Following the news that the controversial spa pool built by Captain Tom Moore’s daughter Hannah Ingram-Moore will be demolished, it seems that the old adage – that it is easier to ask forgiveness than it is to get permission – doesn’t always bear out.
After her father became a national hero, raising £38m for NHS charities before his death in 2021, Ingram-Moore’s use of funds raised in his name – keeping £800,000 from charity book sales, for instance – has roused disproportionate public uproar at every turn. Till now, at least; as vindictive schadenfreude goes, our glee (for glee it is) at a local council’s decision to deprive her of a private spa feels pretty measured.
To backtrack a little – and to further hammer home the curtain-twitchy Britishness of the whole saga – this latest decision actually relates to an appeal for retrospective planning permission rather than an application to build the spa in the first place. That initial construction was undertaken merrily back in 2021, when an L-shaped building was green-lit after its intended uses were described as partly “in connection with The Captain Tom Foundation and its charitable objectives”.
More recently, retrospective permission for a larger C-shaped building – containing the contentious pool – was denied, citing damage to the existing Grade II listed home and bringing the structure’s charitable objectives into somewhat murkier territory. Of course, those doubts didn’t stop Ingram-Moore riffing.
“At the Hearing the appellant explained that […] the spa pool could offer rehabilitation sessions to elderly people in the area once or twice a week,” noted Inspector Diane Fleming from the Planning Inspectorate. Yeah! Open your mind, guys. Who’s to say that a spa pool can’t be used charitably?
Much as a golden throne could theoretically be made accessible to people in need of a sit down, or a private collection of priceless art might be periodically trotted out to generously inspire hobbyists, so Ingram-Moore’s home spa pool might theoretically be used by elderly aqua aerobic enthusiasts.
And that’s not all: as Fleming explained, Ingram-Moore had plenty of other retrospective suggestions for the pool complex: “The public could view a selection of the memorabilia held by the family; the building could also be used for coffee mornings to combat loneliness as well as to host meetings with other charities who work in the elderly persons’ sector and to make podcasts/films.”
Yes yes yes, all great ideas. While we’re at it, jot down “Ritz – community bingo hall”, “Buckingham Palace, hot desking” and “Harrods food hall – cost of living food drive”.
While Fleming noted that “it has not been demonstrated in any detail how all of this would work in practice”, I think she’s underestimating the propulsive force of panic. Like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar, Ingram-Moore is suffering no shortage of ideas to excuse herself – and honestly, if someone was going to knock down my private spa, I’m sure I’d be similarly creative. Unfortunately for Ingram-Moore, her best efforts have been for naught.
Among the wider public, of course, most of us can’t afford to visit public spas, let alone private ones. While Captain Tom’s daughter has been subject to outsized outrage in the press and on social media, this latest bureaucratic headache seems finally proportional to her misdeeds.
However sneaky she’s been, we must remember that some people do awful things; when all is said and done, Ingram-Moore has fudged a planning application. Once we’ve all calmed down, perhaps we can use her as legal precedent for a new raft of – gentle – punitive measures, to apply when our feelings overshadow real world harm: no pedicures for cheats! No masseurs for queue jumpers! And certainly no spas for sneaks!
