I found a house available to rent. I looked at my finances. Not a hope. So I looked into Universal Credit, like the council advised me to when they told me I have to leave my super cheap eco residence that I build out of swamp and that costs nothing to live in.
Guess what? Because I’m self employed, and I own a bit of ex swamp, then the amount of UI I’d be able to claim wouldn’t be enough to keep me in teabags, let alone rent a house and pay all the bills.
So of course, this leaves me where exactly? The council are dying to classify me as homeless. I’m not sure why, because with that status the only place on offer to live is in the hostel in Pembroke, about 50 minutes drive from the livestock. It’s a bit rich refusing me OPD because I’m not considered eco enough and then attempting to force me to to drive 60 miles a day to my place of work.
The lady who put me on the council housing list actually said to me, and I quote, “It sounds like you have a smallholding there. Is a council house really right for you?” This was of course after telling me that I’d never get one. Because there aren’t any. And I know there aren’t any. I’ve lived in a field for five years. I’m fully aware of the lack of affordable housing.
My reaction to all of this has been to move my caravan. Not off my plot. But further onto it. Onto a bit that you couldn’t drive onto in October when I brought the caravan here. I’m now next to the dried up pond, down in the space where I was planning to build my house. It’s like being on holiday. I’m legit able to stay here until february, so I may as well have a good time.
Last week I took the plunge and made an official complaint to the architect next door’s firm. I was shaking as I wrote it. It’s not in my nature to write Karen-esque letters to complain. The response came quickly, and was basically a very long rambling excuse for not having planning permission on his cottage, by telling me all about how I should have applied for planning permission before I spent any time and energy on my project. Then he asked if I have an herbs for sale. I’m not making this up, honest. Sorry we made you homeless, but are you still planning to sell cheap plants? In answer, yes, I am still selling cheap plants. Just not here. I’m selling them in South Pembs where the neighbours appreciate it. I would be selling cheap plants right next door to you, had I got Planning. However, that’s a decision that you took. Garden Centre next door or not? Hmm. I’ve decided not. Well, there we are then. You don’t get no herbs.
He also told me that it’s a myth that there is corruption in the council regarding planning. It’s not a myth. The myth that it’s a myth is spread around by the people who don’t want the layman to know what really goes on, because they think we’re stupid and that people don’t talk.
I’m not sure if RIBA will do anything about his transgressions. He said that the other things I’ve mentioned, ie, landlord registration, septic tank issues, Energy Performance Certificate, have either been “sorted” or will be after Covid. No details. I can assume from the way he fights about his right to keep his cottage and not need a Certificate of Lawfulness, that he would fight to defend himself in all matters. I can only surmise, then, that he isn’t registered as a landlord, and hasn’t registered the dodgy septic tank, and doesn’t have an energy performance certificate, among other things.
It feels weird to get all Karen, and do the reporting thing. But needs must, when the devil vomits in your kettle, as they say. I’m not really prepared to sit back and let this injustice go. The only reason the neighbours here got away with all their planning transgressions, is because no-one grassed them up. I still haven’t had a satisfactory answer from the council about how they came to the decision to grant retrospective planning on the four stables to the bungalow next to the architect. And I won’t get an answer. In the same way that they just shrug when I ask if they’re going to enforce the rental property next door. They’re not going to, of course. They only enforce people they think they can get away with enforcing.
The architect’s letter also contained a warning to take down my structures before the deadline. Not a trace of irony. To quote Blackadder again. Irony. It’s like goldy and bronzy, only it’s made of iron.
Like my resolve, Mush.
Postcards from the Hedge 