- The Guardian,
- Wednesday December 20 2000
Five years ago "Peter" bought 20 hectares (50 acres) of West Country woodland for £30,000. Instead of a bathroom, he has a stream to wash in. Rather than a flush loo, he has a compost toilet. People might say he's roughing it, but Peter says he's simply combining the old ways with the best of the new.
A tarpaulin is the only protection from the elements. The main "room" is a part of the woods. He also has two comfortable "benders" - traditional gypsy dwellings with tarpaulin cover over bent hazel poles, with a raised floor. Mod cons include phone, laptop and email.
Peter has never made a secret of living in the woods and has a good working relationship with neighbouring landowners, who are helping him try to establish a new public footpath across the woods. "What is the point of having these magnificent native woodlands if they can't be shared," he says.
But neither does he - and a growing number of people who have taken to building their own "green homes" - advertise his presence. A sympathetic local planner received a complaint about him but advised Peter to keep his head down and get on with it. He can see a value in what Peter's doing. "If I had to chase every hippie out of a wood round here I wouldn't be able to get my job done," he says. But not all planners take that attitude.
For the meantime, Peter is content to manage his wood, understanding that some day soon, even though he owns the land, he may have this most modest home pulled down under a planning enforcement order.
Woodland is popular for many renegade builders. It's easier to keep out of the way and there's a supply of heating and building material. As soon as the issue of planning permission comes up, though, the problems start. On advice from planners, council committees are ruling that the vast majority of those who do this are illegal.
Those that build first and answer questions later are forced into hiding. But the longer they are resident, the more likely they'll be able to stay, so there are many people around the country keeping their heads down.
Simon Ormerod built without permission. With a lifelong interest in renewable energy, he set out in 1994 to design a house that didn't need mains gas or electricity. The planners refused to answer his written requests. On his second attempt to get planning permission for his earth-sheltered dwelling near Wadebridge, Cornwall, he went to see the local director of planning, who was less than sympathetic. "Try this and I'll have you out within a fortnight," Ormerod was told.
When he was finally granted planning five years later, one of the councillors on the committee wanted to know why he didn't ask first. "I did, but you turned me down twice," he replied.
Cotswold sculptor Jack Everett and his partner, Emma Iveson, wanted to build their own home. Seventeen years ago they bought a disused quarry and woods for £1,000. They are determined to look after the land and make it the permanent family home.
Three wooden buildings have been built since - a comfortable tai chi practice space, a studio and the couple's modest home. Strong wooden piles support tiered floor spaces within the steep sloping quarry. Woodburning stoves, fed from the surrounding woods, keep the open-plan spaces warm. Water is harvested from the roofs, stored in tanks under the building and pumped up to the bath, hot tub and sauna. Sheep's wool and thick cork insulate the walls, floors and roofs of the buildings, and a low-flush composting system deals with kitchen and human waste.
Over the years, they've spent about £25,000 on the three buildings. "Since we both live and work from the quarry, that's not bad," Everett says. "The difficulty is that the renewal of temporary planning permission creates phases of corrosive insecurity.
"The planners can force you to take it down or return it to the state it was in before you repaired it. Or they will do it themselves, then charge and fine you out of existence."
They are now living openly with their three children in the quarry, but back in the early 90s it was a clandestine existence. Today, they're good friends with their neighbours and they have a comfortable home, but the fear of demolition remains.
Tony Wrench's turf-roofed home in the Pembrokeshire national park, Brithdir Mawr, was spotted by planners from the air in October 1998. He and his "lost tribe" have been given notice to pull the house down by local planners. Now that he has appealed, the Welsh Assembly looks set finally to decide its fate.
But help may be at hand. Ecological criteria can now be used when considering the "sustainability" of projects, and legally binding conditions can be put on planning permission. The 15 criteria drawn up by planning consultancy Chapter 7 is being increasingly seen as a test for rural development. They take into account car use, effect on the landscape, building materials, water and other utilities, biodiversity and social accountability.
The criteria will be an acid test for planners and volume developers alike. Only if they're prepared to explore the use of well-defined ecological standards such as these will they gain "sustainable"credibility.
For those who decide to build, the rewards can be a long time coming. Members of the Kingshill community, near Glastonbury, who have been living in fear of eviction from their own land for more than six years, have only just got full planning permission.
• The Chapter 7 website is at www.oneworld.org/tlio/chapter7/
