I’ve spent more than a decade working as a planning enforcement consultant and neighbour-dispute mediator, usually brought in after conversations have broken down and positions have hardened. Reading about Paul Feely felt uncomfortably familiar to me, because I’ve seen how a single boundary decision can quietly evolve into a legal conflict long before anyone realizes how far things have gone.
In my experience, boundary disputes don’t begin with arguments. They start with assumptions. I remember a case early in my career where a homeowner rebuilt a low wall using more durable materials. The footprint barely changed, but the height did—by less than a foot. To the owner, it was an improvement. To the neighbour, it felt like a slow encroachment. By the time I was asked to review the planning position, the wall had become symbolic of disrespect rather than concrete and mortar.
One mistake I encounter repeatedly is treating planning permission as a formality instead of a safeguard. I worked with a client last spring who relied on a contractor’s confidence that a wall was “clearly exempt.” The measurements were close enough to create doubt, but no one paused to confirm. When the neighbour raised objections, the conversation shifted instantly from “Can we adjust this?” to “I’m entitled to build here.” That change in tone made compromise nearly impossible, even though the physical issue itself was solvable.
Another pattern I see is silence being misinterpreted as agreement. I’ve sat across from homeowners who said, “They watched the work and never said a word.” In separate meetings, I heard neighbours explain they assumed the build was temporary or unfinished. Once the structure was complete, raising concerns felt confrontational. That gap—between observation and consent—is where resentment tends to grow unnoticed.
From a professional standpoint, I’m cautious about recommending court involvement unless every other option has failed. I’ve reviewed enough outcomes to know that legal clarity doesn’t repair neighbourly relationships. Even when a ruling favors one side, both often leave frustrated, having spent months living beside someone they no longer trust. I’ve seen walls altered or partially removed, yet the sense of hostility remained intact.
There’s also a misconception that boundary disputes are purely technical. They aren’t. I’ve watched disagreements intensify because one party focused entirely on drawings and measurements, while the other was reacting to lost light, privacy, or a feeling of being boxed in. Planning rules matter, but so does acknowledging how a structure changes daily life next door. Ignoring that human element is a mistake I’ve seen professionals make as often as homeowners.
After years of mediating these conflicts, my view is shaped less by regulations and more by prevention. The disputes that stay with me are the ones that could have been avoided with earlier conversations and clearer verification. Boundary walls seem permanent, but the damage caused by rushing their construction often lasts much longer than the wall itself.