Renovation Planning, Where Logic Goes to Die
We haven’t even got the keys yet, and already the list of things we can’t do is longer than the list of things we might one day possibly do if all goes well and nobody cries.
Turns out, doing things in the right order is important. Unfortunately, the right order is always:
- Unknown
- Impossible
- Entirely dependent on something else you haven’t done yet
- Guarded by a family of spiders and a structural engineer with a six-week waiting list
Let me walk you through it.
Step 1: Put solar panels on the roof
– Can’t.
– Need to know if the roof’s staying on.
Step 2: Redo the roof
– Can’t.
– Need to know if the structure beneath it is sound.
– Also need planning permission if we go higher.
– Also need scaffolding. Which needs access. Which needs groundworks. Which need…
Step 3: Check the roof structure
– Can’t.
– The loft hatch is sealed by either paint or spite.
– Also not safe to crawl around up there ‘til we know if the joists are up to it.
– Also it’s full of wasps. Probably.
Step 4: Insulate under the floor
– Can’t.
– Need to know what the floor’s made of.
– Can’t lift the floorboards without knowing how they’re fixed.
– Can’t take up the floating floor until we’ve got somewhere to stack it.
– Can’t stack it outside in case it rains.
– It will rain.
Step 5: Install the heating
– Can’t.
– Need to know what rooms are what.
– Can’t plan the rooms until we know where the plumbing can go.
– Can’t move the plumbing until we know the state of the drains.
– Drains currently accessed via a manhole hidden beneath 17 bags of gravel and a sleeping dog.
Step 6: Get a quote from a builder
– Can’t.
– “Too early to quote,” they say. “Call us back when you’ve got drawings.”
– Can’t get drawings ‘til you’ve made decisions.
– Can’t make decisions ‘til you’ve spoken to a builder.
At this point, the house is still locked, nothing’s been touched, and you’re three brews deep into a spreadsheet titled “Master Plan: V14 Draft (Realistic This Time)”.
You’ve watched 42 hours of YouTube about breathable membranes.
You’ve spoken to three retired joiners.
You’ve pinned a sample of lime render to your vision board.
Still can’t do anything.
The Grand Conclusion
Every single job at Hedera Cottage is patiently queuing behind another one like it’s in a very British line for a bacon butty.
But that’s alright. Because one day, the keys will turn, the door will swing open, and we’ll get cracking…
…just as soon as we figure out where to put the kettle.
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