Battles

The battle for our house began long before we found it.

There was a long, hard-won battle between Sketch Architects (the firm who helped the original landowner design and obtain planning permission for the house), and the local planning authority.

Then, after we found and put in an offer for the plot, the battle lines were redrawn, and it was over to us. There were battles with building societies to loan us the money, battles with neighbouring properties to put in place party wall agreements (we were asked by one to make sure we were adequately protecting local nighttime creatures… yup), and now the ongoing, seemingly never-ending battle with building control.

Building Control, I now know, are not interested in design aesthetic. No are they are not interested in your clever little niches, quirky windows or skylights… nope. They want to know how smoke will escape, whether you have adequate escape routes in case of fire, whether your home is insulated to the latest new standard, whether your materials are fire retardant, and that it won’t fall over when the next storm hits.

The safety of our family will always beat a ‘clever little niche’, so, although you still fight the battle, you know that the compromises are worth it.

This, however, leaves me with a lingering thought.

With the level of questioning they have brought to us on this little(ish) build project, and the level of proof we (I say 'we', but you know who’s doing the work) have had to provide, it makes me question what on EARTH happened with Grenfell. How on earth were the developers able to pass building standards when the combination of materials used was so flammable, and guidance already stated that the cladding should not be used in buildings of that size or height?

The safety of the residents and the 72+ people who lost their lives in that fire were not a priority. The lives of residents in one of the wealthiest boroughs in the world were not a priority. The lives of residents, most with brown skin, with roots outside of the UK, from poor socioeconomic backgrounds were not a priority.

The reality of why so many families lost their lives, why people lost their loved ones, belongings and homes that night hits so hard. The fire happened when I was a week away from giving birth to my daughter and I felt huge and helpless. And 3 years later…. I feel less huge. But still so f-ing helpless.