The Longest Week

I knew that our project would have its ups and downs, but the last week has been unbelievable.

It began last Wednesday. We were a week away from a decision on our planning permission and we still hadn't had a site visit from the officer in charge. Dr B telephoned the planning department to explain we were about to go away on holiday and would be away during the decision date and enquired whether they might like to come and have a look while we were still available to let them into the house.

The planning officer said he'd probably come out with the council tree officer. Dr B referred to the tree survey - the officer admitted he'd never read it. You heard that right - he'd never read it. He'd set the project back 8 weeks, he'd consulted our neighbours about its contents but he'd never actually read it himself.

I could have cheerfully wrung his neck, but mindful of the need to 'keep him sweet', we arranged for him to come and have a look on Thursday morning - which was bad timing as Ella had a friend over to play for the morning, which meant I had to bribe them with chocolate to keep them quiet.

So the officer turns up with his tree man. I asked him why he'd brought the tree officer and he said he didn't always believe what was written in tree surveys. By now, my blood was boiling but I was still managing to smile and keep my hands from around his neck. He stood in the back garden with his clipboard and pointed out all of the other things we could have done rather than extend over the garage, which is odd when you see the amount of space over the garage just dying for an extension and the space across the back of the house that we really don't need to enlarge.

The tree officer advised that the trees were no problem - but we already knew that. The planning officer climbed onto the coal bunker to look at the neighbour's garden, which wasn't quite as close to our house as he'd previously thought - the neighbour's house being slightly higher up than ours, which he'd failed to appreciate despite us telling him on the phone. And then he came into the house.

Now bear in mind, this guy is employed to interpret plans - we're standing at the window of bedroom 3 and I'm showing him the view over the house backing onto our western boundary - the house you can't actually see because of the trees but who's owner has objected to our plans on the grounds we might be overlooking him. And this planning officer is continuing to tell me what else we might do once he's refused the planning permission (which I've pinned him down on - yes, he's going to refuse it) and yet despite this, he insists he's standing in bedroom 2 and he argues the toss quite vehemently until I'm forced to virtually drag him onto the landing and show him he's wrong, at which point he concedes he's mistaken.

And this goes on for quite some time, with him waxing lyrical about how we could knock down our porch and create a useless bedroom on the front lawn. Anything rather than extend over the garage. I gave up in the end. 'We'll have to beg to differ,' I said. 'We'll run with these plans - you can refuse them - we'll appeal.'

'An appeal takes eight weeks,' he says. 'If you just amend the plans as I'm suggesting, it will be much quicker.'

'But I don't like your suggestions. They are nothing like the plans we submitted. And anyway, a resubmission will take another 8 weeks so we might as well go for what we really want.'

'I could rush your plans through,' he says. 'It shouldn't be the way, but it's a case of he who shouts loudest. And I've never lost a case at appeal.'

Now this is odd, because I'm pretty sure our architect has told us that he was locked in a planning appeal with this particular planning officer not so long ago, and the appeal was allowed. I'm also lost for words that he's being so unprofessional as to trot out 'he who shouts loudest' to a punter. And what with him admitting not having read the tree survey, (which was never made available to view with our plans, as it ought to have been) and not believing tree surveys anyway, I'm starting to build quite a portfolio against the way this case has been handled.

'We'll go to appeal.'

'Well perhaps you can build over the garage afterall,' he says. The council don't like appeals - they cost time and money to administer and they are supposed to explore every other avenue rather than allow things to get that far. They are supposed to offer amendments to your plans - which is what this man thinks he's doing.

'So we can build the width and the height?'

'Yes but you need to set it back from the front elevation.'

'If we do that, we can't fit the bathrooms in.'

'I'll refuse it if you don't set it back.'

'On what grounds?'

'It would be detrimental to the street scene and to the original dwelling.

Now at this point I'm laughing because the existing house is so ugly that there's nothing you could do that would make it look any worse. And the neighbouring houses are set forward in the same way, which I point out, but he says is irrelevant because they haven't been extended.

'Ring me on Monday,' he says as he leaves. I rang a local councillor instead. I drove around the estate taking photographs of similar extensions and photographs of our 'street scene' and emailed them to myself for safe keeping. And then we went to Center Parcs.

Now I don't know whether you've been to Center Parcs at Longleat, but it's very hilly and very woody and as you can imagine, there's no mobile phone signal. Fortunately there's Wi-Fi internet connection and luckier still, we'd taken a laptop, so I was able to communicate with this councillor and our architect via e-mail, which I did every night for a week.

The councillor listened to our woes and asked for a resume of events over the last 16 weeks (planning permission taking 8 weeks, as you know). I supplied the resume. I also emailed the planning officer and his manager, the head of planning, attaching relevant photographs and arguing the case for our planning permission being allowed.

The head of planning emailed the councillor. The councillor asked for the decision to be suspended pending some sort of investigation, or else that the application be 'called in' and presented before the committee, at which I would have to present the case myself. The architect was steadfast - we were set for an appeal.

The decision date came and went. We continued to play mini-bowling and slide down the rapids and pretend all was well but my stress levels were through the roof. The planning officer still hadn't written his report and therefore hadn't made a recommendation. He'd read my email but it hadn't changed his views - he still planned to refuse it, but the head of planning was on leave and he'd been told to hang fire. Two more days went by.

We drove home from Center Parcs three days after the decision had been due, cheking our emails all along the motorway, chewing lips, wondering what was happening. Half an hour after we arrived, we received an email from the head of planning. They were approving our plans. They didn't like them but they would approve them.

Victory. Onwards!