Warning this blog entry contains some swearing because just occasionally the writing of a horrid little swear word releases a feel-good endorphin!
The wolves circle, continually watching, observing, and then with interest move in.
A light interest that underlies so many questions. A gentle prompt and prod to see what it reveals.
“You’re staying at South Road then?”
Translated it means; following your failed planning application you’re not moving then?
“Yes at the moment I’m staying” I then pause and think about how much I want to say and continue.
“Actually at the moment, I’m in the middle of my appeal…..” Silence.
Yes, the fucking appeal. It has been ticking away quietly in the background until today. Then like a fat beast, it raised its ugly furry head and messed up my mind and my everything.
As I write this my planning consultant, who is costing me nothing short of my divorce solicitor, is compiling the final appeal response in answer to the council’s statement and the neighbours who once again had to have their say. Mind you only three this time, against 81 before. I have actually refused to read or see the comments, I can’t bear it. I don’t want to know what has been said, and by who. I hate everyone who commented the first time, why would I want to hate them more?
It’s ok I will move on but tonight I want to vent. And my hate is only surface deep, I don’t have the energy to allow it to go further.
So why the anger today?
Today I learned that Swale Council has said they would consider a house but in a different location, size, and design.
WHAT, you never said this at the planning committee meeting. You never wrote this in your refusal document. You just said the proposal was an alien form. You gave me nothing to consider, re-address, re-design. NOPE, nothing, nada, no fucking piece of hope. So after lots of anguish, upset I decided I would go to appeal because I sought advice and we decided we had a chance at appeal because you had been so unreasonable.
Please note the word unreasonable. Yup totally, equivocally unjust and unfair. You played dirty and now at the 11th hour, you say perhaps you would allow a house.
Do you think I have thousands of pounds to employ an architect to re-design the house that I developed with your planning department in the first place, to meet your requirements, not mine? I compromised, I listened, I responded and I then submitted when you said you were happy.
You never cease to amaze me. And the wolves circle; the friends and acquaintances that want to know more. All amazed at my silence, my dignity held during a war that raged around me in January, February, and March 2016. Posters, online comments, articles in papers, neighbours’ downward gaze, local councillors siding with residents. The snowball just gathered momentum until in the end no one knew what they were fighting but they just joined the fight.
In the aftermath when the local’s battle was won, some people were astounded at the behaviour of some and apologised directly. Many were shocked and said they didn’t know what all the fuss had been about.
The inspector visits here on August, 9th and then we await his response to this farcical process.
And just for the record, I am fucking furious, pissed off, mad, and annoyed that I have been made to go through this and now read comments from the council about what they may permit. You bunch of planning tossers, playing with people’s emotions, expecting them to keep paying for more plans and to back down after I committed to the appeal process. How dare you.
May I see justice done, may the inspector rule in my favour because Swale Planning department doesn’t know their arse from their elbow and it will be an act of incompetence if the appeal goes in their favour.