Upward ...

Fac ut gaudeam. - (Make my day.)

'Modern' Latin Proverbs

 

 

Another swift visit to Joana, our Arquitecta, to ratify and, in some instances, clear up one or two design issues. We have been exchanging floor plans at a rate of at least one a day, sometimes up to four, all in the interests of moving things forward speedily.

We don't lack enthusiasm for this project, but it is refreshingly agreeable to know that SHE is pushing US to "get a wiggle on!"

PDF's have been received, amended and returned several times, but there is no substitute for a one-on-one (one-on-two in our case) to thrash out the minutiae. The big stuff is easy to see on paper, but it becomes essential to discuss the apparent trivia.

"Why do we need this wall here?"

"Because the mezzanine noun:

1. first or lowest balcony
2. intermediate floor just above the ground floor

floor will end up at ground level if you take it away!"

"Oh, I see."

And so the discussion flows. Back and forth, back and forth. Very productive. Very sociable. Especially since the coffee is 'on tap' and a surreptitious ashtray (her establishment is considered 'public') is produced for our convenience. "Foul habit!" I hear you cry. Forgive me if I respond with "Ascendo tuum!" Up yours!

I don't see mention of the chimney I specifically asked her to retain, despite the fact that she warned at an early stage that she was renowned for NOT saving chimneys. I want my freakin' chimney and since I am paying I expect to get what I want!

The shrewd arquitecta rummages around in her desk drawer and, with a 'cat-got-the-milk' smile on her face, fishes this out and presents it to us ...

 

 

It dawns on me that I am on a loser here. I have always accepted that I don't know much about women, but it appears that I am equally ignorant about architects. Make that a woman architect and you begin to understand my total capitulation.

The frontage (in fact, the whole edifice) has been raised by about a metre and a half. This allows us to insert the mezzanine floor on which will be placed several bedrooms and bathrooms ('restrooms' for you lot across the pond). In the little houses as well as the larger one. The chimneys have all disappeared. In their place are 'dormer' windows. Makes sense, as they will serve the bedrooms on the mezzanine. And all these changes continue to retain the 'look' of houses in the region. Which, of course, was what I demanded in the first place.

I am sure I can find something to whinge about.

But nothing springs to mind just yet ...

 

Hurdles ...

I mentioned early on that I recognize there are hurdles, and we're going to achieve those hurdles. [Jan 22, 2003]

George W. Bush

 

 

Well, Dubya, I know what you were trying to say, even if others were completely flummoxed!

Joana, the Arquitecta, called to say that The Conservatory had bounced her submission showing the property divided into 4 distinct plots. They advised her that only a drawing with 5 plots, as shown in their original documents, would be acceptable.

The latest submission showing
FIVE distinct plots.

No big problem these days when everything is computerised. Flash up the computer and produce the same CAD diagram, but this time carved up into 5 distinct plots. That should take care of things. But can one be sure? Nothing, but nothing, seems to have gone smoothly with this venture.

Meanwhile, we have had more discussions with Joana about how she intends to draw up the plans for the next stage. There are little gotcha's gotcha: -jargon

A feature of something that tends to breed mistakes because it is both enticingly easy to invoke and whose outcome is completely unexpected.

that have to be considered. Like not showing a door or doors leading from one property to the other, despite the fact that we intend to knock together the first two and turn the middle one into an outdoor corridor-patio patio -noun

1. an area, usually paved, adjoining a house and used as an area for outdoor lounging, dining, etc.

2. a courtyard, esp. of a house, enclosed by low buildings or walls.

. We will leave this stage of the planning entirely in her hands. When the plans are accepted by the bureaucrats we shall go ahead and task the builder with knocking things together the way we want it.

Later - much later - we will submit plans showing the houses joined together and request their permission to go ahead with the build (that has already taken place). I am assured that getting them to accept the property as fewer than 5 distinct plots is fine after we have occupied the property; that they will then accept our submission and draw up new plans for their archives to reflect the changed status. Oh, really?

This should send the taxman and the electricity, water and sewage companies into paroxysms of ecstasy!

I ought to open a 'book' make book: -idiom

1. to accept or place the bets of others, as on horse races.

2. to wager; to bet.

with long odds, but I know instinctively that there isn't anybody 'sucker' enough to take my bet ...

 

FF ...

Our main business is not to see what lies dimly at a distance, but to do what clearly lies at hand.

Thomas Carlyle

 

 

Afew days ago, after checking her email, Maria informed me that "The solicitor says that our final papers are through." That is worthy of note, despite the fact that I've made light of the various delays we have suffered. City Hall, the local council and The Conservatory have been the latest 'flies in the ointment'. The solicitor we have hired to handle things at a local level hasn't been earning his crust either! He has our confidence, but has failed the acid test for how he conducts himself on a personal level. He has allowed the opprobrium directed at him by an elderly spinster in City Hall (the worst kind of bureaucrat!) to cloud his professional judgement. Much time has been wasted by the two of them, patting, placing and removing knives and hatchets from various parts of their bodies. And that is not to our satisfaction! Nevertheless, another fine Borba is called for!

Last week we had our first face-to-face with Joana, the Arquitecta (architect) we have hired. We met to discuss the completion of Phase-1 of her work. This is the phase where she has taken precise measurements of the inside and outside of the property and has committed it to paper, warts 'n' all. Fascinating! We hadn't quite realised just what we had acquired, nor how bad a condition it is in. But the juggernaut is rolling and we are as determined as ever to complete the project.

Drawing of the property
with precise measurements.

We'd already had preliminary discussions with the builder to whom we intend to give the job. He is local and is actually an 'honest-Joe' (Maria has had dealings with him for many years). However, he tends to set his own timetable, so 'lighting-fire-under-butt' is a skill that will need to be renewed and honed to perfection. We have agreed that the first order of priority is to erect a brand new roof over the whole structure, standing on independent pillars, so that we can rip out all the internal walls that we consider unnecessary. Tiles from the present roof and the fallen outbuildings will be re-used to preserve the original look. Joana has agreed that this is a good idea, but has warned that it is probably going to be necessary to rip out ALL the walls - interior and 3 outer sides - to save us many future headaches. Fine for her to say, but I didn't have any intention of building a new house! It looks like I am stuck with the decision, though, because the two women have ganged-up on me.

Our brief to Joana was that, the front façade, the roof 'style' and at least one chimney must be retained at all costs. Everything else was 'fair game'. We are unsure as to whether we ought to register the property as 5, 4, 3 or 2 residences. The tax man would prefer the first, of course. After much discussion we (all three of us) have agreed that 4 distinct residences should be registered, and that includes the one that has been shoe-horned between the buildings and which we intend to turn into a passageway/courtyard leading from the front to the rear. If we retain it as a distinct registered address there will be no problem converting it back into basic living accommodation if we decide to do so in the future. Which has meant a further document needed to be drawn up and presented to City Hall and The Conservatory. Which also means my up-beat opening paragraph can be viewed as slightly optimistic. There will be another delay. What's new?

The submission showing
4 distinct plots.

Briefly, before I move on to the next episode of the saga, our discussions with the architect also brought to light the fact that the local bureaucrats would accept an increased 'roof-space' of 20% without any requirement for planning permission, which effectively allows us to square-up the rear of the houses. We will lose a little off the length of the end house on the left, but gain a similar area by increasing its width. The other houses will gain massive amounts of living space. We were also informed that the measurements supplied by City Hall and The Conservatory show that the area in front of the property that has been neatly surfaced and claimed as a 'right-of-way' by the local council, is rightfully ours.

Our 'dirty little secret' for hiring Joana is that, not only is she a successful professional in her own right, but that she also 'free-lances' for the City Council. She knows precisely what will 'fly', and what won't, with the bureaucrats. Her advice in these matters is invaluable!

So, we are going to take it back without notifying anybody! It will still remain neatly surfaced and it will include the traffic island. We intend to build a low wall topped with a high wrought iron fence to enclose everything on our side. Two wrought iron gates at the extremities, wide enough to allow cars through to park off-road on our property, will complete the makeover. In our magnanimity we fully intend to leave the local council with the responsibility for the maintenance of their road!

I am assured that this is expected behaviour of property owners the world over. I hope so, or we will have the makings of another bureaucratic battle on our hands ...

 

Death ...

I wouldn't mind dying - it's the business of having to stay dead that scares the shit out of me.

R. Geis

 

 

I have deliberately chosen an irreverant quotation to start this topic. It is not my intention to make it a long post as the subject matter leaves me deflated.

The old lady in the second house died suddenly. Sure, she was knocking on a bit, but she appeared to be as healthy as the next person. No cause for celebration. We truly did not wish her on her final journey; indeed she may have become a welcome neighbour had our plans been allowed to move along a little more speedily. There is a little verse by Henry Worton that probably sums up this lady's latter years. It goes, "He first deceas'd; She for a little tri'd to live without him: lik'd it not, and di'd." I say 'probably' because I don't actually know that that was the case, but I prefer to interpret her sudden departure with poignancy rather than sadness.

No sooner had we managed to put that unexpected event behind us (time does heal, or at least it dulls the senses) when, a couple of months later, the old fella next door also passed away.

The old man was the father of the 'geezer' son I've mentioned in an earlier post. He got some of our sympathy, but the largest part was reserved for the old lady. We waited several months to find out what plans she had for her future. We wondered whether she, too, would move in with her son. It soon became clear that the son's filial responsibility didn't seem to stretch to his mother's wellbeing; only the property in which she lived. Eventually Maria paid her a visit to offer our belated condolences, fully aware that the visit could be construed as being slightly insensitive. As it turned out it was less traumatic for Maria than she expected. The old lady was relatively upbeat, readily accepted that her loss had an inevitability about it, considering their ages, and then timidly asked how soon it would be before Donna Maria moved in next door? She declared that living on her own, cut off from the rest of the village, was not to her liking. She really was a lonely old lady!

Maria asked her if she was prepared to move closer to her friends, if she could fix it. The old lady was delighted with the suggestion. Maria fixed it. She talked (persuasively) to one of the partner-directors about the possibility of allowing the old lady to move into one of the small houses that he had already bought, same terms and conditions, for as long as she lived. He agreed and the move took place soon after. What's more, the old lady was now moved into a house that was 'luxurious' compared to the one she was leaving. She even had an indoor bathroom and toilet, and she was amongst her old friends. Happy outcome, all things considered!

And for the less charitable of my readers, yes, we too came out ahead of the game!

But there is always a 'gotcha'. The price of the property , now vacant-possession, went up a tad.

H^mm_mm^mm_mm^mm ...

 

Headaches ...

Holding on to anger, resentment and hurt only gives you tense muscles, a headache and a sore jaw from clenching your teeth.

Joan Lunden

 

 

Well said, Joan Lunden, but I am sure that readers have had similar experiences so I am not going to write at length about each darned obstacle. I shall content myself with mentioning a couple of examples of how things conspired to delay our move forward.

Dealing wth the bureaucrats was a breeze compared to dealing with 'The Bank'. Not our bank, but one that popped up out of the blue to tell the company that they owed them big bucks and would they please pay up immediately - or else! This bank, which will remain nameless, was the product of 5 mergers over several years. As banks go they must be considered efficient, as they trawled through all the records of the previous mergers and started to collect outstanding debts.

Years prior to Maria becoming the company's main troubleshooter and 'Girl Friday', way back in the dim distant past, they had borrowed a relatively small sum of money for a project, from one of the defunct (and now merged) banks. Over a period of time, with banks disappearing and then re-emerging as something else, the company also overlooked the repayment of the loan. Each bank reincarnated compounded the situation by omitting to inform the company of its responsibility. The new bank were much more switched-on turkeys, and were now being total bastards about the matter. They not only wanted the capital sum repaid immediately, but also about 15 years of unpaid interest, which by now exceeded the capital sum by a huge amount. The weasel-wording-winkers even had the nerve to magnanimously offer to negotiate the repayment period and terms. This prickly little problem landed squarely in Maria's lap!

You might wonder how this affected us. Simple. The bank now had a claim on the company and made it clear that they were calling the shots. The unspoken ultimatum was, "Do it our way or we will foreclose." For Maria to be able to produce the money (that the company did not have readily available) she needed to sell off company assets, mainly agricultural plots. But each time she negotiated with a prospective buyer she needed to get the nod from the bank before she could close the deal. This soon became a marathon nightmare. Negotiate a price, check with the bank, get the nod, sell the plot, pay the bank. And they still hadn't begun to discuss the small matter of the outstanding interest!

You are probably ahead of me by now. I've hinted previously that we had negotiated a very favourable price for the property, based on several factors like sitting-tennants, condition of the property, the split in valuation between 'rural' and 'urban', and several other smaller 'gotchas'. But if that 'firm offer' was referred to the bank, we were certain that they would reject it. So we had to wait, and wait, and wait, until such time as Maria could slowly, inexorably, clear the company debt. Long story short, she eventaully did it, but it took what seemed like an eternity. The one thing she was determined to do was to ensure that she could present herself personally at the bank to make the final payment. This was so that she could show them 'the finger' and tell them to 'get out of her life'! I wish I could have been there. Banking in Portugal is still a male-dominated sphere, and they don't like dealing with a female. Less so when the woman has managed to outmanoeuvre them!

The furstrations we continued to experience can be highlighted by mentioning one other, concurrent, episode that impacted on everything that was happening at the time. Maria managed to negotiate the sale of a small plot of land adjoining 'our' property (always the optimists, us). The deal was with a local landowner who wanted that bit of land to build half a dozen units to rent. We weren't too worried about his plans because the rented houses would be separated from us by a wall several metres high that he was prepared to erect as part of the sale agreement. The sale was completed (jumping through the hoops I've recounted in the preceeding paragraph) and the new owner started to clear the area. Maria, always the 'wheeler-dealer', had a quiet word with him and he agreed to divert his tractor, for an afternoon, free of charge, to clear and level the back garden of the first property. We still didn't own it, but we've always been optimists - and tenacious!

 

  
  
  

 

Continuing the saga: the new owner of that newly acquired bit of land was duly notified by the local council that permission to build was being withdrawn. They, the council, had reappraised all the properties in that area and in their considered opinion building in that area was risky due to the tendency for the river to flood once every ONE HUNDRED years! The new owner immediately asked for his money back, naturally, and Maria was sent two paces backward in this infernal tango. The decision by the local council was eventually overturned, mainly because they had no hard evidence to substantiate their claim, other than 'Urban Legend', and that allowed the sale to go through. But all this tap-dancing was eating up valuable time. Weeks turned into months, and months into years!

We were beginning to wonder whether somebody had actually hatched some sort of Machiavellian plot against us ...