So finally, after three attempts, we have finally managed to secure planning permission to turn our funny little bungalow into something that might fit the Four Little Seymours, plus all their associated paraphernalia. Oh, and the Big Seymours, too.
WHOOP! WHOOP!
There were times when the whole thing looked like a bit of a lost cause. The council, it seemed, preferred the bungalow in its dated, slightly dilapidated and wobbly state, to the modern, more ecological upgrade we had in mind.
But they have seen sense! And on P-Day (like D-Day but not quite so important), 24th September 2015, they granted us permission to unleash armageddon on our home.
It will be tough. It will be messy. It may even be dangerous. In fact, I won’t try to pretend that it will be anything other than just plain awful. But we’ve done it before. I am sure we can do it again… ?
Well it’s too late now for doubts. We bought the place. We now have planning permission (hooray!), and this afternoon, the 26th September, less than forty eight hours after acquiring said permission, Big Bad Seymour himself has already kicked the whole process off by removing my porch. My porch! Gone!
He needs the rubble, he says. And he needs to “gun it out”, he says. I smile and nod, and consider asking more questions, but I think better of it, and just walk away.
I am sure he has a plan.
So, it has begun! It’s very exciting and terrifying, too. As for a time scale? Well, to have one would only set us up for disappointment. Therefore, I hereby vow that I am going to “go with the flow”. I shall not be stressed out by dust and rubble. I will not mind when the roof comes off. I shall endeavour to be supportive and not raise my eyebrows when I am required to make yet another cup of bleedin’ tea. I may even learn some new skills. I’ve always fancied having a go at plastering…
And in the process, maybe one day, in the very distant future, the Four Little Seymours will have a bedroom each.
Wouldn’t that be splendid!
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