Clochemerle?

About three years ago, someone in our village suggested that the primary school, which occasionally used our rather remote and barren playing field, needed a couple of toilets to go alongside the tea hut and equipment store.

The parish council took note. Someone else suggested that it might be difficult to raise funds merely for something as mundane as a couple of toilets. Perhaps a small pavilion would appeal more to sponsors? All thought this a good idea, so they set up a funding group under the chairmanship of a parish councillor.

The group started various fund raising events, notably a vintage car show. They began to develop ideas for the pavilion. They commissioned an architect.

Things came to a head a month ago. The committee would not share the plans with the parish council, but insisted they be brought before an open meeting. So the meeting was duly called: it was packed – standing room only. You wouldn’t have seen more people if you had offered free drinks at the Bell.

After a brief introduction by the chair of the parish council, the plans were revealed to gasps from the audience. What started as a little more than a shed, had grown to three thousand square feet with sixteen rooms. The meeting is thrown open to the floor.

“How much will it cost to build?”

“We think about £350,000?”

Does that include fees and siteworks? Where will the money come from?”

“Don’t know about costs, but there are some charities about.”

“Who is going to use it? Our village only has three hundred people – and most of those are over sixty. We cannot raise a five-a-side, let alone a whole football team; the median age of the pub cricket team which plays four games a year is sixty five.”

“Sizewell football club need a temporary pitch for two years.”

“This is madness. It’s like building a factory when you don’t know what things you want to make, how much they will cost, who will buy them and what they will fetch.”

“What we are seeing is the field of dreams approach. If we build it they will flock here.”

“How are people going to get to this pavilion? The field is at the end of a two hundred metre single track lane without passing places? Can we guarantee access for emergency vehicles? Where will people park?”

“These are details that will be ironed out later.”

“Who will run it? How much will it cost to run? How much revenue will it generate? Have you got a business plan? What was the architect’s brief?”

“Taking each question in turn: don’t know; don’t know; don’t know; no; there wasn’t one – we had a brainstorming session to see who might possibly use it.”

Up stands the chair of governors of the school who says she has no idea why anyone thought the school wanted to see the toilets provided. One of the funding committee leaps to his feet, “But the loos are totally inadequate for the car show.”

“But the only reason we have the show is to raise money for the loos.”

The meeting gradually descends into chaos. One villager insists on a show of hands in favour of pursuing the grand design. No one, not even amongst the proponents, raises a hand. Common sense prevails.

So what have we learned from our experience?

1. If you have a community or visitor project, make sure you have a realistic business plan to inform the design brief.

2. Never ever employ an architect without a clear brief.

3. Do not set up committees without reporting structures and clear lines of accountability.

4. Make sure you have the requisite expertise on any committee.

5. Carry all stakeholders with you and keep them fully informed as plans progress.

Remember the Dome – a billion pounds wasted on a politically driven project that was designed before anyone knew what was going in it and anyone had a business plan! The principles hold irrespective of the scale.