The Planning Committee

How proposals for the conversion of an old post office into much needed housing met strong resistance

Image courtesy of Cosgrove Hall Films archive

Postman Pat had always prided himself on being a man of the community, someone who could solve any problem with a bit of patience and a friendly smile. So when the old post office in Greendale was finally decommissioned, he thought it was the perfect opportunity to convert the quaint building into much-needed flats for the growing village. Pat had drawn up the plans with the help of a local architect, outlining charming flats that would preserve the old building's character while offering modern comforts. With Jess, his loyal cat, perched on his shoulder, Pat submitted the planning application, confident that the committee would see the value in his proposal.

But as Pat entered the village hall for the meeting, he immediately sensed something was off. The planning committee, an odd collection of individuals, had gathered around a u shaped table in the council chamber. At the head of the table was Mr. Grumblethorpe, a rotund man with wild hair who kept tapping his gavel unnecessarily. Each committee member had a shiny microphone in front of them, though it was clear from the awkward fumbling that few remembered how to use them. Mr. Grumblethorpe, adjusted his chair with grandiose movements, as though preparing to deliver a state-of-the-nation address. He cleared his throat into the microphone, which emitted a high-pitched screech, making everyone wince.

"Ah-hem," he began, fiddling with the microphone’s on/off switch as if it were a wand of power. "We are here today to consider a... most serious matter." He paused dramatically, clearly enjoying the attention, before casting a disapproving glance at Pat’s plans. “Mr. Clifton proposes... the conversion of our beloved historic post office into flats.” He drew out the word “flats” with exaggerated disgust, as if Pat had suggested replacing the building with a troll-infested swamp. Finally remembering to switch off his microphone, Mr. Grumblethorpe leaned back, beaming with self-satisfaction.

Next, Mrs. Finkle who appeared to be knitting something enormous, leaned forward, her massive scarf trailing dangerously close to her microphone. “I, for one,” she began, her microphone still off, “feel we must—oh, hold on.” She poked sharply at the switch until a loud crackle interrupted her again. “Yes, there we are. I feel we must consider the spiritual impact this would have on the village.” She nodded emphatically, as though her vague statement was the final word on the matter. “Turning the post office into flats is unthinkable! Who will consult the... the aura of the place?” Her voice rose to a dramatic whisper, as if she were revealing long-forgotten secrets.

Pat opened his mouth to respond, but before he could speak, Mr. Tupperwell leaned forward, his nose colliding with his microphone. "I—er—I would like to second Mrs. Finkle," he stammered, “This proposal - er - lacks.… vision.” He gave a self-important nod, his eyes darting around for approval. “Who will consider the pigeons? Hmm? They have used that roof for generations, and this could—could upset their migration patterns!” He sat back triumphantly, convinced he had delivered an irrefutable argument.

One by one, the committee members spoke, each trying to outdo the last in vehement declarations, and each having trouble with their microphones. Mrs. Blotts, the self-proclaimed “Heritage Guardian,” who had never so much as picked up a history book, declared in a booming voice “This post office is a monument to Greendale’s glorious past—and I won’t stand for its desecration!” She slammed her papers down with a flourish.

Pat blinked, unsure how to respond. Jess let out a concerned meow from his perch, clearly sensing the bizarre turn the conversation was taking. Mr. Tupperwell mumbled something but no one heard him. As the objections piled on—ranging from worries about "magical post-energy" to concerns about disrupting the "fabric of village nostalgia"—it became clear to Pat that this wasn’t going to be the straightforward approval he had hoped for.

When the vote was called, the committee members unanimously rejected the proposal, with Mr. Grumblethorpe proudly announcing, “The people have spoken!” into a now perfectly functioning microphone.

Mr. Grumblethorpe tapped his gavel triumphantly and declared, “Greendale will not be turned into a concrete jungle of flats!” despite Pat’s insistence that his plans were for converting an existing brick building, not creating new a concrete one. As Pat and Jess left the hall, their dreams of delivering new homes dashed, he couldn’t help but wonder how such a strange group of people had ever been put in charge of planning and, indeed, what the future might hold for the old post office.

Greendale’s planning process seemed like a mystery even a postman and his cat couldn’t solve.

Image courtesy of Cosgrove Hall Films archive

Style inspired by John Cunliffe (1933 – 2018)

John Arthur Cunliffe (1933 – 2018) was an English children's book author and television presenter who created the characters of Postman Pat and Jess, his black and white cat.

Bluepencil can help you with your presentations to Planning Committees and Parish Councils. We work hard to build good relationships with these groups during the design process to increase the possibility of a successful planning application.

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