greeting boded well for my quest and I became my pleasantest self (a rare event).

I apologised for troubling her, explained my reasons for calling, produced my student card, smiling all the while only for her to smile in return and say -
"ooh, no love, it's not suitable for photographing really, it's been let go, it's covered in dust, a ruin really, in fact it's due to be demolished.

Needless to say, all this increased, rather than dampened my ardour. I explained to her quite why it was important to record what was there for social historical reasons and how I would give her a full set of prints etc etc etc.

She repeated that "no, it really wasn't suitable"

Now I am known generally for being the opposite of pushy, but in the face of such a prize, I perservered. I tried again. "No".

What more can you do in these situations? she was a really nice lady, I was a really nice lady, but we were destined not to see eye to eye. I felt that a complete retreat was better than any further requests, so thanked her for her time and left, smiling sadly.

I am going to write to her though, just in case she changes her mind in the next few months. Too late for my project but worth a try anyway.