Four
On Monday I drive home from work thinking ‘ok, so the planner was back at work today – maybe, just maybe, he’s managed to pin the new planning permission request to the fence today’. Exceedingly unreasonable, I know, but a girl can HOPE. Fat chance… nothing on the fence, oak tree or posts… hmph.
On Tuesday there is still nothing from the planners, and on Wednesday I decide that it is all going to happen so I may as well start talking concrete… we’re going to need a base and it’s going to need concrete. I ring up a concrete company (seriously – you just search for ‘concrete’ in Yellow Pages!) and speak shed bases and cubic metres. Which is tricky as I still operate in feet… However, the nice patient lady at the end of the phone has clearly met people who Do Not Move With The Times and obviously has a handy converter gizmo. We guess at the depth between us and call it just over 3 cubic metres. £276. TWO HUNDRED AND SEVENTY SIX QUID. Just for concrete. I happen to mention that they’ll need to park on the (narrow) lane and could we have one of those conveyor arm thingys to get the concrete where we need it, and she says yes, no problem, that’ll be another £105. THREE HUNDRED AND EIGHTY ONE QUID. Maybe we’ll hire a mixer and a couple of shovels after all… She asks if we need it in the next week. I tell her we’ve been waiting for planning for 15 weeks and she says but it’s only a shed. Don’t even go there…
On Thursday – PROGRESS! No, really, PROGRESS! It’s SO exciting! I drive home from work to find the planning notification pinned to the fence. The fence of the farmer’s field. The fence of the farmer’s field opposite the neighbour’s house, not ours. So, that’s the wrong fence on the wrong side of the lane opposite the wrong house. I remove it and pin it to the oak tree. It doesn’t make sense (big surprise) so I concoct yet another explanation (longer this time to explain why it’s a re-application) and pin that to the oak tree too. Guy visits and we agree it is PROGRESS. We are so excited that the Malteser cake we are making joins in the fun and pops off all its Maltesers as we wrap it up… Still, at least things are moving and, whilst the original notice had to be up for 21 days to allow for objections (there weren’t any), we’ve been told this one only has to be up for 7 days. Except they’ve got it wrong, and it says it allows 21 days. That’s another THREE WEEKS. Given that nobody objected last time, and the application is for LESS garden this time, the nice planner (who I may have to Go Off Soon) definitely said 7 days would be plenty long enough. Obviously a typo… Would a Tippex amendment be illegal?
On Friday I phone the nice planner who says that as the plan has changed a lot (yes, it’s now half the size) they thought 21 days was reasonable. Actually, he says he thought 14 days would be ample but they can only do 7 or 21 and isn’t that silly? Not the word I’d have used, mate…. I am Little Miss Reasonable and say no, of course it’s ok we’ll just have to be patient won’t we? Odd how much of a conversation you can have through gritted teeth.
When I get home I move the planning notice and the explanation from the oak tree to our fence. At least that way it’s not in my eyeline every time I come in and out of the house – it’s making me A Little Cross. And that’s putting it mildly…
On Saturday Guy’s weekend paper supplement has a handy guide to the lovely extra room you can make in your garden by putting in a shed, and helpfully says that they don’t normally need planning permission! We take out our frustrations on a few weedy trees that will be in the way if we do ever put in a shed, and are rubbish trees anyway. So we pull them out. [Note to planner: we said we wouldn’t fell any trees. We didn’t. We uprooted them.] Guy goes off to a gig and I slump in front of trash telly. Ant & Dec are back with a new series and, guess what? The first ‘game’ is ‘Where’s your shed at’… AAAARRRGGGHHH!
Sunday morning finds us tramping round Caerphilly woods with the local Woodlands Trust group inspecting dormice boxes for, er, dormice. We find three woodmice and a lot of slugs… Not bad considering Guy has had about 5 hours sleep after his gig, and I’ve got the sore throat from hell and flu-like symptoms… obviously stomach related, only this time I don’t know what it is I’ve eaten to make myself ill… In the afternoon we have a definite middle-aged snooze after lunch, then Guy goes off to another gig and mum and I pick out Izzy’s stitches. She’s fine, apart from that bald patch. Izzy, not mum…
Achieved: Didn’t hit the planner. Quite an achievement, under the circumstances.
Hours worked: About 2 pulling out feeble trees. We call it ‘scrubland management’ round these parts…
Progress: We got a planning notice on the wrong fence on the wrong side of the lane outside the wrong house for 21 days not 7. We’re desperate enough to call that progress.
Shed plans: Yes, we do want a verandah – or at least a porch bit but not decking. It’s just as well we’ve had so much planning time really. Although, oddly, this is the exact design we spoke to Keith the Shed about in February…
Purchases: None.
Pressies: Nothing. Gin doesn’t count any more as it comes under the heading of ‘necessities’.
Plan: We have a New Grand Plan. See what happens when you have so much planning time? It goes something like this:-
1. Build shed. Could of course stop right here…
2. Move furniture from house to shed.
3. Build in extra storage for melodeons and guitars and redecorate entire house while furniture is in shed. Includes moving a bedroom wall…
4. Move furniture back into house.
5. Finish shed
6. Move Guy into house and spare furniture into shed
7. Celebrate with shed opening party. July 2013…
Health issues: I’m obviously eating something that’s making me ill… my throat’s been getting steadily worse all week and is now screechingly painful. I have a nasty feeling it could be the gin, so will have to give it up completely.
Can one survive planning without alcohol?
We shall see…
On Tuesday there is still nothing from the planners, and on Wednesday I decide that it is all going to happen so I may as well start talking concrete… we’re going to need a base and it’s going to need concrete. I ring up a concrete company (seriously – you just search for ‘concrete’ in Yellow Pages!) and speak shed bases and cubic metres. Which is tricky as I still operate in feet… However, the nice patient lady at the end of the phone has clearly met people who Do Not Move With The Times and obviously has a handy converter gizmo. We guess at the depth between us and call it just over 3 cubic metres. £276. TWO HUNDRED AND SEVENTY SIX QUID. Just for concrete. I happen to mention that they’ll need to park on the (narrow) lane and could we have one of those conveyor arm thingys to get the concrete where we need it, and she says yes, no problem, that’ll be another £105. THREE HUNDRED AND EIGHTY ONE QUID. Maybe we’ll hire a mixer and a couple of shovels after all… She asks if we need it in the next week. I tell her we’ve been waiting for planning for 15 weeks and she says but it’s only a shed. Don’t even go there…
On Thursday – PROGRESS! No, really, PROGRESS! It’s SO exciting! I drive home from work to find the planning notification pinned to the fence. The fence of the farmer’s field. The fence of the farmer’s field opposite the neighbour’s house, not ours. So, that’s the wrong fence on the wrong side of the lane opposite the wrong house. I remove it and pin it to the oak tree. It doesn’t make sense (big surprise) so I concoct yet another explanation (longer this time to explain why it’s a re-application) and pin that to the oak tree too. Guy visits and we agree it is PROGRESS. We are so excited that the Malteser cake we are making joins in the fun and pops off all its Maltesers as we wrap it up… Still, at least things are moving and, whilst the original notice had to be up for 21 days to allow for objections (there weren’t any), we’ve been told this one only has to be up for 7 days. Except they’ve got it wrong, and it says it allows 21 days. That’s another THREE WEEKS. Given that nobody objected last time, and the application is for LESS garden this time, the nice planner (who I may have to Go Off Soon) definitely said 7 days would be plenty long enough. Obviously a typo… Would a Tippex amendment be illegal?
On Friday I phone the nice planner who says that as the plan has changed a lot (yes, it’s now half the size) they thought 21 days was reasonable. Actually, he says he thought 14 days would be ample but they can only do 7 or 21 and isn’t that silly? Not the word I’d have used, mate…. I am Little Miss Reasonable and say no, of course it’s ok we’ll just have to be patient won’t we? Odd how much of a conversation you can have through gritted teeth.
When I get home I move the planning notice and the explanation from the oak tree to our fence. At least that way it’s not in my eyeline every time I come in and out of the house – it’s making me A Little Cross. And that’s putting it mildly…
On Saturday Guy’s weekend paper supplement has a handy guide to the lovely extra room you can make in your garden by putting in a shed, and helpfully says that they don’t normally need planning permission! We take out our frustrations on a few weedy trees that will be in the way if we do ever put in a shed, and are rubbish trees anyway. So we pull them out. [Note to planner: we said we wouldn’t fell any trees. We didn’t. We uprooted them.] Guy goes off to a gig and I slump in front of trash telly. Ant & Dec are back with a new series and, guess what? The first ‘game’ is ‘Where’s your shed at’… AAAARRRGGGHHH!
Sunday morning finds us tramping round Caerphilly woods with the local Woodlands Trust group inspecting dormice boxes for, er, dormice. We find three woodmice and a lot of slugs… Not bad considering Guy has had about 5 hours sleep after his gig, and I’ve got the sore throat from hell and flu-like symptoms… obviously stomach related, only this time I don’t know what it is I’ve eaten to make myself ill… In the afternoon we have a definite middle-aged snooze after lunch, then Guy goes off to another gig and mum and I pick out Izzy’s stitches. She’s fine, apart from that bald patch. Izzy, not mum…
Achieved: Didn’t hit the planner. Quite an achievement, under the circumstances.
Hours worked: About 2 pulling out feeble trees. We call it ‘scrubland management’ round these parts…
Progress: We got a planning notice on the wrong fence on the wrong side of the lane outside the wrong house for 21 days not 7. We’re desperate enough to call that progress.
Shed plans: Yes, we do want a verandah – or at least a porch bit but not decking. It’s just as well we’ve had so much planning time really. Although, oddly, this is the exact design we spoke to Keith the Shed about in February…
Purchases: None.
Pressies: Nothing. Gin doesn’t count any more as it comes under the heading of ‘necessities’.
Plan: We have a New Grand Plan. See what happens when you have so much planning time? It goes something like this:-
1. Build shed. Could of course stop right here…
2. Move furniture from house to shed.
3. Build in extra storage for melodeons and guitars and redecorate entire house while furniture is in shed. Includes moving a bedroom wall…
4. Move furniture back into house.
5. Finish shed
6. Move Guy into house and spare furniture into shed
7. Celebrate with shed opening party. July 2013…
Health issues: I’m obviously eating something that’s making me ill… my throat’s been getting steadily worse all week and is now screechingly painful. I have a nasty feeling it could be the gin, so will have to give it up completely.
Can one survive planning without alcohol?
We shall see…
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