By Anne Southern
WITH our scaffolding coming down, spelling the end of our building misery, I noticed driving round the Island, just how many houses are covered with scaffolding and wonder just how much stress and anxiety are concealed within.
I really feel for all those who suffered horrendous storm damage, and are still not back in their homes. Why do some feel that the work hasn’t even started let alone been finished – what stories of obfuscation and delay have they been told? I feel their pain at having their lives disrupted by not being able to occupy their homes.
I have hesitated to share our own story as our disruption was self-inflicted, and really comes into the category of first-world problems. But it is something that anyone who has had major building work done in this island might recognise, and a cautionary tale for anyone contemplating home improvements.
How nice it would be, I thought, if we could convert our black hole of a loft into an en-suite bedroom – no more treks involving stairs in the middle of the night, and a bit of privacy when family come to stay. I researched a company in England who could build the extension in their factory, ship it over, pop it on, a few weeks interior work and Bob’s your uncle.
We had the work scoped, no problems were raised, and we went ahead to get planning permission. I’ll pass over those problems; on a sunny September day in 2022 we left the planning meeting with our project passed.
Then the architect casually dropped the bombshell that we were also looking at a large sum for additional building work, plus bathroom fittings and decoration. But having already committed a few thousand, including a hefty architect’s bill for taking us through the planning phase, we started tightening our belts and paid our deposit. Perhaps we should have cut our losses at that stage.
In December, while visiting family in Yorkshire, we visited the shell of our extension in the factory – so far so good. It looked a good size and we chose upgraded doors and fittings. We expected it to be brought over in May and by July all would be ready for our summer visitors. Then began the process of getting it passed by building regulations, which involved an asbestos survey, an energy report and another hefty architect’s bill – oh, and also the news that we needed to replace all our doors with fire-resistant ones, and we would need to move a bedroom door and install an extra window to get the right head height. Our May date was moved to July and then August. The process of changing and moving doors made for an uncomfortable and expensive July.
The August date came and went – the company blamed the scaffolder who blamed the company who blamed the Battle of Flowers for traffic problems – it was the end of September before the modules were finally in place and, though the builder we had commissioned was no longer available, the company got their local contact to step in. Then followed a sunny week when – nothing happened.
Thus began a saga of hoping, often in vain, that workers would come when they said they would, and co-ordinating the tiler, the plumber and the builder, all over-stretched and juggling too many jobs. We weren’t the only customers who felt the project manager was like the Scarlet Pimpernel. Eventually, a staircase was put in and plastered – then the building inspector said that though the head height was OK for a loft conversion, this was a loft extension. So all the plaster work had to be cut out for the ceiling to be raised.
Our miss-sold bathroom was another story. The shower screen we had ordered would not go up the stairs – eventually we had to hire a crane to get it through the window – a nail-biting operation. The back-to-wall toilet wouldn’t go into the wall and needed extra carpentry. The base for the hand basin needed to be cut out by a stone mason.
The next bombshell – we needed several thousand pounds-worth of extra scaffolding for building work to be completed – the scaffolder was unwilling and went on holiday, then the builder went on holiday – but somehow, to cut a very long story short, after many sleepless nights, the scaffolding was up and the building work was done. Would we be finished for Easter?
No. Our bedroom was mouldy where water had got in. More scaffolding was needed to finish the chimneys. The company workers finally finished tiling the roof, but there was still a wire hanging down and missing metalwork – the project manager went on holiday.
Here we are, two years on, just about finished, and as everyone kept telling us it would be, it is lovely. But was it worth the stress, the depletion of our savings, and 18 months of belt-tightening? Maybe, like childbirth, you forget the pain.
Now for repairing the storm damage to sheds and fences – so it goes on…
