Over the last few weeks, I’ve been learning all about the planning appeals process. It’s wonderfully fun.
My planning application for a One Planet Development was recently refused for the second time, and so it was time to appeal. This is not as easy as filling in a form. Of course not. It was bound to be as tedious and unnecessarily long winded as the application itself. The council made many points on their refusal, and so for an appeal I have had to answer every single one of these.
On going through the refusal, point by point, it became increasingly apparent that the planning officer had missed large chunks of my application, which is a polite way of saying they hadn’t properly read it, and most of the appeal process was therefore pointing out the pages and paragraphs in the original application that gave the information which they stated was missing.
Other points were things that were subjective assumptions, like trees can’t grow on my land, even though there is a natural woodland right next door to me and all around my land in areas that haven’t been heavily grazed for years, regenerating all by itself, with old willows and birches – the pioneer species – giving way to climax species such as oak and holly. I’m not entirely sure why the council assume that trees will point blank refuse to grow on my bit, barely feet away. I’ve also largely disproved their theory in that I’ve planted around 1500 trees and shrubs on my land and they’re all growing bang tidy. They say my land is poor. I say I’ll improve it with manure and compost. They say I can’t bring compost onto the land. I say I’ll use horse poo. They say the horses need to have a stone tablet with their grazing arrangements for all eternity written in hoof dust mixed with the blood of an eagle. I say that’s too difficult. “Ha.. gotcha..!” they say. Tick. Refusal.
The last type of refusal points were such, that a simple phone call could have clarified each tiny point, but as the council planning officers are allergic to phones and emails, this didn’t happen. Instead, the tiny reasons were added to the subjective reasons and they were added to the reasons that the planning officer forgot to read on the original management plan and application, and they all added up to a fortune for your old mate, the Pembrokeshire tax payer, who now has to foot the bill to send me to appeal.
Anyhoo. I did the appeal. I submitted. It was done. And it was good. Next day, along comes our old chum the enforcement officer, and bangs an enforcement on my workshop and goat keeping facilities. Oh and the polytunnel, where the veg lives. Oh, and the bicycle, my green runaround. Oh.. and the canoe, wot I collect the island eggs with in summer. They’ve also enforced agricultural items. Like the goat house. Goats are agricultural. Who the hell enforces goats? My workshop was designed and built to house bats, who have been spending the last few months taking full advantage of my hospitality. Now the enforcement officer says it will have to be repalced by a bat house. But they have a house. Yes, she said. They have to have a different house.
Just to be clear, it’s absolutely unheard of for a local planning authority to put an enforcement on an application when there’s an appeal in process. One has to wonder why I’m being beaten with a such a big stick.
Ok, so now we appeal the enforcement, and this is even stupider than the appeal for the decision itself. It’s basically more of me saying lots of stuff that I’ve already said in the decision appeal. If I win the decision appeal, then the enforcement falls away automatically. So what exactly is the point in enforcing me? All it does is slow down the process. Decision appeals take 21 weeks. Enforcement appeals take 40 weeks. As they have to run concurrently, I’m looking at at least June, which really plays in my favour, if I’m honest, ‘cos the place always looks blimmin’ lush at that time of year. The site visit should therefore go pretty well.
The grounds for appealing the enforcement, are that the planning should have actually been granted in the first place. Councils have fallen down many times with this and OPDs. They usually lose. The expert eyes that have gone over my application, my refusal, my appeal, and my enforcement, have all given the opinion that I’ll win. So what’s going on? Are the politics in county hall so entrenched in picking on hippies that the climate emergency which they declared in May is being ignored? When I see a row of beautifully mature beech trees cut down to make room for a new executive home in Clunderwen, and then I get told my application isn’t eco enough, frankly, that kind of p***es me off.
As usual, and as has been well documented over the years, all is not well at PCC. Corruption is rife. Every local has heard at least one back-hander story. It seems that if your face fits, or if you’re willing to perform certain tricks, you can build all manner of concrete atrocities on agricultural land, or in the open countryside. Even retrospectively. And then the council say they don’t have the means to enforce retrospective developments. They do if they were put up by poor people. But basic planning advice that’s given to to rich businessmen, by planning officers, yes, the same people who are giving me this agro, is build it, and they won’t have the resources to fight it. I know.
The good thing about this appeal, is that it will be a public hearing, so my objectors will have to come and face me. More to the point, they’ll have to face my mum. Think Peggy Mitchell after a stressful extended Christmas episode that centred around some drama at the Queen Vic. That’s about how upset, angry and dangerous my mum is right now.
So what do we do? It’s too late for me to play the following games, but you can. And I know you all want to do what I’m trying to do, because you all keep telling me. So here’s the way to do it.
There’s a thing called the four year rule. If you can get hold a of a bit of land, build a place, and live there for four years, you can then apply for a license to make it legit, and you basically have planning. The idea is that if you’re low impact enough to get away with being somewhere unnoticed for four years (ten for a non permanent structure, like a caravan) then you may as well be allowed to stay there. A lot of people round here have done that. More than you’ll ever know. So if you’re struggling with the housing crisis, and you don’t mind roughing it a bit, find some land, and go for it. One rule. Make sure you have no neighbours.
As Jean-Paul Sarte once said “Hell is other people…”
Postcards from the Hedge 