G and J

Isn’t it as simple as the water level in the butts will settle at the height of the diverter, not where the inlet pipe joins the barrel. The pipe could enter the barrel at the very bottom and the butt would still fill to the height if the diverter, methinks.

Kev the dig, when clearing our site of concrete and foundations, suggested spreading some of the hardcore on an area for parking and deliveries. We are on light, sandy soil with a hint of silt, and it worked a treat. On clay it might have churned in but for us it’s meant a clean road. We also get delivery trucks to park on the road and hiab the stuff as far as they can onto site - often 10m or more.

That was an advertising slogan from the 40’s and 50’s, which persisted in popular culture into my childhood in the 60’s (I’m a wrinkly, but not that much of a wrinkly). And oh boy, with the recent downpours we desperately needed a hat on the house. As kids we used to turn the phrase around - “if you want to get a hat, get a head”. That’s what counted for humour back then. But like all my frivolous tool purchases over the years that turn out to be really useful if not vital during this build, so that phrase became immensely apposite. Our timber frame paddling pool needed a head to put a hat on. In the case of our design ‘a head’ meant a full set of trusses, all braced as per, a layer of OSB (a softy southerner version of sarking), anti everything mesh closing the continuous ridge vent, the eaves bunged up with timber, and the flue hole cut and the attic bits of the flue in place and the final length ready for erection. Rolly the chippy and I had discussed in great length how to put the trusses up. They were in a pile on the upstairs floor needing the bird’s mouths to be cut. We concluded we needed more hands to do it. At this stage we both nod, look round, remind ourselves that we are alone, then stay silent till one of us gives in and says “shall we give one a try anyway? See how we get on?”. That’s the danger of two peeps working together who each refuse to believe they can be beaten. So, Rolly cut the bird’s mouths on three trusses while I pointlessly thought through different lifting options for a pair of old codgers whose combined total age is 140 years. If only I’d bought a chinook. Anyway, there we stood, each end of a truss, silently psyching ourselves up. That was brought to a close by a series of half sentences, which we took turns to utter. Things like “well, we could lift this end onto the plate, then, ummmm….”; “would a rope, sort of….”; “could the scaffold tower help with, maybe, erm….”. We were facing certain defeat, or at least, the need for help. Where was my octogenarian neighbour when we needed him. Visiting friends in Europe, actually. So we did the only thing left to us, we applied good, old fashioned BF&I. (A core skill of mine, as it happens.) We fluffed it twice, each time returning to the starting position. I’m not sure an onlooker would have been able to discern any difference in approach between the three attempts, apart from facial redness growing by each failure. But attempt three worked. Hussah! We sort of repeated the same process, each time making small changes. By the time the eighth truss went up, as I mopped up the blood (I’d bashed my nose) I wondered what on earth we’d found so difficult. Rolly then did his orang-utan impression, while nailing the bracing on to give us a firm set of trusses to build from while I tidied and generally fussed, pointlessly. It’s amazing how a couple of well nailed cross members stiffen an otherwise wobbly set of timbers. That done we continued getting more trusses up. With each one it got easier with practice but harder with less room to work with, ending up with three trusses bunched at each end that we walked to their position once all was up, Rolly on the scaffold outside, me on my tower inside. Simples. By the end of that day we had got all the trusses up and braced enough to get through the expected storm, v pleased. Not so pleased about the next day though. The forecast was dire so Rolly stood down and I tried to have a Tidy Friday. However most of the weather missed us so it ended up a day wasted in many ways. The only really good bit was the roofer popping by allowing a discussion about gable verge and soffit details - that went well, or so I thought - with the roofer happy with our design and booked in to felt and batten us next Thursday. Monday we got the rain we were promised for Friday. Sigh. Dean, the neighbour, turned up to help just as it started hammering down and I’d put the kettle on. Obviously we blamed him for bringing the rain with him. I fed everyone biscuits but had none myself (sniff) as our BCO turned up, and I discovered the recipe for a quick and positive BCO inspection. Try really hard to do good stuff; know one’s design intimately and by heart; and further than that, understand it at a micro level; and have the inspection done in pouring rain so it happens quickly. I think the last bit overrides all the rest, but they’re still a good thing. We are lucky to have a BCO who is a nice guy, who is himself a self-builder, and who loves his job. Either way our BCO was a damp but happy man with our build. Dean and I got a bit of the OSB sarking on when it dried up, while Rolly closed the eaves, so it wasn’t a complete wash out. Next day Rolly and I got a rhythm going and got loads of sarking up, using ropes for security, leaving just the top rows each side which were thankfully half bits. So next day, with nearly a complete layer of OSB on, we discovered how useless sarking is at keeping rain out. Cue yet more depressing sweeping water off of the upstairs floor. Yet even in such circumstances illumination is to be found. Tony trays. You thought they were just for keeping the air in, but no! they are far more versatile: they keep the rain in too. With a flat surface like an upstairs floor however fast one sweeps torrential rain towards the stairwell much of it reaches the walls. When it hits the Tony trays it is skilfully guided round the end of the joists and then down the inside walls. Of course, this is good news especially when one has carefully stored lots of stuff out of the rain, neatly stacked round the edge of the downstairs walls, as all that dry and dusty stuff gets a good cleansing rinse in pure rainwater. All my paslode nail boxes are now papier-mâché, which doesn’t bloody help. The best laid plans and all that. And the delays meant that the plan was starting to look too tight. We had a day to get the rest of the sarking on and a few other bits and pieces done to be ready for the roofer. Cue the cavalry - which in Suffolk can be a helpful neighbour. Rolly did the clever woodworky bits while Dean and I got the top rows of sarking on. Our scaffold is v thin on one side as we are so close to our neighbours, so I could only safely lay a ladder up the roof on the other side. We’d used a roofing ladder for the lower rows but that didn’t work for the top row as the hook was in the way of fitting the boards. So we laid a normal ladder up the roof, and then I laid on the roof, feet atop the ladder, while Dean attached each sheet to a rope and pulled it up to me to fit in place, first on my side then on the other. Worked a treat and with Dean holding the rope we had a backup against the gusts of winds which was never really used but was a comfort to have anyway. Actual safety verses perceived safety is fascinating. As I lay on the sarking getting ready to pull up the next board, waving at a regular passer by (who took another picture), Dean took one look at me, perched on the top of the ladder and asked if I was sure it was safe. “No”, I said, “I’m at significant risk of bashing my thumb with my hammer”. If fall off the ladder AND I didn’t keep one hand on the top of the last fixed board I’ll collect the odd splinter as I slowly slide down onto the scaffolding. Our 40degree pitch means one cannot walk on the OSB but it did mean I could hold myself in place with one hand very easily. OK if I did slide I’d swear a lot but we’d have a laugh about it after. If I was monkeying about on a felted and battened roof the risk of falling through would be massively greater and much more dangerous. In reality I was much more at risk of injury lifting panels on the slab - back injury, crushed fingers, etc. But Dean saw height and that triggered his ‘oh my’ function, (he’s American so he says things like that and “do the math”, and “oh shoot”, etc. bless him), whereas he and I lifting panels didn’t bother him one bit. Peeps (no names, no pack drill Rolly!) constantly leave stuff about which constitute trip hazards, and I’m regularly kicking them to the side or picking them up as I fear peeps tripping and the resultant injuries, which depending on what is there to fall on could be really nasty. Hence my obsessive tidying and my Tidy Fridays. It took me a while to realise if things get untidy I get a big knotty ball of anxiety in me that I just couldn’t turn off. But everyone else wanders past the mess oblivious. So my perhaps irrational trigger is disorder. Go figure, as Dean would say. Once I’d put the last bit on I treated myself to a sit down with a view, on the ridge. I had been looking forward to that moment for many, many days. My favourite place in our current house is on it, on the ridge to be exact. The view is spectacular. Turns out the new pad’s ridge view is just as good. Sitting there, looking across the river towards the ancient burial mounds, even with the rain starting again, felt like the Pooliverse (any Perishers fans out there?) was telling me that it’s all ok, this is meant to be. As the roofer arrived next day I was back laying down on the job, this time fixing stainless steel anti-everything mesh along the gap at the top for the ridge vent. I was very glad to see him, until that is, he asked about the gable verge and soffit details. They are as we agreed, I said, happily. Only it turns out that he had no memory of our previous discussion and anyway he’s a visual sort of guy, rather than a discussion with drawings, sort of guy. So I’ve simply no idea what he thought he was agreeing to the previous week, but we had to do the whole discussion again, this time with wood to mock it up. Fortunately the end result was very similar to my original design, but sometimes trying to plan ahead and get things nailed down in advance in the building industry does feel like trying to buy spirit level bubbles - impossible, and at the same time a source of great amusement to others. That discussion was had on the scaffolding in bright sunshine. But grey clouds were on the horizon so that time wasted was bad news. Two strips of felt later the heavens opened in one last assault before we put our hat on. I guess the Pooliverse has a sense of humour which is hard to appreciate as one sweeps and sweeps and sweeps endless puddles away. But the rain stopped and the roofer got back up there and we finally weren’t topless any more. While the roofer roofed I carried on setting out my flue and while my back was turned Rolly threw up our internal upstairs walls. Perhaps he wiggles the end of his nose, that would account for the speed. We were slowed a lot by the joists being slightly not where I thought the plans showed them to be, (“what do you mean I can’t cut through a pozijoist? I’ve big saws, of course I can!”), but a small (40mm) wall shift sorted the flue run and suddenly we’ve gone from wooden cathedral (micro version) to embryonic home. Albeit a damp one. The week ended with just me doing my Tidy Friday bit and knocking off early for a bit of a low key garden party held by one of our new neighbours. I know our build has upset some a bit but, we are again, ridiculously lucky that the vast majority of our new neighbours are very welcoming and tolerant. The Pooliverse continues to be good to us. Oddly, I then hit a downer, which is very ‘me’. I have no idea if this is an unusual habit, but when faced with the achievement of an important milestone I don’t feel like celebrating, I suddenly have the bandwidth to contemplate what’s left to be done. This time was a lot worse, as I suddenly realised that my time working with Rolly would soon end, and working with him felt really good. Funny old emotional roller coaster, this building malarkey.

We had to provide a construction management plan, (our architect provided an example, but we dud it ourselves). You may be able to find something near to you on the planning portal. Our situation is a residential street with a 7m frontage to the plot. We approached it by thinking about just how we were going to manage the deliveries, parking etc, irrespective of what we thought they were looking for, and then wrote in an "appropriate" way against their headings. For us we were able to delay the building of the garage (to act as another delivery parking spot), identify where deliveries could be moved to (if necessary) at the rear of the site, commit to managing the scheduling of deliveries and numbers of people (vans) on site to ensure minimum disruption etc. Our "drawing" just consisted of a planning site plan annotated. Highways did come back, (in our case quickly, during the consultation period) with further requirements, so we emailed and spoke directly with them to understand exactly what they would accept and resubmitted, It does all seem a pain at this stage, but in reality it was useful to think through the practicalities, and so far so good. Good luck

Thank you, that is both helpful and comforting.

We have looked up the spec. 4 month for stuff on the gables facing east and west......king of hoping there is some latitude, but keen to hear the thought of others..

Our timber frame house is resplendently silver in its shiny new membrane. Well, sort of. Downstairs is covered in grungy old blockwork, which is good news for the breather membrane protected within. Upstairs will be timber clad, eventually. Turns out there’s a 4 to 5 (yes, four to five!) month lead time for our chosen cladding. Thats if we ordered it today which we can’t because the legals haven’t completed on our house sale. Turns out one can grrrr and sigh simultaneously. But the question is….. will our breather membrane need replacing if it’s left naked in the cold for months on end? (Meaning, say, 5 months from now on?) Just how worried should I be?

I think here the word "were" is very relevant. Since Grenfell, there is a tendency not to give advice or opinion. We have gone private and our inspector has recently self built himself and has been easy to deal with, so no complaints there. We also have a potek warranty. We are just about to have the second "audit", "cavities", the inspection of the "foundations" was not straightforward, but resolveable.

I can only relate my experience of quotes for both SIP and timber frame plus the actual supply of our timber frame. It was during the sales phase, but I did get a distinct impression that the SIPs companies worry about the technical detail after sale. Even to the extent of brushing off a showstopper when pointed out to them. It felt like I was dealing with companies, or at least sales staff, desperate for orders regardless of the viability of the build. At that point I really liked the idea of SIPs, but now I’d run a mile. The timber frame companies ‘felt’ different. It was a timber frame company who pointed out that a crane was out of the question for our site and thus they declined to quote. The company we went with are supply only and thus we could manually erect. Pre sale they covered the engineering to an impressive level of detail, and there is nothing slapdash about them. They expect the frame to be assembled carefully and with strict adherence to the plans. A minor but pertinent example is our MVHR ducts. We have a flat roof bit with a steel in the way of ducts for two supply terminals. I asked them to design in holes for the ducts in the steel. They did that. They also went one further, without being asked, and designed the holes to coincide with gaps in the metal web joists and spaces in the flat roof design. In hindsight I should have requested all of that but that's inexperience for you. Thankfully they knew to sort that without needing to be asked. Totally brilliant service.

Thats really kind of you - thank you. And that’s where I’m going wrong - I drink coffee and try (and fail sometimes) to avoid Rolly’s biscuits.

Thank you, thats nice of you to say. I went to a self build show at the NEC when we were waiting for planning permission. When talking to MVHR companies one of them took one look at our plans and said “get holes designed into those steels for your ducts”, which we duly did by making sure the timber frame company designed them in. I didn’t ask them to but they also designed the metal web joists so they all line up too. Bloody marvellous.

Thank you for that ! Presuambly for us and the house .......

Snap..we should know better really oftennscuds on by us here in East Anglia!

Do a google (or equiv) search for "building regs u values for new builds" and you'll get lots of choice Eg. 2025 U-values includin0.18 W/m²K for walls, 0.13 W/m²K for floors, and 0.11 W/m²K for roofs. Windows and doors have a target U-value of 1.2 W/m²K, while the maximum allowable U-value for these elements is 1.6 W/m²K. These U-values are part of a 'notional building' specification and require the use of energy modelling software to demonstrate compliance, which also considers other factors like air permeability and heating systems.

I would say depends on how much he can do in the two days....may be the equivalent of 3 days of someone not so skilled? We are working with a retired master carpenter, and despite (his) initial concerns that he "wouldn't be as quick as he was once" he's like mustard, and we are benefitting from the years of experience and the desire/willingness to be mm perfect. We made the decision to up his day rate for 4 days a weeks to reflect how happy we were. Everyone wins.

Anyway on a more practical level always set the laser up facing the same way, e.g. north. That way when you mop the floor it’ll all run down one end and be easier to clean up. 😉

You wouldn’t believe how many peeps laughed at my home made water level. But it literally sees round corners and despite telling peeps our site was sloping by yay much none of them believe me till we were blocking up.

My take on When we demolished if we had had the " total solution", again would have been zero rated, however we didn't therefore the plasterboard skip we had we paid VAT on and we can't reclaim. The demolition material that could be recycled for crush, the ground workers took away along with the spoil, as part of the groundwork contract and zero rated. If you can find a local farmer who wants it. Re scaffolding we're not paying vat.

Come and look at our neighbours house.....yes the paint will peel off.

[stage whisper…] Psst, they aren’t really powerlifters. Just groundworkers who’s lifting capability with one hand (whilst holding a conversation and drinking tea with the other hand) exceeds my total lifting capacity by a lot. An awful lot.

Blogging: an activity where the perpetrator converts trivia into prose and in doing so reorganises their own otherwise disordered mind. Possible side effects: perpetrator enhancing feelings of self importance; boredom amongst those reading; history being rewritten. I find it interesting to contemplate why I don’t have quite such a burning need to blog at the mo. I’ve always enjoyed working with wood and metal and power tools. And that’s what I’ve been playing at for the last three weeks. I’m not really at home with concrete and soil and masonry - they’re from another planet. On top of that I’m working closely with Rolly the chippy, and he is knowledgeable and experienced, which translates into me having great confidence in him, and additionally he is calm, and has a very powerful calming influence on me. So my head isn’t quite so haywire most evenings now, certainly less than it was during both demolition and groundworks. My head is also full of diagrams and schedules. Both the project and the timber frame kit are constantly changing puzzles which I do kinda understand and can usefully sit and think through - and having puzzles to occupy me keeps both anxiety and random diversionary thoughts at bay. Which is a v long winded way of saying that I’m happy with how it’s going right now. Since the last entry the house has shot up. We’ve had roughly a metric ton of steels popped on to the top of the downstairs panels. Two steelworkers, me, and a genie lift, watched by J and Steve the injured builder. It’s fascinating how banter volume is inversely proportional to difficulties being encountered. It’s also fascinating how distracting, frustrating and irritating little side comments can be from the audience. I’d never cope with stand up - even the gentlest heckling would completely derail me. Jerry and Paul however are made of more hardy stuff. Most of the steels they got up in no time, but then we got to the bogey - the longest, heaviest beam. It would have been massively easier had it been wheeled into the house the other way round, and in hindsight we’d have finished quicker had we put it back on the trolley, wheeled it out into the road, smiled sweetly at the scowling motorists who appear to turn purple if delayed by more than 2,345 microseconds, spun the beam round and wheeled it back in. In fact that was even suggested, but no, perhaps because it would mean admitting defeat, we soldiered on regardless. Regardless and in near silence. Even the audience cottoned on and were uncharacteristically quiet. Then suddenly, we got the beam to spin round above the head binders, dropped it into place, bolted it up and the only thing drowning out the huge sigh of relief was the loud resumption of banter. Banter and tea appear to run our build, both as a glue and a lubricant. Feelings do run high at times and managing feelings, both my own and others, is far more important than I ever imagined. An essential part of that is that the peeps working with us seem to care about our progress, take pride in helping us. We make no secret of our inexperience and our reliance on others and so far that has been met with both kindness and determination to help us. We’ve been stupidly fortunate. Anyway, we’ve also put up the rest of the downstairs panels, including the monster 11’ wide one which was the heaviest of the whole build. Leaving that till we’d done the rest of the downstairs turned out to be a very smart move. We probably found it easier than any of the panels we put up in the first week of frame erection, despite the weight of it and the fact that it was awkward. Part of that is Rolly and I settling in to work with each other. There is now a lot less verbal communication than there was to start with. We’ve also honed panel handling so there’s less pure physical grunt needed. And of course, as time goes on with each panel fitted we’ve more room to work, and that’s also significant. With such a cramped site we are constantly tripping over stuff, moving stuff repeatedly, trying to get stuff delivered at the last minute, etc. But much as I might try to plan, at times there’s no choice but to work with way too little space. A good example is the joists. They were delivered before we’d finished putting up the downstairs panels and there’s an awful lot of them. Ideally I’d have put the delivery back a couple of days but that wasn’t an option. I had no idea how much time the limited space would cost us. Ho humm. Talking of joists that was the next job. Rolly and I deposited nearly another metric ton onto the downstairs panels by hand, (just how much does this ‘lightweight’ timber frame structure support?). I say by hand, but shoulders, knees, and just about every other available body part was deployed. I don’t know what lifting capacity each of us have but somehow when working together we exceed more than the sum of our two capabilities. It’s probably simultaneously driving progress and pushing us a teensy bit too far towards injury risk but it’s just what one does. Joists up Rolly set to making us a temporary staircase while I attacked flooring boards. The temp staircase really has helped reduce fatigue and made getting things upstairs safer and easier. Good idea Rolly. Anybody would think he’d done this house building stuff before. We’ve so many joists we almost don’t need flooring boards, but they’re on the design. Yet another metric ton of them. Plus several kilograms of this funny polyurethane glue stuff. That’s really odd to work with. The first day I came home with black gloves on, only non removable ones. I’m sure my fingerprints must have been obliterated (I certainly couldn’t unlock my iPad) so that would have been the time to do a bank job. But there was no time for niceties as the following day the upstairs panels were due and the telehandler was booked, so I had to get enough decking down to allow the piles to be dropped upstairs and sorted/distributed so the other two piles could follow. Rolly was given the day off for the delivery - he’s not supposed to be full time anyway and his skills are reserved for the clever woodworky bits. So Andy the Boss supplied a telehandler driver who was also a power lifter and another equally capable bod to help me sort the panels. When the downstairs panels were delivered they were dumped in the piles they were transported in and Rolly and I had to reshuffle them, which took lots of time and energy. This time I got the long suffering timber frame company to send me pics of the piles so I could work out which pile to do first and how to sort them into sensible piles. For once the theory worked in practice and despite the complaints about how near the edge of the deck I kept walking that day ended with three piles in a near sensible assembly order. I was pleased with myself but I had a nagging doubt - would it speed erection? As I was pondering this very question Dean the neighbour (two doors down) wandered onto site to offer his help with future deliveries. “Why wait for a delivery?” I asked, there’s tons to do and I’m certainly not too proud to accept help. Next day Rolly and I attended to the odd bits and finished the decking whilst the first lift of scaffold was put up. I’m not sure I did anything but look for discarded cups, (sort of) wash them, boil a kettle and make tea, repeat. Rolly has a near infinite tea consumption capacity but the scaffolders beat him hands down whilst managing, like Rolly, to work hard and get lots done at the same time. The song definitely has it wrong, nothing stops for tea but it gets drunk anyway. Tea is useful though. Rolly arrives way before we are allowed to start work so tea helps him cope with rising agitation as the clocks edges glacially towards 08:00. Tea (and biscuits) helps me get Rolly to stop work long enough to help me plan too. And as we drank our tea and discussed the upstairs panels Dean the neighbour arrived. “I can help for a few hours” he said. Now Dean is in his mid eighties so the average site age rose to 73 that day. Hence my initial caution. I started getting Dean to help me organise and stack lightweight stuff, but it became clear that as he tuned in to the way Rolly and I worked (it’s a kind of grunt and nod based language previously unknown to science) that more ambitious stuff was in order. Panels! The three of us got the first two corner panels up, rather effectively. Whilst Rolly was checking and bracing and securing those panels Dean and I got ready for the next panel, only we didn’t, we put it up ready for Rolly to do his check/brace/secure thing. Fast forward, and I do mean fast, and five hours later almost the whole of upstairs was up. Staggering. And very satisfying for all concerned. Perhaps the speed was helped by my sorting after all. The next day Dean pitched up we lifted the gable panels from the ground floor - there was no room on the deck to use the telehandler to get them up previously - we used ropes, crabs, ladders and way too much giggling but up they went so another keep me awake job was dashed off. Don’t underestimate the capability of us wrinklies. Not so easy was the cement board fitting next day. It’s a bitch of a material to work with and slower than I’d have predicted. But we need it done before we fit the roof trusses - finishing these and getting breather membrane on will be the first job next week. On Friday we were ready in good time for the roof trusses, all 19 of them. Two powerlifters from Andy the boss arrived just as the lorry backed onto site. It’s almost like it was planned. They took one look at the job, shook their heads and took up positions. It worked like this (after a couple of false starts): Driver on lorry pushes ends of truss to edge of lorry. Shortest guy on site grabs end furthest from house and has the job of stabilising the truss. It’s at this point I realise why I need platform steel toecapped boots. Short tempered power lifter grabs end of truss nearest the house. Truss is run towards house like a pole vaulter on speed. At last second short tempered power lifter pushes his end of truss skyward. Shortest guy at back of truss grunts and struggles to keep truss upright whilst swearing, profusely. Truss end is caught by other power lifter (the smiley one) just before it lands on the upstairs floor. Smiley power lifter drags truss upwards as shortest guy is dragged along the ground with it still trying to keep truss upright. Rolly and smiley place truss neatly on rapidly growing pile. In total there was 31 minutes between lorry arriving and the truss pile being completed - if my pics weren’t time stamped I’d not now believe it. That made even the short tempered power lifter grin. To finish the week while I continued fitting cement boards Rolly prepped the first truss for a test fitting. Getting the first truss up felt good, really good. That made me grin. I’m loving this part of the build. Yes, progress is visible, and that helps, but it’s more than that. Even when I’m doing things I’ve never done I’m in my comfort zone, and the muscle and joint aches diminish overnight, and I’m not generally laying awake worrying. OK, that probably means I’ve missed some thing or things that are really important, but I’m feeling good. Long may it continue.

Standardisation and volume production are key to cost effective reliability. Yes, maybe if we were designing our domestic systems from scratch we’d go low voltage dc. But we aren’t. And the range and variety and price of ac control options are impressive. Be a bit careful with dc ratings. Some switches have a very low dc current rating compared to their ac rating (I think that’s due to arcing). And whilst it’s a seductive argument to replace all those ac-dc converters in each light bulb in reality a system would probably have just as many dc-dc converters which are pretty similar. A while ago I investigated dc domestic lighting, spurred on by the thought that I could easily battery back 12v lighting circuits and improve efficiency. But the argument disappears when one considers the efficiency of modern ac coupled battery units. So instead I settled on a split CU and an ac coupled battery unit with backup capability. Simples.

So dot and dab helps an old fashioned masonry build feel like a proper modern timber frame build. 😉

Thanks Kelvin

Hi there @Kelvin, and others, can I ask what you used in the end behind your cladding. BCO's now are not "abke" to give advice, but will give approval to suggestions if appropriate. We are in Suffolk, timber framed, block on the ground floor, and t&g cladding above. The walls facing the neighbours have cement board sheathing and will have fire treated vertical t&g cladding. Neither of our gables face neighbours(both at 90 degrees), but we are considering putting intumescent strips in them behind the cladding. This has not been specified as necessary, but seems to the uninitiated, like a reasonable idea. (We will be using vertical timbers at the corner junctions) We are working with russwood and see their current recommendation is both pricey and out of stock, but notice they used to supply tenmat ff102/50.