Hidden within the Victorian terraces of Catford, south London, are 187 single-storey pieces of history. These prefab bungalows, plus a tin-roofed church, make up the Excalibur estate, completed in 1946 and about to disappear for good.

Prefab estates, often sitting on valuable land, are increasingly expensive to maintain. Designed to shelter those made homeless by the war, more than 150,000 homes were assembled on local authority land between 1944 and 1949.

Despite being intended as a five- to 10-year stopgap, they proved popular. The generous two-bedroom designs, complete with hot water, kitchens and built-in wardrobes, offered a comfortable detached home to families who had often been sharing rooms in dilapidated Victorian properties. The pride that Excalibur’s residents still take in their homes is obvious in the bright paintwork, mock-Tudor beams, fancy fake mantelpieces and flock wallpaper.

The site is about to be redeveloped as houses and flats, after a campaign to get the whole site listed by English Heritage resulted in a compromise that protects only six prefabs. Even the chance of a new-build home is not enough to persuade many residents that this will be a change for the better. They have been sustained by the estate’s feeling of space, community and history – but for how much longer?

Julia Woods, 63

‘There’s a great sense of community’ … Julia Woods Photograph: Megan Taylor for the Guardian

“Moving here nine years ago was like coming to a little desert island. We’d had dreadful problems with noise and I couldn’t stand it any more. This was ground floor, no stairs, no noisy neighbours and we had a garden. We’d never had a garden in our whole married life. It was just pure bliss.

“I already had dealings with prefabs because I’d lived opposite some as a child. My friend lived in one of them, and going in there was like walking into a real-life doll’s house. Then they were terribly modern. When we were offered this, I just thought, ‘Yes, yes.’

“People say they’re old, they’re not very warm, but to me this is my home, my little castle. I have wonderful neighbours; there’s a great sense of community. I’d give up a brand-new mansion to stay here. That’s how I feel about it.

“I wish the whole estate had been listed, then they would have had to do repairs. Even today these are magical little buildings. I think they should be preserved whatever the cost. We’re eradicating part of history.”

Eddie O’Mahoney, 92

‘To move out of here … quite frankly, I’d rather be finished’ … Eddie O’Mahoney. Photograph: Megan Taylor for the Guardian

“I’d been demobbed from the army and my wife was living in some bomb-damaged property with the two children. When the council offered it, I immediately said, ‘I don’t want a prefab – I want a house.’ I’d had enough of living in tents and Nissen huts. They told me to go and look before I decided. We opened the door and my wife said, ‘What a lovely big hall! We can get the pram in here.’

“There was a toilet and a bathroom. I’d been used to a toilet in the garden. The kitchen had an Electrolux refrigerator, a New World gas stove, plenty of cupboards. There was a nice garden. It was like coming into a fortune. My wife said, ‘Start measuring for the lino.’

“The demolition is breaking my heart. I feel sick at the idea that the houses aren’t fit to live in. I’ve lived alone for 25 years. I could throttle the mayor of Lewisham when he says, ‘I want these people to have decent homes.’ There’s nothing wrong with my home. It’s quiet, it’s peaceful. I’d back my place against his any time.

“To move out of here… quite frankly, I’d rather be finished. If they want to evict a 92-year-old war veteran, good luck to them. I’ve been happy here, all my memories are here. Be honest: what will they offer someone like me? What I bought, I want to keep. I took a pride in this place. I loved it.”

Ian Goold, 59

‘it’s like a holiday camp all year round’ … Ian Goold. Photograph: Megan Taylor for the Guardian

“I will miss this estate. To me it’s like a holiday camp all year round. We all look out for one another. It’s a real close-knit thing. You don’t get that any more on estates.

“I’ve lived here 15 years. I applied to Lewisham, with my wife, and was offered this. It’s a brilliant little house. If the council would keep them and do them up I wouldn’t want to move. You tell me where in this country I’m going to get another detached property off the council.

“People do things to make them their own. That’s why they’ve fought so hard to keep them. I used to do all the decorating. I painted all the outside. I’ve done it three times. It’s due again this year but it just isn’t worth it. I just don’t care. What’s the use of spending money on it if I could be moving next week?

“I could move into one of the new houses but I don’t want to be here any more. The new estate’s going to be too big, too closed in. There’ll be three times the number of houses. I was brought up on an estate and they just get run down. I’m going to live down in Dymchurch in Kent, near friends and family. It’s time I moved out of London.”

Lisa Peirce, 39, centre

‘It’s really neighbourly, because everyone that lives here has been here for years’ … Lisa Peirce, centre. Photograph: Megan Taylor for the Guardian

“I lived over the road with Mum for 10 years, then I moved away. When my dad died I wanted to make sure she was all right, and I was able to rent the house across the road. It’s nice. It’s really neighbourly, because everyone that lives here has been here for years.

“They’re big, spacious. Everything is just enough. I’ve got an extension on mine with a dining room. The bedrooms are big. You’re not going to get a kitchen and a dining room like that in a new three-bedroom house. I wouldn’t want to move back into one of the new properties they’re building here. I’ve got animals, I’ve got three kids. At the moment they’re allowed to play out because I know everyone on the street. I won’t know everyone who moves into the new estate.”

Linda Peirce, 67

I’ve been here 17 years and I don’t want to move’ … Linda Peirce. Photograph: Megan Taylor for the Guardian

“When I bought the house we were never told that it was only for a certain amount of time. Maybe I would have had second thoughts if I had been.

“I’ve been here 17 years and I don’t want to move. Whatever they offer me, by the time you pay rent on a new place, how long will that money last? This house is for my kids and my grandkids. I wouldn’t be able to buy anything a similar size. I don’t really have a plan. I don’t want to make money but I want enough to buy another property. My son says, ‘We’re not moving, Mum – we’re staying.’

“At the end of the day they’ll have to build round me. I’m not shifting if I don’t get what I want.”

Pam Clifton, 83

‘I’m not moving. I shall lie down in front of the bulldozers’ … Pam Clifton. Photograph: Megan Taylor for the Guardian

“I’ve lived here 51 years. I’m not moving. I shall lie down in front of the bulldozers. I like everything: the space, the garden. Yes, if you turn the central heating off, they get cold, but prefabs are lovely.

“My daughter was five when we came here. She’s 56 now and she lives over the road. I don’t think they have any intention of rehousing us. We’d have to find our own places.

“People have been promised different things, that we’ll get a bungalow or whatever, but they haven’t even started building yet. If you’re a youngster I can see why you’d want to move, but I don’t know if I’m going to make tomorrow, that’s how I feel. I don’t have the strength to move.”