Wrong side of the fence
Not long after the Berlin Wall was erected in 1961, the East Berlin radio station, Ops, played the Cole Porter song Don’t Fence Me In as the theme tune for its nightly broadcasts. It is a poetic anthem. Who could resist the line ‘Let me be myself in the evening breeze, don’t fence me in’? It took almost three decades for their message to be heard.
Being on the wrong side of the fence is a classic metaphor – although Cole Porter’s grandfather was the richest man in Indiana, so technically he was very much on the ‘right side’. But what is the ‘right’ side? Disputes about boundary lines are the stuff of wars, particularly when it comes to gardens.
The Party Wall Act is often evoked when things get really heated – a law originally invented to prevent the spread of fire between adjacent properties following the Great Fire Of London in 1666. Most disagreements end in a relaxed compromise, but even so, can there be a single reader who hasn’t known some small fracas over the trellis?
Height is often a major issue. At Alastair’s Tudor house, the garden wall is made up of 15ft-high hardwood planks salvaged from shipwrecks.
It is a particular look and thankfully one that seems to appeal to the aesthetic sense of the neighbourhood committee.
Like many outside spaces, the garden at Rock House is made up of a mishmash of materials with pockets of judicious patching. There is an old Georgian brick wall that borders the road along one side and is now showing chronic signs of age. There is a half-completed galvanised steel fence that separates us from the sea and a sheer drop 20ft into the shrubbery below. And then there is a bundle of undergrowth under which is hidden an ancient wall topped with a wobbly, corroded, stretch of metal that was probably quite a nice iron fence in the 1950s.
The question is whose responsibility are they? Or, to put it more bluntly, who pays? Title deeds can prove unhelpful. The red-rimmed margins denote the boundaries of the property but not who should pick up the tab. Invariably, it comes down to anecdotal evidence. When you are the new arrival, it takes time to work out the lay of the land, as it were. In the meantime, it’s best to avoid opening the door if you see someone ‘popping round’ with the remnants of a broken post.
Next week: Fishy festival
Being on the wrong side of the fence is a classic metaphor – although Cole Porter’s grandfather was the richest man in Indiana, so technically he was very much on the ‘right side’. But what is the ‘right’ side? Disputes about boundary lines are the stuff of wars, particularly when it comes to gardens.
The Party Wall Act is often evoked when things get really heated – a law originally invented to prevent the spread of fire between adjacent properties following the Great Fire Of London in 1666. Most disagreements end in a relaxed compromise, but even so, can there be a single reader who hasn’t known some small fracas over the trellis?
Height is often a major issue. At Alastair’s Tudor house, the garden wall is made up of 15ft-high hardwood planks salvaged from shipwrecks.
It is a particular look and thankfully one that seems to appeal to the aesthetic sense of the neighbourhood committee.
Like many outside spaces, the garden at Rock House is made up of a mishmash of materials with pockets of judicious patching. There is an old Georgian brick wall that borders the road along one side and is now showing chronic signs of age. There is a half-completed galvanised steel fence that separates us from the sea and a sheer drop 20ft into the shrubbery below. And then there is a bundle of undergrowth under which is hidden an ancient wall topped with a wobbly, corroded, stretch of metal that was probably quite a nice iron fence in the 1950s.
The question is whose responsibility are they? Or, to put it more bluntly, who pays? Title deeds can prove unhelpful. The red-rimmed margins denote the boundaries of the property but not who should pick up the tab. Invariably, it comes down to anecdotal evidence. When you are the new arrival, it takes time to work out the lay of the land, as it were. In the meantime, it’s best to avoid opening the door if you see someone ‘popping round’ with the remnants of a broken post.
Next week: Fishy festival