It’s a problem faced by homeowners all over Britain. You spot a job that needs doing and make a mental note to sort it - then remember that your house is listed. And that’s where life can start to get complicated.
Our own task seemed simple enough: replace the ugly 1970s window at the back of our house with a set of french doors in keeping with the style of the rest of the building. The house is a Grade II listed 1820s Regency Gothic affair in Brighton and it had always bugged me that someone had installed a cheap, featureless window in the kitchen. It’s the sort of thing you would expect on an old caravan, its rusty sills sealed with gaffer tape to stop draughts.
I thought I was on solid ground. I had employed a very good architectural services firm with experience of conservation work to do the drawings and they had made several recommendations based on common practice throughout the rest of the UK. Common practice in the rest of the country, however, is not common practice when it comes to my house. Each listed house is assessed on its merits which, in my case, means that the work has to be done to very exacting standards indeed.
But surely anything had to be better than the existing eyesore, right? Wrong, according to the conservation office of the planning department. It wants perfection or nothing at all, it seems to me. I should say that the conservation office has been very helpful, pointing out details that we had missed and advising us on the exact shape of the windows. In other areas its requirements stopped just short of asking me to wear a powdered wig and for my wife, Claire Lachlan, to sit embroidering in the evenings by the light of a tallow candle while exclaiming “Oh, Mr Barrowcliffe, they say a new bachelor has moved to town”.
The real sticking point is double glazing. Our architects recommend conservation-grade double-glazed panels for the door; the conservation office wants single panes of exactly the sort that made Jane Austen shiver with cold. The problem is that the double glazing will require very slightly thicker glazing bars than were used in the Regency period and will be sealed by beading instead of putty. But a glazing bar is a glazing bar, isn’t it? Can anyone spot the difference between a bar 1cm thick and another of 1.25cm? Apparently, yes.
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Absolute authenticity is the prime consideration, never mind that the back of the house will be bleeding heat at a rate injurious to both my wallet and the ice caps. Single panes it is. The door manufacturers are flummoxed. They have never come across anyone demanding single glazing before. We are a special case, it appears, and get to pay special-case prices. Lucky us. The doors will cost about £4,000 to make, if we have the secondary glazing. Only one of the three manufacturers we approached is willing even to contemplate building them in single panels. They say this will be more expensive than £4,000, and promised us a quote. However, the last we heard from them was more than three weeks ago. What happens if they decline to make the doors, I asked the people who drew up our plans. “Er, let’s cross that bridge when we come to it,” they said.
Is there any way of fighting this and saving the planet, along with my bank account? Well, I could go to the Government - in this case Hazel Blears, Secretary of State for Communities and Local Government - but frankly I cannot be bothered. Or I could go back to the conservation officer and just plead. Apparently it’s been known to work if you can convince him or her that your work cannot be done in any way other than the one you are proposing.
I suppose, when it comes down to it, I know that the conservation office is right. I might be proposing only tiny deviations from strict historical accuracy, but if you allow those where does it end? And it is protecting the value of the house. I acknowledge these things, albeit grudgingly. It’s the price you pay for living in an unusual home.
So it seems I am stuck with either the 1970s window or accepting single glazing. Well, it’s got to be warmer than gaffer tape - though I wonder whether it’s warmer than gaffer tape with a towel spread on top. Perhaps that’s how they did it in the 19th century.
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LISTED BUILDINGS: WHAT TO DO, AND WHAT NOT TO DO
DO
Talk to organisations that specialise in your house’s period, such as the Georgian Group (georgiangroup.org.uk), Victorian Society (victorian-society.org.uk) and the Society for the Protection of Ancient Buildings (spab.org.uk).
Consult English Heritage, which has an excellent website and a series of useful publications (english-heritage.org.uk). Get a professional to draw the plans. You do not necessarily need an architect; some architectural services firms can draw up plans for simple changes at low cost.
Ask the local conservation officer if what you are proposing is acceptable.
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Find out how and why you are listed. The listings are Grade I, II* and II, except in Scotland and Northern Ireland, where they are A, B and C. They all mean the same thing - that the building is of historical importance - and the rules are no more lax for Grade II buildings than for Grade I. Any work that alters the character of the building must be approved, but there will be a stated reason why the building has been listed: if your building has been listed for its exterior you will have an easier time altering the interior. You can see lists and obtain copies of individual entries at your council planning department and most local reference libraries.
DON’T
Just do it. You can be sent to prison or face an unlimited fine if you alter the building without consent. Councils can also take out an enforcement notice to make you return the building to its original condition.
Rush if you have got a big project. It is likely that proposals to be contained in the Heritage Protection Bill, which is due to be published this year, would make the consent process easier and speedier.