Building land = Hen's teeth

I started bashing out a rushed reply to the following comment, and then realised that the reply might build up to be as long as a proper post. So why not? Why not a proper post as a response? So here it is...

almita said...

Hi! I live in Zurich and we are considering a Huf House project...So far we are looking to nuy a house and demolish, as you know there are no bauland, and the ones that exist are unaffordable. So far, I have found aorund the Zurich proximity at avge 1.5 mill Chf...sigh....

My question is about planning permission, I am looking for a house around 200 sq mts, or similar to yours, I like the flat roof model, did you have any challenges to get permission?

On another note, I see you mention an architect, do you need to hire one mandatory? We are hoping to benefit from the strong chf vs euro, after a few years, do you recommen the approach vs a traditional build after you had some time to live on it? thank you for your tips any wordof advise welcome!

The easiest place to begin is with the real estate situation here in Switzerland.

Strangely, Swiss mortgage interest rates are at their lowest since records began, the housing market forgot to plummet along with the rest of the world, the economy is more or less intact... and so, wonder of wonders, Switzerland seems to be the last bastion of rock-solid house prices, and, therefore, rock-solid land prices.

Or the land prices would be rock-solid if the damn things didn't keep going up up up.

Going up? We can understand the prices remaining stable, but going up?

So what's going on?

Well, a combination of factors: the obvious one is that most of the flat bits of land around this part of Europe were thoughtfully claimed by France, Germany and Italy, using little more that swords, ploughs and crosses, leaving the steep and rocky bits for the Swiss to scratch out a living. Ergo, any remaining flat land in Switzerland invariably has a tractor upon it, and very strict laws against conversion into residential use. Next, the Swiss understandably want to live within a few kilometres of wherever they work. This is a life/work balance thing that they've got right and therefore that everyone else has got wrong.

Ergo, too little available building land for geopolitical reasons, and certainly too little around the few cities that anyone with the wherewithal to spend tonnes of money building a Huf Haus could conceivably work in.

So land prices go up up up, because the bulk of it's been built on yonks yonks yonks ago. And there's not much more to come, unless the Swiss decide to annex Belgium.

Kind of sets the questions above into context, methinks.

So, to make my first point: yes, finding land that happens to have a wreck, 60's bungalow, or otherwise undesirable object, upon it, is a worthy strategy. Certainly a more successful strategy than searching the classified for that hen's tooth of a grassy building plot. That doesn't exist, so don't even look. And that's the thing about Swiss real estate that Auslander's (you lot) don't know; undesirable houses are worth... pretty much the value of the land it sits upon, and nowt more.

The Swiss rarely renovate. Maybe they don't have to, cos their well-designed, well-built and well-maintained houses don't actually get round to falling to bits. But very occasionally a wreck or dump does become available when some aged miser finally pops his clogs, and the inheriting family are clueless what to do with it. Selling's a lot easier than cleaning it. Or painting it. Or replacing kitchen and bathroom.

So worth keeping an eye out for.

Planning permission strategy? Well, Switzerland's pretty much like the rest of Europe. There are Gemeindes (local authorities) that like the idea of something like a Huf Haus, and then there're the many, many Gemeinde's wot don't. The ones that do like the idea tend to be more urban, closer to the lake, in lower tax areas (let there be no obstacle to relieving the rich from the burdens of taxation); the ones that don't tend to protect their cheerful Swiss villages by ensuring that any new house conforms to the steep, red roof uniformity that makes them so quaint in the first place.

Actually, fair dos on that point.

And specifically to answer the question, anywhere like Meilen, Richterswil, Kusnacht and Erlenbach would do nicely, if seeking to build a flat-roofed Huf Haus. At twice the land prices of anywhere else, cos they're low taxation areas, purposely set low to attract the rich, 'cos the (low) taxable income of a handful of rich is mightier that the (high) taxable income of the great unwashed.

Anywhere more rural-like where yer perfect Huf Haus would have the perfect view to match would likely be guarded by a Gemeinde planning department (in practice one bloke) who will fight you tooth and nail, unless he's one of the very few enlightened. And when you best the planning department (him) using the full legal powers that you're entitled to (entitled to pay handsomely for, that is) you'll have found that two years have passed, and maybe, just maybe, you've gone off the whole idea. Sod it.

Which is exactly what happened to the previous owners of the land upon which our Huf Haus sits upon. They battled for two years, got pissed off with the endless stream of obstacles (to be fair, they wanted a few additions that would be hard for any authority to swallow) and even though they won most of their hard fought battles, and got that planning permission (sans unpalatables) the magic had gone. So they flogged the land with planning permission for a Huf Haus to Claudia and I, and then waved goodbye to this particular Gemeinde forever.

The little beaurocrat will out in the end. He's now working in the (bigger) Gemeinde next door leading a planning department of three, with governance over his successor at our Gemeinde. The power, the power. The Webers (for it was they) moved to Bern, and chased other dreams.

Still, not a bad plot of land for Claudia and I to find on our second weekend's drive round the Zürich area searching for hen's teeth. And with a fresh Baubewilligung (permission) for a 3-axis Huf Haus of the same shape and size as we wanted. We changed almost nothing. Saved us a year or two of wrangling. Sigh. You may call us what we are. Lucky, lucky sods.

So what's my advice to the world, assuming not everyone is quite as jammy as we were?

Build in an expensive (low tax in the case of Switzerland) area and find that CHF 3 million for the land. They'll let yer build an Eiffel Tower out of lollipop sticks and donkey spit if it'll mean your income'll contribute to the tax pool of the area.

Can't afford that? Then look further out, and conform conform conform. Conform as much as the Huf Haus system will allow, anyway.

If the local (Gemeinde) planning regulations stipulate a certain size, roof profile, distance from road or boundary, building colour, or whatever, then submit a plan wot says exactly that. Nay! Make it even more conservative, and slice 50cm off every dimension, include a wall or hedge to protect the neighbours from the "horror" of looking at a Huf Haus... actually, to protect your view from their derivative blot, but the Gemeinde doesn't have to know that. If they demand red roof tiles "to fit in with the character of the village" then get used to the idea. If they insist on a pitched roof "because of the threat of snow overwhelming the structure of the house" then give up on the flat roof idea.

Or build elsewhere.

Or build something else.

Or don't build.

Stop! All too negative! Look, your Huf Haus system can be physically tailored to fit into almost any set of planning rules. Few, if any, regulations stipulate a maximum window surfacing, or the colours of the walls or beams. Yer pitched roof comes with roof tiles, which is as conservative as it gets, so they can't bitch about much more than the colour. The structure (post and beam, pitched roof) itself is as traditional as it gets in Europe, short of a mossy cave.

But how to add those features to make it special?

Well, the inside's a blank canvas for a start. But this post's inherently about the outside, so inside's for another day.

There're various things you can do outside that can equally conform to the planning regulations, if you're guided properly. Which is how I answer the second question. Yes, you need an architect. But not just anyone out of the Yellow Pages. In Almita's case, that architect's basically Mr Huf Haus Switzerland (not the case when he built our house, merely the recommended architect, but the meek inherited the franchise) and I can recommend him wholeheartedly. No one has better experience as to what fits into local regulations, Huf Haus-wise, than he (actually, He of the Bowtie, none other), and no one knows better how to deal with the factory, arrange for blokes with diggers to make keller-shaped holes, yadda yadda yadda.

And that'll be the case anywhere else in Europe. Talk to the Huf Haus people, and let them recommend the architect. Skip the suspicion that it's some kind of job for the boys. Because it is a job for the boys. Tried, tested and proven boys.

And would I still recommend building a Huf Haus rather than a traditional build?

Well, watch Grand Designs and see for yourself. Everyone else is grateful for the project part to be over, for the planning arguments to be at an end, for a stop to the disappointments with building contractors, with the spiralling costs, hurrying Mr McCloud past this or that unfinished room years after they moved in. Sod that. Claudia and I still think back to the project part of our build as one of the best experiences of our lives, and for the good reasons, rather than for those character-building reasons that other people have to cling onto.

Not meaning to disrespect the traditional build mob, or their choices, you should understand. They've earned plenty of my respect as I watched them (on the telly) overcoming all sorts of adversity that I couldn't be bothered with.

Please, Dear Huf Haus Hopeful, do cast your eye across the above words a few times more, and try not to let your dream get twisted from the outset by an unnecessary (losing) battle with the authorities. Why make it hard for yourself? Conform enough to meet the regulations, using the sage advice given by experienced professionals, and even if you do have to make some compromises, I can promise you one thing, and these are the exact parting words of the embittered Frau Weber who sold us the land:

It'll easily be the nicest house in the village.

And by christ, she was right. It is, and then some.

The wonderful world of Ligne Roset furniture

Hello World!

Firstly, an apology as I've been meaning to write up Ligne Roset (a contemporary Italian-French furniture company) for donkey's years. Ah well, better late than never. Hopefully no one's going to read this, fall into a rage, and then smash up the furniture they've bought in the meantime.

Let's face it, yer Huf Haus has such amazing natural light and cat-swinging space, that it's an ideal gallery in which to show off decent furniture. Looking at the many eye-candy pictures of Huf Haus interiors that we find on the Web and in the magazines, it seems that Claudia and I are not alone when it comes to our taste for mixing our furniture styles up. To our eyes (your tastes can and will differ) nowt looks better than a mélange of contemporary, classical and even ethnic furniture, side by side, because somehow the clash of styles allows each piece to stand on its own two feet.

Or four feet.

Whatever.

For my sins, back at the turn of the millenium, I spent a year or two living in the fair city of Luxembourg. A surprisingly nice place, but of course somewhat limited in the excitement stakes. Nevertheless, there were enough colleagues and friends around at the time to generate enough fun, high-jinx and mayhem for me to recall my Lux stint as one of life's high-points.

I arrived there (as oft happens to we ex-pats) for "just a few weeks" and then quickly figured out that I'd be there "much longer", and therefore would be "needing an apartment". And that apartment would "need furnishing"...

(Let's fast forward...zzzzzzzzzzzip)

...so of course my newly acquired apartment would need some decent furniture. It just so happened that there was one of the few Habitats outside of the UK right there on the door step, so my credit card got a bit of a pounding. But then I wanted a few items that would be... just a bit nicer... than what Shabby-tat had to offer.

Sooooooo, in some fancy furniture shop close to Grand Rue (sort of Lux's version of Bond Street) I spotted an amazing glass coffee table, hyper-ventilated at the price, bought it anyway, and took the catalogue home to scratch and sniff at the other wonders therein... and so started my love affair with all things Ligne Roset.

So why, amongst the oodles of contemporary posh furniture manufacturers do I offer you Ligne Roset?

Well, 'cos over the years I've noticed that lesser brands shameless copy Ligne Roset classics using cheaper materials, physically scaled down to fit the shoe-box sized rooms of yer typical house, and stamp 'em out in China (or wherever) by the thousands and charge... well, to be honest the rip-offs are cheaper, but not exactly a tenth of the price of the originals. Typically a half or a third of the price for smaller versions badly made out of far less durable materials. So yes, I'd heartily recommend that when you have a chance to pop into a Ligne Roset store that you have that walk round, grab this year's catalogue (some people avidly collect the catalogues like stamps, I kid you not) and see if they're for you and yours.

So what follows is a short roll call of what's caught my eye over the years, some of which Claudia and I are living with now, some of which we'll buy when we get round to it... and some of which'll have to remain on the lust list because there's no logical place to put it.

Smala sofas

So let's start off with the Smala sofa, a pair of which Claudia and I nearly bought just before Rafael was born. Costs are about three and a half grand for the big three-seater and two and a half for its two-seater little brother.

And that's a hocker you see in the corner of the photo. The sides and backs of the sofas have clever mechanisms so that they can be incrementally raised and lowered either for comic effect, or, more realistically, so that they can be fully flattened out into sofa beds. Achingly cool, and available in a zillion colours, fabrics and also leather for the fetishists. Reason we didn't buy? Someone with some experience of parenthood (Rafael would be our first child) pointed out the potential for baby-sick, chocolate and melted biscuits to somewhat spoil the look and finish of said sofas. So we bought a cheaper throwaway corner sofa until the detritus associated with our kids has safely dried up.

We can wait. But until then... drooooooooooool.

Togo sofa combos

Ok, so this is what happens when yer act against your instincts and use the left-side of yer brain (the brainy side) to rationalise a delay; the right-side of your brain (the fickle side) changes its mind. Or does it? Too fickle to tell...

So I present you the Togo sofa system, available either as corner unit combinations, or as separate sofas, etc etc etc. Costs are about three and a half grand for a three-piece corner combo. And of course it's available in more colours than Joseph's coat. Why's it caught my eye? Well apart from looking like the comfy-est sofa available anywhere. Period. I turns out that it is the comfy-est sofa. Ever. Period. So there.

Your cat will love you forever. And then some.

Good Morning side table

Ok, so for just under four hundred quid, we have the Good Morning side table. Sounds like a chinese cigarette brand. Bonkers name, but thankfully it's not written anywhere so yer visitors don't have to know.

This is one of two side tables that Frau Capucho and I have in consideration at the moment.

While it seems to defy the laws of gravity, it's clearly not quite toddler-proof. However, our youngest Alexandro (we have three boys) is now nearly four, and seems to have passed the "lets give that table a nudge to see if it (and the big vase of flowers on top) will come crashing down strewing flowers and associated green water all over the lounge" phase...

Thot side table

...or perhaps we go with the Thot instead. Say wot? Yep, another comedy name in the vein of "Thor? THOR? I'm tho thor I can hardly pith!"

Nevertheless, a smoothly modern design available at a Ligne Roset store near you (or someone you've read about in the papers) for give or take four hundred quid.

Everywhere storage system

Ok, so here's one for which we actually coughed up good money; no regrets.

We spent about two thousand quid around ten years ago for a two metre unit to go under our big telly. It's still looking strong, clean, neat and (most importantly) capacious (those drawers are huge) seeing as we have those zillions of CDs and DVDs that yer seem to accumulate.

And look at those feet! Actually, you can't 'cos it's a crap photo. But if you could you'd recognise them because they're so copied that they've become a bit of a cliché. Look for them in Ikea or wherever, and once you start noticing them you'll never stop. A bit like humming that song... can't stop yerself.

Anyways, it's the prototype, the original, the real deal and I never get tired of looking at it, or its brethren, in the Ligne Roset shop.

(Sigh).

Bianco dining table

We didn't buy the Bianco dining table, but oh how I wish we had. Nay, we will! This is another modern design classic copied outrageously by others. Costs about two and a half grand, and it's soooo very clever that it hurts. The table slides smoothly apart in't middle (have a close butchers at the photo) in such a way that your dinner guests will applaud loudly. Although you probably should have set the table before they arrived.

Still if they did see the expansion then they'd be well impressed.

Our current dining table is a 2.4m cherry-wood dream that we bought to fit into our old house, which simply doesn't fit under the viewing gallery space above it. Basically, it's too nice to replace, but needs replacing anyway. Leave this one with me, and I'll continue to erode my beautiful wife's objections.

Might take years.

Fils dining chairs

Well, we can't have the dining table (pah! just you wait!) but we can bloody well have the chairs. So we have ten. They cost three hundred quid a pop, are comfortable, cool, strong, wipe-clean (kids), and for an extra fifty quid you can have moo-moo cow-hide in place of the coloured leather. Yep, two of our chairs are cow-hide and they look great!

Now you should understand that the Swiss are very particular about designer chairs (dunno why, but they are) so they can happily chat about just about every modern (and old) designer that ever bent a piece of metal into a seat. However, these Fils chairs never fail to impress, and I do rather enjoy them mentally trawling through their design catalogues before arriving at... the name of the wrong designer. Hah!

Kenny Everett voice: It's Ligne Roset, you fools!

Everywhere desk

And here's the Everywhere take on the home office desk, a mere bagatelle at one and half thousand quid.

Not yet bought, but it will be any time soon. Shall wait for the wife's birthday to come around, so (shh) let's keep it to ourselves, eh? And have a look at the feet under the drawer unit, 'cos that's the design cliché I was referring to before. Look!

Do you see 'em? Do ya?

Mama standing light

Last but not least, we have the Mama standing light. Almost a daft name, but still within acceptable limits of naming credibility.

This is another Ligne Roset classic that graces our home, and it's lighting up me and my iPad as I finish typing this post. Ok, so it's six hundred quid, but what price for (yet again, this is getting embarassing) an oft copied modern design classic. What's so clever about this (one does so like clever things) is that the metal hangy-over bit slides back over the metal standy-up bit so that it can be converted from hangy-over to standy-up.

Oh for god's sake have a look at the photo because written words don't describe this very well.

My written words, anyway.

That's all for now, and see you all next time.