Land Law Book

‘The text is clear and easy to understand.
It explains the issues very well indeed

without over-simplifying fundamental points.’
Introduction to
Dr Janine Griffiths-Baker, Senior Lecturer, School of Law, University of Bristol
Introduction to Land Law

‘A clear, concise and accurate introductory text written by a leading authority in land law.’
Dr Antonia Layard, Lecturer, School of Law, Cardiff University
‘Comprehensive and well-structured.’

Shan Cole, Senior Lecturer, School of Law, University of Glamorgan Land Law
Roger Smith’s Introduction to Land Law presents a SECOND EDITION
straightforward account of the law and its effects, giving
a clear and accessible explanation of concepts students
often find difficult to grasp. It illuminates the interesting
and thought-provoking issues stemming from land law. Roger J. Smith
A unique chapter structure allows students to understand
the fundamental place and practice of each subject area
before delving into some of the deeper matters they will
be expected to engage with throughout their course:
• Nature and importance sets out, by use of
examples, how the law functions and why it is
important.
Do you want to give yourself a head start come
• Main issues and rules clearly explains the key exam time?
principles in detail, including case analysis and
diagrams where helpful.
• Critical and controversial issues introduces areas Visit www.mylawchamber.co.uk/smithintro
of topical debate and controversy, outlining the key to access interactive quizzes, sample
issues and arguments, then encouraging students to exam questions with answer guidance, and
form their own assessment of the law in each area. flashcards, all designed so that you can
test yourself on topics covered in this book.
The book also provides: There are also live weblinks and regular legal
updates to help you impress lecturers and
• Introductory chapters that explain what land law examiners with your knowledge of the latest
is and why it is important, the difference between developments in land law.
land law and other forms of property law, and the Worried about getting to grips with cases?
increasingly important relationship between land law Case Navigator offers unique online support
and human rights. that helps you improve your case reading and SECOND
analysis skills in land law. EDITION
• A fully cross-referenced glossary with clear definitions
of the technical and often archaic terms encountered C AS E
in land law.
• Fully supported by mylawchamber, with useful
A
R
N
online resources for assessment and learning support V I G AT O

Roger J. Smith
POWERED BY
at www.mylawchamber.co.uk/smithintro. The LexisNexis element of Case Navigator is only available to those who currently
subscribe to LexisNexis Butterworths services.
Roger J. Smith teaches law at Magdalen College, Lecturers: Register online for access to a
University of Oxford. He is also the author of two very testbank of multiple-choice questions that can
be customised and used to assess students’
successful in-depth treatments of the subject: Property
progress.
Law, sixth edition, and Property Law: Cases and Materials,
fourth edition, both published by Longman.
www.pearson-books.com
CVR_SMIT2607_02_SE_CVR.indd 1 8/2/10 10:45:32

A01_SMIT2607_01_SE_FM.QXD 2/3/10 4:04 PM Page i
Introduction to Land Law

A01_SMIT2607_01_SE_FM.QXD 2/3/10 4:04 PM Page ii
The perfect companion to use

alongside your textbook.
ISBN: 9781405873468
Includes all the cases and materials you are likely

to need for your course.
Available at all good bookshops or order online at:

www.pearsoned.co.uk/law
A01_SMIT2607_01_SE_FM.QXD 2/3/10 4:04 PM Page iii
2nd Introduction to
edition
Land Law
Roger J. Smith
Magdalen College, Oxford
A01_SMIT2607_01_SE_FM.QXD 2/3/10 4:04 PM Page iv
Pearson Education Limited

Edinburgh Gate
Harlow
Essex CM20 2JE
England
and Associated Companies throughout the world
Visit us on the World Wide Web at:

www.pearsoned.co.uk
First published 2007

Second edition published 2010
© Pearson Education Limited 2007, 2010
The right of Roger J. Smith to be identified as author of this work has been
asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in

a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic,
mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without either the prior
written permission of the publisher or a licence permitting restricted copying
in the United Kingdom issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency Ltd,
Saffron House, 6–10 Kirby Street, London EC1N 8TS.
Crown Copyright material is reproduced with the permission of the Controller

of HMSO and the Queen’s Printer for Scotland.
Law Commission Reports are reproduced under the terms of the Click-Use Licence.
ISBN: 978-1-4082-2260-7
British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Smith, Roger J. (Roger John), 1948–
Introduction to land law / Roger J. Smith. – 2nd ed.
p. cm.
ISBN 978-1-4082-2260-7 (pbk.)
1. Real property–England. I. Title.
KD829.S627 2010
346.4204′3–dc22
2009050100
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
14 13 12 11 10
Typeset in 9.5/13 pt Stone Sans by 35.

Printed and bound in Great Britain by Henry Ling Ltd, Dorchester, Dorset.
The publisher’s policy is to use paper manufactured from sustainable forests.

A01_SMIT2607_01_SE_FM.QXD 2/3/10 4:04 PM Page v
Brief contents
Preface to second edition xiv

Acknowledgement xvi
Table of cases xvii
Table of legislation xxiii
Part 1 Introduction to land law 1

1 Introducing land law 3
2 Trusts and equitable interests 11
3 Legislative reform: 1925 to 2002 15
4 Land and other property 22
5 Human rights 26
Part 2 Acquiring interests and binding purchasers 33

6 Adverse possession and fixtures 35
7 Transfer and creation of interests in land 50
8 Estoppel 71
9 Ownership of the family home 89
10 Priorities 108
Part 3 Rights to enjoy land 131

11 Successive and concurrent ownership 133
12 Trusts of land 148
13 Leases: types and requirements 172
14 Leases: obligations and remedies 192
Part 4 Other interests in land 219

15 Licences 221
16 Easements 234
17 Covenants 256
18 Mortgages 273
Glossary 294
Index 299
v
A01_SMIT2607_01_SE_FM.QXD 2/3/10 4:04 PM Page vi
A01_SMIT2607_01_SE_FM.QXD 2/3/10 4:04 PM Page vii
Contents
Preface to second edition xiv

Acknowledgement xvi
Table of cases xvii
Table of legislation xxiii
Part 1 INTRODUCTION TO LAND LAW 1

What is land law? 3
What issues arise in land law? 4
Interests in land 5
Splitting ownership 6
Other interests in land 7
Why have a list of interests in land? 9

The trust 11
Other equitable interests: remedies 12
Equitable interests in the modern law 13

A strategy for estates 15
Freehold estates 16
Leasehold estates 17
Registration of title 17
A strategy for interests other than estates 18
An interim solution: land charges legislation 18
The modern solution: registration of title 18
Commonhold: a new estate? 19
Conclusions 21

The range of proprietary interests recognised 22
The significance of possession 23
Formalities 23
vii
A01_SMIT2607_01_SE_FM.QXD 2/3/10 4:04 PM Page viii
Contents
Registration 23
Land as a home 24
Land and the 1925 legislation 24
Conclusions 25
5 Human rights 26
Convention rights 26
Enforcement of Convention rights 28
Human rights in the enforcement of property rights 29
Assessing human rights in land law 30
Part 2 ACQUIRING INTERESTS AND BINDING

PURCHASERS 33

Nature and importance 35
Main issues and rules: adverse possession 35
Introduction 35
Adverse possession under the Land Registration Act 2002 36
When is there adverse possession? 38
Critical and controversial issues: adverse possession 43
Justifications for adverse possession 43
The human rights challenge 44
Is adverse possession justified today? 45
Main issues and rules: fixtures 45
The significance of fixtures 46
When is there a fixture? 47
Rights to remove fixtures 48
Assessing the law on fixtures 49
7 Transfer and creation of interests in land 50

The importance of formalities 50
Main issues and rules 51
Transfers of land 51
Creating interests in land 55
Trusts 56
Critical and controversial issues 61
The reasons for formality rules 61
Electronic conveyancing 64
8 Estoppel 71
viii
A01_SMIT2607_01_SE_FM.QXD 2/3/10 4:04 PM Page ix
Contents

When will estoppel arise? 73
The remedy 77
Estoppel as a proprietary claim 77
Benefit and burden 79
Enforcing promises 80
Remedies 85
Conclusions 87

Express declarations of trust 90
Transfer into joint names 91
Transfer into a single name 92
Quantifying the shares 97
The impact of Stack in single name transfers 100
Reform 102
Estoppel and constructive trusts 103
10 Priorities 108
Legal and equitable priority rules 109
The need for reform 110
Land charges 111
Land registration 112
Purchasers with actual notice 122
Actual occupation 124
Part 3 RIGHTS TO ENJOY LAND 131

Main issues and rules: successive interests 134
What interests are recognised? 134
Creation of successive interests 135
Vesting and perpetuity rules 135
The operation of the interests 136
Main issues and rules: concurrent interests 136
ix
A01_SMIT2607_01_SE_FM.QXD 2/3/10 4:04 PM Page x
Contents
Joint tenancy or tenancy in common? 136

Severance of joint tenancies 139
Severance by mutual agreement and course of conduct 142
The future of the equitable joint tenancy 145

The need for regulation: successive interests 148
Extension of regulation to concurrent interests 149
A single regulatory regime for successive and concurrent interests 150
When is there a trust of land? 151
Trustees’ powers and their exercise 152
The role of the court 154
Delegation 157
Occupation 157
Overreaching 160
Trusts for sale 163
Bankruptcy 164
Secured creditors 167
Other successors in title 170
Conclusions 171

Requirements of leases 173
Types of lease 175
Importance and early history 181
Street v Mountford 182
Shams and lodgers 183
Exceptional cases 186
Joint occupiers 186
The state of the law today 190

Implied obligations 193
Enforcing obligations: landlords’ obligations 196
x
A01_SMIT2607_01_SE_FM.QXD 2/3/10 4:04 PM Page xi
Contents
Enforcing obligations: tenants’ obligations 198

Who is liable on covenants? 203
Leases as contracts 211
Liability of assignors for breaches after assignment 214
Part 4 OTHER INTERESTS IN LAND 219
15 Licences 221
What are licences? 221
Distinguishing the methods of protection 222
Should we be worried about licences as interests in land? 222
Contractual licences: licensor and licensee 223
Contractual licences: licensee and purchaser 225
Remedies available to licensees 226
Constructive trusts 227
Licences protected by estoppel 230
16 Easements 234
What can be an easement or profit? 235
Creation of easements 239
The extent of the easement 241
Termination of easements 242
Possession claims 243
Implied easements 246
17 Covenants 256
Main issues and rules: restrictive covenants 257
Requirements 257
Running of the burden 258
Running of the benefit 258
The operation of restrictive covenants 263
Main issues and rules: positive covenants 264
Passing the burden 264
Passing the benefit 265
xi
A01_SMIT2607_01_SE_FM.QXD 2/3/10 4:04 PM Page xii
Contents
Annexation 266
Positive covenants 268
Comparisons 269
Conclusions 271
18 Mortgages 273
Types of mortgage 274
Vitiating factors 275
Rules protecting borrowers 275
Rights and remedies of the lender 279
Misrepresentation and undue influence 283
Statutory limits on the lender’s right to possession 288
Glossary 294
Index 299
xii
A01_SMIT2607_01_SE_FM.QXD 2/3/10 4:04 PM Page xiii
Visit the Introduction to Land Law, second edition,

mylawchamber site at
www.mylawchamber.co.uk/smithintro
to access valuable learning material.
FOR STUDENTS
Companion website support
Do you want to give yourself a head start come exam time?
● Study exam-style questions with answer guidance to prepare for exam success.
● Test yourself with interactive multiple-choice quizzes on the main topics in land law.
● Check updates to major changes in the law to stay ahead of the game by knowing the
latest developments.
● Use the online glossary for quick reference to key terms in land law.
● Improve your recall and comprehension of key terms with flashcards.
● Weblinks direct you to online resources where you can find out more about land law.
C AS E
Case Navigator*
Worried about getting to grips with cases?
A
R
N
V I G AT O
This unique online support helps you to improve your case reading and
POWERED BY
analysis skills.
● Direct deep links to the core cases in land law.
● Short introductions provide guidance on what you should look out for while reading
the case.
● Questions help you to test your understanding of the case, and provide feedback on
what you should have grasped.
● Summaries contextualise the case and point you to further reading so that you are fully
prepared for seminars and discussions.
Also: The regularly maintained companion website provides the following features:
● Search tool to help locate specific items of content.
● Online help and support to assist with website usage and troubleshooting.
For more information please contact your local Pearson Longman sales representative or
visit www.mylawchamber.co.uk/smithintro.
*Please note that access to Case Navigator is free with the purchase of this book, but you must register with
us for access. Full registration instructions are available on the website. The LexisNexis element of Case
Navigator is only available to those who currently subscribe to LexisNexis Butterworths online.
xiii
A01_SMIT2607_01_SE_FM.QXD 2/3/10 4:04 PM Page xiv
Preface to second edition
There have been some very significant developments since the first edition was published,
mostly resulting from decisions of the House of Lords. In particular, Stack v Dowden and
later developments regarding ownership of the family home have required much of
Chapter 9 to be restructured and rewritten. The somewhat contradictory decisions on
estoppel in Cobbe v Yeoman’s Row Management Ltd and Thorner v Major have required
discussion, though there is less change in the law than had seemed likely at one stage.
Finally, the discussion of the right to park in Moncrieff v Jamieson has required revision
of parts of Chapter 16 (Easements). Other less dramatic developments have, of course,
also been incorporated. Though there have been no major statutory changes, the Law
Commission’s Consultation Paper on easements and covenants features in Chapters 16
and 17.
The general objectives of the book and its approach remain as described below for the
first edition.
Preface to first edition

This book is written to introduce students to fundamental principles of land law. Over the
years, land law has gained a reputation as a difficult subject. In part this is because much
of it is statutory, in part because it contains a fair amount of detail and in part because
students are usually unfamiliar with dealings with land. These factors can mask the
reality that land law raises numerous interesting issues, most of which are socially and
economically important.
The approach adopted in the book is first to explain the general role and rules of each
topic and then to consider a few specific issues in more detail. These last issues have been
chosen as those which are most controversial and which frequently appear in examina-
tion questions. Leaving aside the five introductory chapters in Part 1, each chapter is divided
into three sections. First, there is a quite short introduction, considering the nature and
importance of the topic. Next, a section ‘Main issues and rules’ summarises the essential
rules and principles. It is usually impossible to contribute to the most interesting questions
before understanding these rules and principles. Finally, the ‘Critical and controversial
issues’ section goes into rather more detail on selected issues. The object here is to demon-
strate how land law topics raise interesting, important and challenging questions. They
are approached at a level of depth similar to that of land law textbooks, though without
heavy citation of supporting authorities. Throughout the book, footnote references have
been kept to a minimum. The guiding principle has been to cite those cases and statutory
xiv
A01_SMIT2607_01_SE_FM.QXD 2/3/10 4:04 PM Page xv
Preface to second edition
provisions which students are most likely to be expected to be familiar with. Of course,
not every institution places emphasis on the same issues and authorities.
No prior knowledge of land law is expected of readers, though a general understanding
of the law of contract and the use of cases is assumed. The book is designed for students
who are about to embark on the study of land law or who wish to read a short descrip-
tion of an individual topic before embarking on a chapter in a mainstream textbook. I am
grateful for the guidance provided by those who have read draft chapters. In particular,
I should thank Zoë Botterill and Cheryl Cheasley at Pearson Education, who have
between them read the entire text. They have enabled me to avoid many infelicities,
though remaining defects are entirely my responsibility.
Roger J Smith
Note: Where a word is emboldened in the main text, this indicates that it is a first/significant
occurence of a Glossary term (please refer to the Glossary on pages 294–8).
xv
A01_SMIT2607_01_SE_FM.QXD 2/3/10 4:04 PM Page xvi
Acknowledgement
We are grateful to all the lecturers who reviewed this text and contributed to its develop-
ment, including:
Dr Janine Griffiths-Baker, University of Bristol

Dr Antonia Layard, Cardiff University
Shan Cole, University of Glamorgan
Ben Mayfield, Lancaster University
xvi
A01_SMIT2607_01_SE_FM.QXD 2/3/10 4:04 PM Page xvii
Table of cases
Visit the Introduction to Land Law, second edition mylawchamber site C AS E
at www.mylawchamber.co.uk/smithintro to access unique online

support to improve your case reading and analysis skills.
A
R
N
V I G AT O
Case Navigator provides: POWERED BY
● Direct deep links to the core cases in land law.

● Short introductions provide guidance on what you should look out for while reading
the case.
● Questions help you to test your understanding of the case, and provide feedback on
what you should have grasped.
● Summaries contextualise the case and point you to further reading so that you are fully
prepared for seminars and discussions.
*Please note that access to Case Navigator is free with the purchase of this book, but you must register with
us for access. Full registration instructions are available on the website. The LexisNexis element of Case
Navigator is only available to those who currently subscribe to LexisNexis Butterworths online.
Case Navigator cases are highlighted in bold.
AG Securities v Vaughan [1990] 1 AC 417 Attorney General of Hong Kong v Humphreys

183, 187–191 Estate (Queen’s Gardens) Ltd [1987] AC 114
Abbey National BS v Cann [1991] 1 AC 56 82, 83
120, 128, 129 Attorney General of Southern Nigeria v John
Abbey National plc v Moss [1994] 1 FLR 307 Holt & Co (Liverpool) Ltd [1915] AC 599
170 244, 245
Abbott v Abbott [2007] UKPC 53; [2008] 2 FLR BCCI (Overseas) Ltd v Akindele [2001] Ch 437
1451 93, 94, 98, 100–102 124
Air Jamaica Ltd v Charlton [1999] 1 WLR 1399 Bailey v Barnes [1894] 1 Ch 25 281
57 Baker v Baker & Baker (1993) 25 HLR 408 85
Alliance & Leicester plc v Slayford (2000) 33 Banco Exterior Internacional SA v Thomas
HLR 743 169, 288 [1997] 1 WLR 221 287
Amsprop Trading Ltd v Harris Distribution Ltd Bank of Ireland Home Mortgages Ltd v Bell
[1997] 1 WLR 1025 259 [2001] 2 FLR 809 169, 171
Antoniades v Villiers [1990] 1 AC 417 Bannister v Bannister [1948] 2 All ER 133 60
183–191 Barca v Mears [2004] EWHC 2170; [2005] 2
Ashburn Anstalt v Arnold [1989] Ch 1 225, FLR 1 165, 166
226, 228, 229, 233 Barclays Bank plc v O’Brien [1994] 1 AC 180
Aslan v Murphy [1990] 1 WLR 766 184 284, 286
xvii
A01_SMIT2607_01_SE_FM.QXD 2/3/10 4:04 PM Page xviii
Table of cases
Barclays Bank plc v Guy [2008] EWCA Civ 452; City of London BS v Flegg [1988] AC 54 161,
[2008] 2 EGLR 74 121 162, 171
Basham, Re [1986] 1 WLR 1498 84 City Permanent BS v Miller [1952] Ch 840 117
Batchelor v Marlow [2003] 1 WLR 764 245 Cityland and Property (Holdings) Ltd v Dabrah
Baxter v Four Oaks Properties [1965] Ch 816 [1968] Ch 166 278
262 Clark v Barnes [1929] 2 Ch 368 252
Beaulane Properties Ltd v Palmer [2006] Ch 79 Clore v Theatrical Properties Ltd [1936] 3 All ER
44, 45 483 175, 225
Bedson v Bedson [1965] 2 QB 666 155 Cobbe v Yeoman’s Row Management Ltd
Beswick v Beswick [1968] AC 58 259 [2008] UKHL 55; [2008] 1 WLR 1752,
Billson v Residential Apartments Ltd [1992] reversing [2006] EWCA Civ 1139; [2006] 1
1 AC 494; [1992] 1 All ER 141 200, 217 WLR 2964 (xiii), 73, 80, 83, 84, 86, 87, 105
Binions v Evans [1972] Ch 359 60, 227, 228 Commission for the New Towns v Cooper
Birmingham Citizens Permanent BS v Caunt (Great Britain) Ltd [1995] Ch 259 52
[1962] Ch 883 280 Coombes v Smith [1986] 1 WLR 808 75
Birmingham Midshires Mortgage Services Ltd v Copeland v Greenhalf [1952] Ch 488 243–245
Sabherwal (2000) 80 P&CR 256 106 Corin v Patton (1990) 169 CLR 540 144
Borman v Griffith [1930] 1 Ch 493 249, 252, Cowell v Rosehill Racecourse Co Ltd (1937) 56
254 CLR 605 224
Botham v TSB Bank plc (1997) 73 P&CR D1 48 Crabb v Arun District Council [1976] Ch 179
Bradley v Carritt [1903] AC 253 277, 278 74 –76, 85, 106
Bristol and West BS v Ellis (1996) 73 P&CR 158 Credit Lyonnais Bank Nederland NV v Burch
290, 291 [1997] 1 All ER 144 285, 287
Bristol and West BS v Henning [1985] 1 WLR Crest Nicholson Residential (South) Ltd v
778 129 McAllister [2004] 1 WLR 2409 259, 267
Brunner v Greenslade [1971] Ch 993 262 Crow v Wood [1971] 1 QB 77 238
Bruton v London & Quadrant Housing Trust Cuckmere Brick Co v Mutual Finance [1971]
[2000] 1 AC 406 213, 214 Ch 949 282
Buckinghamshire CC v Moran [1990] Ch 623 Cygnet Healthcare Ltd v Greenswan
40, 41 Consultants Ltd [2009] EWHC 1318 (Ch)
Bull v Bull [1955] 1 QB 234 152 261
Burgess v Rawnsley [1975] Ch 429; [1975] 3 Dalton v Angus & Co (1881) LR 6 App Cas 740
All ER 142 143 238
Burns v Burns [1984] Ch 317 95, 101, 102 Das v Linden Mews Ltd [2003] EWCA Civ 590;
Byford, Re [2004] EWHC 1267; [2004] 1 P&CR [2003] 2 P&CR 58 242
159 160 Davies v Du Paver [1953] 1 QB 184 240
CIBC Mortgages plc v Pitt [1994] 1 AC 200 Dearle v Hall (1828) 3 Russ 1 (38 ER 475) 110
285 Delehunt v Carmody (1986) 161 CLR 464 146
Central London Property Trust v High Trees D’Eyncourt v Gregory (1866) LR 3 Eq 382 48
House Ltd [1947] KB 130 72 Diligent Finance Co v Alleyne (1972) 23 P&CR
Chan Pui Chun v Leung Kam Ho [2002] EWCA 346 112
Civ 1075; [2003] 1 FLR 23 158 Dillwyn v Llewelyn (1862) 4 De GF & J 517 (45
Chattey v Farndale Holdings Inc (1996) 75 ER 1285) 71, 72, 74, 77, 78, 104, 105, 230
P&CR 298 229 Doherty v Birmingham City Council [2009] 1
Cheltenham & Gloucester BS v Norgan AC 367 30
[1996] 1 WLR 343; [1996] 1 All ER 449 Dolphin’s Conveyance, Re [1970] Ch 654 262
289, 290, 293 Draper’s Conveyance, Re [1969] 1 Ch 486 140,
Chhokar v Chhokar [1984] FLR 313 127, 128 143
Citro, Re [1991] Ch 142 165, 168 Duffy v Lamb (1997) 75 P&CR 364 239
xviii
A01_SMIT2607_01_SE_FM.QXD 2/3/10 4:04 PM Page xix
Table of cases
Edwards v Lloyds TSB Bank plc [2004] EWHC Hadjiloucas v Crean [1988] 1 WLR 1006 188,
1745; [2005] 1 FCR 139 156, 169, 170 189
Ellenborough Park, Re [1956] Ch 131 236, 237 Halsall v Brizell [1957] Ch 169 79
Elliston v Reacher [1908] 2 Ch 665, CA; Hammersmith and Fulham LBC v Monk [1992]
affirming [1908] 2 Ch 374 262 1 AC 478 177, 178
Epps v Esso Petroleum Co Ltd [1973] 1 WLR Harmer v Jumbil (Nigeria) Tin Areas Ltd [1921]
1071 127 1 Ch 200 194
Errington v Errington [1952] 1 KB 290 225, Harris v Flower (1904) 74 LJ Ch 127 242
233 Harris v Goddard [1983] 1 WLR 1203 140
Esso Petroleum Co Ltd v Harper’s Garage Hawkesley v May [1956] 1 QB 304 143
(Stourport) Ltd [1968] AC 269 279 Haywood v Brunswick Permanent Benefit BS
Eves v Eves [1975] 1 WLR 1338 96, 98 (1881) LR 8 QBD 403 257
Expert Clothing Service & Sales Ltd v Hillgate Hill v Tupper (1863) 2 H & C 121 (159 ER 151)
House Ltd [1986] Ch 340 201 236
Fairclough v Swan Brewery Co Ltd [1912] AC Hilton v Plustitle Ltd [1989] 1 WLR 149 185,
565 276 186
Farah Construction Pty Ltd v Say-Dee Pty Ltd Hodgson v Marks [1971] Ch 892 128
(2007) 230 CLR 89 124 Holland v Hodgson (1872) LR 7 CP 328 47,
Federated Homes Ltd v Mill Lodge Properties 49
Ltd [1980] 1 WLR 594 260, 265–267 Holliday, Re [1981] Ch 405 165, 166, 169
First National Bank plc v Achampong [2003] Horsham Properties Ltd v Clark [2009] 1 WLR
EWCA Civ 487; [2004] 1 FCR 18 155, 156, 1255 28, 291, 292
169 Hunter v Canary Wharf Ltd [1997] AC 655 227
First National Bank plc v Syed [1991] 2 All ER Hurst v Picture Theatres [1915] 1 KB 1
250 290 223 –225
Formby v Barker [1903] 2 Ch 539 258 Hussein v Mehlman [1992] 2 EGLR 87 198,
Four-Maids Ltd v Dudley Marshall (Properties) 212
Ltd [1957] Ch 317 280 Hussey v Palmer [1972] 1 WLR 1286 97
Fowler v Barron [2008] EWCA Civ 377; [2009] Huwyler v Ruddy (1996) 28 HLR 550 184
2 FLR 831 92 International Tea Stores Co v Hobbs [1903] 2
Frazer v Walker [1967] 1 AC 569 119 Ch 165 250
Friends Provident Life Office v British Railways Ives (ER) Investments Ltd v High [1967] 2 QB
Board [1996] 1 All ER 336 215 379 79
French v Barcham [2008] EWHC 1505 (Ch); Jacobs v Seward (1872) LR 5 HL 464 160
[2009] 1 WLR 1124 160 Jaggard v Sawyer [1995] 1 WLR 269 264
Gillett v Holt [2001] Ch 210 81, 84 Javad v Aqil [1991] 1 WLR 1007 177
Gissing v Gissing [1971] AC 886 93–95, 98, Jennings v Rice [2003] EWCA Civ 159; [2003]
100, 138 1 P&CR 100 81, 84– 87, 105, 106
Glass v Kencakes [1966] 1 QB 611 201 Jones v Challenger [1961] 1 QB 176 155, 159
Goldberg v Edwards [1950] Ch 247 250, 253 Jones v Kernott [2009] EWHC 1713 (Ch);
Goodman v Gallant [1986] Fam 106 91, 137, [2010] 1 P & CR D9 100
138 Jones v Rhind (1869) 17 WR 1091 109
Gore and Snell v Carpenter (1990) 60 P&CR K Re [1985] Ch 85 142
456 144 Kay v Lambeth LBC [2006] 2 AC 465 29, 30
Grant v Edmondson [1931] 1 Ch 1 208 Kent v Kavanagh [2007] Ch 1 251, 253
Grant v Edwards [1986] Ch 638 96, 104–106 Kinane v Mackie-Conteh [2005] EWCA Civ 45;
Greasley v Cooke [1980] 1 WLR 1306 75, 76 [2005] WTLR 345 83
Green v Ashco Horticulturist, Ltd [1966] 1 WLR Kinch v Bullard [1999] 1 WLR 423 140
889 250, 254 King, Re [1963] Ch 459 209
xix
A01_SMIT2607_01_SE_FM.QXD 2/3/10 4:04 PM Page xx
Table of cases
King v David Allen & Sons Billposting Ltd Midland Bank Trust Co Ltd v Green [1981] AC
[1916] 2 AC 54 225 513 122
King’s Trusts, Re (1892) 29 LR Ir 401 135 Mikeover Ltd v Brady [1989] 3 All ER 618
Kingsnorth Finance Co Ltd v Tizard [1986] 1 187–191
WLR 783 127 Miller v Emcer Products Ltd [1956] Ch 304 244
Kling v Keston Properties Ltd (1984) 49 P&CR Miller Smith v Miller Smith [2009] EWCA Civ
212 127 1297 157
Knightsbridge Estates Trust Ltd v Byrne [1939] Moncrieff v Jamieson [2007] UKHL 42; [2007]
Ch 441 276 1 WLR 2620 xiii, 239, 244 –246
Kreglinger v New Patagonia Meat & Cold Moody v Steggles (1879) LR 12 Ch D 261 236,
Storage Co Ltd [1914] AC 25 277, 278 237
Kumar v Dunning [1989] QB 193 265 Moore v Rawson (1824) 3 B & C 332 (107 ER
LCC v Allen [1914] 3 KB 642 258 756) 243
Lace v Chantler [1944] KB 368 174, 175 Mortgage Corpn v Shaire [2001] Ch 743 155,
Le Foe v Le Foe [2001] 2 FLR 970 94, 102 156, 168, 169, 171
Lewis v Frank Love Ltd [1961] 1 WLR 261 277 Multiservice Bookbinding Ltd v Marden [1979]
Liverpool City Council v Irwin [1977] AC 239 Ch 84 278
213 Murphy v Gooch [2007] EWCA Civ 603;
Lloyds Bank plc v Rosset [1991] 1 AC 107, HL; [2007] 2 FLR 934 159
reversing [1989] Ch 350 94–98, 101, 104, National Carriers Ltd v Panalpina (Northern)
126–128 Ltd [1981] AC 675 212
Lohia v Lohia [2001] EWCA Civ 1691; affirming National Provincial Bank Ltd v Ainsworth
[2001] WTLR 101 58 [1965] AC 1175 125, 225, 226
London & Blenheim Estates Ltd v Ladbroke National Westminster Bank plc v Morgan
Retail Parks Ltd [1994] 1 WLR 31, CA; [1985] AC 686 284
affirming [1992] 1 WLR 1278 244, 245 Newton Abbott Co-operative Society Ltd v
Long v Gowlett [1923] 2 Ch 177 251 Williamson & Treadgold Ltd [1952] Ch 286
Long v Tower Hamlets LBC [1998] Ch 197 55 261
Lyttleton Times Co Ltd v Warners Ltd [1907] Nickerson v Barraclough [1981] Ch 426 248
AC 476 249 Nielson-Jones v Fedden [1975] Ch 222
Lyus v Prowsa Developments Ltd [1982] 1 WLR 142–144
1044 123, 228 Norwich & Peterborough BS v Steed [1993] Ch
McAdams Homes Ltd v Robinson [2005] EWCA 116 121
Civ 214; [2005] 1 P&CR 520 242 O’Brien v Robinson [1973] AC 912 1957
McCann v United Kingdom [2008] 2 FLR 899 Oxley v Hiscock [2005] Fam 211 98, 99, 100,
30, 178 102, 103, 105
Malayan Credit v Jack Chia-MPH Ltd [1986] AC P&S Platt Ltd v Crouch [2004] 1 P&CR 242
549 138 251
Malory Enterprises Ltd v Cheshire Homes (UK) Paddington BS v Mendelsohn (1985) 50 P&CR
Ltd [2002] Ch 216 119, 127 244 126
Manchester Airport plc v Dutton [2000] QB Palk v Mortgage Services Funding plc [1993]
133 226 Ch 330 283
Marcroft Wagons Ltd v Smith [1951] 2 KB 496 Paragon Finance plc v Nash [2002] 1 WLR 685
181, 183, 186 275
Marten v Flight Refuelling Ltd [1962] Ch 115 Parris v Williams [2008] EWCA Civ 1147;
260 [2009] 1 P&CR 169 96
Melluish v BMI (No 3) Ltd [1996] AC 454 48 Pascoe v Turner [1979] 1 WLR 431 85, 87, 230
Midland Bank plc v Cooke [1995] 4 All ER 562 Pavlou, Re [1993] 1 WLR 1046 160
93, 98 Peffer v Rigg [1977] 1 WLR 285 122
xx
A01_SMIT2607_01_SE_FM.QXD 2/3/10 4:04 PM Page xxi
Table of cases
Pettitt v Pettitt [1970] AC 777 59, 92, 93, 97 Smith and Snipes Hall Farm Ltd v River Douglas
Phipps v Pears [1965] 1 QB 76 237, 238 Catchment Board [1949] 2 KB 500 265
Powell v McFarlane (1977) 38 P&CR 452 39, Smith v Marrable (1843) 11 M & W 5 (152 ER
40, 41 693) 195
Progressive Mailing House Pty Ltd v Tabali Pty Snook v London and West Riding Investments
Ltd (1985) 157 CLR 17 212 Ltd [1967] 2 QB 786 183
Prudential Assurance Co Ltd v London Sorensen and Sorensen, Re (1977) 90 DLR 3d
Residuary Body [1992] 2 AC 386 174–176, 26 144
191 South Western Railway Co v Gomm (1882) 20
Pwllbach Colliery Co Ltd v Woodman [1915] Ch D 562 257
AC 634 248, 249, 253 Southwark LBC v Mills [2001] 1 AC 1 193, 194
Pye (JA) (Oxford) Ltd v Graham [2002] Sovmots Investments Ltd v SSE [1979] AC 144
UKHL 30; [2003] 1 AC 419 40, 41, 44 HL; reversing [1977] QB 411 251, 262
Pye (JA) (Oxford) Ltd v United Kingdom (2007) Spencer’s Case (1583) 5 Co Rep 16a (77 ER
46 EHRR 10803; [2007] ECHR 44302/02; 72) 208, 257
reversing (2005) 43 EHRR 43 27, 28, 31, Stack v Dowden [2007] UKHL 17; [2007] 2 AC
44, 45 432 xiii, 89, 91–93, 95 –102, 105 –107, 138,
Rance v Elvin (1985) 50 P&CR 9 239 159, 160
Red House Farms (Thorndon) v Catchpole State Bank of India v Sood [1997] Ch 276 161,
[1977] 2 EGLR 125 39 162
Reeve v Lisle [1902] AC 461 277 Stent v Monmouth DC (1987) 54 P&CR 193
Reichman v Beveridge [2006] EWCA Civ 1659; 196
[2007] 1 P&CR 358 212, 213 Strand Securities v Caswell [1965] Ch 958 127,
Reid v Bickerstaff [1909] 2 Ch 305 266 128
Renals v Cowlishaw (1879) LR 11 Ch D 866, Street v Mountford [1985] AC 809 182–184,
CA (1878) LR 9 Ch D 125 266 186, 190
Rhone v Stephens [1994] 2 AC 310 79, 80, Stribling v Wickham [1989] 2 EGLR 35 187,
238, 258, 264, 268, 269 188
Roake v Chadha [1984] 1 WLR 40 261, 267 Sturges v Bridgman (1879) LR 11 Ch D 852
Rodway v Landy [2001] Ch 703 158 240
Rogers v Hosegood [1900] 2 Ch 388 266, 267 Suttill v Graham [1977] 1 WLR 819 160
Royal Bank of Scotland plc v Etridge (No 2) Taylors Fashions Ltd v Liverpool Victoria
[2002] 2 AC 773 284 –288 Trustees Co Ltd [1982] QB 133 73,
Rugby School (Governors) v Tannahill [1935] 1 75, 76
KB 87 201 Texaco Antilles v Kernochan [1973] AC 609
St Marylebone Property Co Ltd v Fairweather 262
[1963] AC 510 42, 43 Thompson v Park [1944] KB 408 224
Saleeba v Wilke [2007] QSC 298 143 Thorner v Major [2009] UKHL 18; [2009] 1
Samuel Allen & Sons Ltd, Re [1907] 1 Ch 575 WLR 776 xiii, 80, 83, 84, 87, 105
46 Tichborne v Weir (1892) 67 LT 735 42
Samuel v Jarrah Timber and Wood Paving Corp Tinker v Tinker [1970] P 136 59
Ltd [1904] AC 323 276, 277 Tinsley v Milligan [1994] 1 AC 340 59, 60
Savva v Hussein (1996) 73 P&CR 150 201 Tulk v Moxhay (1848) 2 Ph 774 (41 ER
Scala House & District Property Co Ltd v 1143); [1843–60] All ER Rep 9 257, 258,
Forbes [1974] QB 575 201 264, 272
Sekhon v Alissa [1989] 2 FLR 94 58 Union Lighterage Co v London Graving Dock
Silven Properties Ltd v Royal Bank of Scotland Co [1902] 2 Ch 557 248
plc [2004] 1 WLR 997 282 Vandervell’s Trusts (No.2), Re [1974] Ch 269
Sledmore v Dalby (1996) 72 P&CR 196 86 57
xxi
A01_SMIT2607_01_SE_FM.QXD 2/3/10 4:04 PM Page xxii
Table of cases
Verrall v Great Yarmouth BC [1981] QB 202 Wilcox v Tait [2007] EWCA Civ 1867; [2007] 2
224 FLR 871 160
Walker v Linom [1907] 2 Ch 104 109 Williams & Glyn’s Bank Ltd v Boland [1981]
Walsh v Lonsdale (1882) LR 21 Ch D 9 178, AC 487 126, 129, 162
191 Williams v Hensman (1861) 1 J & H 546
Ward v Kirkland [1967] Ch 194 244, 251, 253 (70 ER 862) 140, 142–144
Warnborough Ltd v Garmite Ltd [2003] EWCA Williams v Williams [1976] Ch 278 157
Civ 1544; [2004] 1 P&CR D18 277, 278 Willmott v Barber (1880) LR 15 Ch D 96 73
Webb’s Lease, Re [1951] Ch 808 249 Winter Garden Theatre (London) Ltd v
Webster v Webster [2008] EWHC 31 (Ch); Millenium Productions Ltd [1948]
[2009] 1 FLR 1240 102 AC 173, HL; reversing [1946] 1
Western Bank Ltd v Schindler [1977] Ch 1 292 All ER 678, CA 224
Westdeutsche Landesbank Girozentrale v Wong v Beaumont [1965] 1 QB 173 248
Islington LBC [1996] AC 669 57 Wright v Macadam [1949] 2 KB 744 244,
Westminster City Council v Clarke [1992] 2 AC 245, 254, 255
288 185 X v Y [2004] EWCA Civ 662; [2004] ICR 1634
Wheeldon v Burrows (1879) LR 12 Ch D 31; 29
[1874–80] All ER Rep 669 247–249, Yaxley v Gotts [2000] Ch 162 82, 104, 106
251–255 York v Stone (1709) 1 Salk 158 (91 ER 146)
White v City of London Brewery Co (1889) 42 138
Ch D 237 281 Zetland (Marquess) v Driver [1939] Ch 1 260
xxii
A01_SMIT2607_01_SE_FM.QXD 2/3/10 4:04 PM Page xxiii
Table of legislation
Administration of Justice Act Human Rights Act 1998 26, s 118 114
1970 288, 289, 292 27, 28, 29 s 131 121
s 36 289, 291, 292 s 3 28, 29, 43 Sched 3 117
Administration of Justice Act s 4 28 para 1 117, 128, 179
1973 s 6 28 para 2 69, 117, 124,
s 8 289 Insolvency Act 1986 165 125, 128, 130
Commonhold and Leasehold s 283A 165 para 3 117, 118, 121
Reform Act 2002 19, s 313A 166 Sched 4 120
199 s 335A 164, 165, 168 Sched 5, para 8 66
ss 166–171 199 Joint Family Homes Act 1964 Sched 6 36
Consumer Credit Act 1974 (NZ) para 1 36
s 140A 279 ss 16 –19 166 para 3 36
Consumer Credit Act 2006 Judicature Acts 1873–75 13 para 4 36
279 Land Charges Act 1925 18 para 5 37
Contracts (Rights of Third Land Charges Act 1972 18, 111 Sched 8 121
Parties) Act 1999 4, s 10(4) 112 Sched 12, para 9 118
61, 211, 227, 229, Land Registration Act 1925 Landlord and Tenant Act 1927
259, 263, 265 123, 274 206
Criminal Law Act 1977 Land Registration Act 2002 s 19 205
s 6 291 18, 27, 35 –38, 41, Landlord and Tenant Act 1985
Defective Premises Act 1972 44, 45, 64, 65, 66, s 8 195
196 113, 114, 120, 122, s 11 195
s 4 195, 197 123, 126, 129, 226, Landlord and Tenant Act 1988
Electronic Communications 231 205, 206
Act 2000 65 s 4 114 Landlord and Tenant
s 8 65, 66 s 23(1) 274 (Covenants)
Enterprise Act 2002 165, 166 s 26 162, 163 Act 1995 206 –209,
European Convention for the s 27 114, 115, 118 215 –217
Protection of Human (2)(b)(ii)–(iii) 114 s 3 208
Rights and s 28 119 (5) 211
Fundamental s 29 69, 118, 119, 123, s 5 216
Freedoms 1953 26, 124 s 16 216
29 (2)(b) 211 s 17 215–217
Art 1 28 s 33 115 s 18 215, 217
Art 6 28 (c) 211 s 19 217
Art 8 27, 29, 30, 165 s 91 64, 67 s 23 209
Protocol 1, Art 1 26, 27, s 93 67, 69 s 25 216
44, 45 s 96 36 Law of Property Act 1922
Family Law Act 1996 157 s 116 77, 78, 226, 231, s 145 180
s 33 159 232 Sched 15 180
xxiii
A01_SMIT2607_01_SE_FM.QXD 2/3/10 4:04 PM Page xxiv
Table of legislation
Law of Property Act 1925 Law of Property Act 1969 Trusts of Land and
24, 113, 149, 150, s 23 109 Appointment of
173 s 25 112 Trustees Act 1996
s 1 16, 77, 151 Law of Property 16, 25, 134, 148,
(6) 150, 151 (Miscellaneous 149–152, 154–156,
s 2 162 Provisions) Act 1989 159, 162–164, 167,
(1)(ii) 161 52–54, 68, 82, 104, 288, 298
s 4 226 143 s 3 163
s 27(2) 161 s 1 54 s 4 164
s 30 154 s 2 52, 81–83, 141, 178 s 6 153
s 34(1) 152 (1) 83 (2) 153
(2) 151, 152 (5) 82, 83 (3) 153
s 36 151 Leasehold Property (Repairs) s 7 153
(2) 139, 140, 144 Act 1938 198 s 8 153, 162
s 44 109 Limitation Act 1980 40 (2) 154
s 52 54, 55 Sched 1, para 8(4) 40 s 9 153, 157
s 53(1)(a) 56, 143 Matrimonial Causes Act s 9A 157
(b) 56, 60, 68 1973 s 10(1) 154
(2) 56, 57, 60, 68 s 24 90, 156 (3) 154
s 54(2) 55 s 25 156 s 11 153
s 56 259, 261, 263 Perpetuities and s 12 153, 158 –160, 170
s 60(3) 58 Accumulations Act s 13 153, 158 –160
s 62 247, 248–254 2009 135 s 14 153, 154, 156, 159,
s 78 263, 265–267 Prescription Act 1832 240 160, 161, 164, 167,
(1) 267 s 4 240 168, 170
s 79 214, 265, 266 Protection from Eviction Act s 15 152, 153, 155, 162,
s 84 263 1977 194 164, 165, 166, 167,
s 101 282 Rights of Light Act 1959 168 –170
s 103 282 238 (1)(c) 169
s 104(2) 281 Settled Land Act 1925 149, (1)(d) 168 –170
s 137(10) 110 152 (4) 164
s 141 208 Statute of Frauds 1677 62 s 16 162
s 142 208 Tribunals, Courts and Sched 1 152
s 146 200 Enforcement Act Unfair Terms in Consumer
(2) 200–202 2007 203 Contracts
(4) 202, 203 Trustee Act 1925 Regulations (SI 1999/2083)
s 149(6) 180 s 34 150, 157, 161, 189 279
s 196(3) 140 Trustee Act 2000 Wills Act 1837
s 205(xxvii) 174 s 8 153 s 18A 146
xxiv
M01_SMIT2607_01_SE_C01.QXD 2/3/10 4:12 PM Page 1
INTRODUCTION TO
Part 1 LAND LAW
5 Human rights 26
1 Introducing land law
he first five chapters – all quite short – are designed to introduce the reader to some
T basic land law principles. Land law contains many new ideas and technical terms and
the first objective is to survey the scene. This survey is likely to provoke numerous ques-
tions about how these ideas work out: these will be considered in subsequent chapters.
What is land law?

Most transactions relating to land are based on contract. A simple example would be a
contract to clean the windows of a house. There is no need for a special body of law to
deal with disputes regarding window cleaning: the law of contract provides the answers.
What is special about land law is that it allows somebody to be affected by an obligation
when contract cannot apply. Take this example. I agree that Malcolm can possess my
house for a year at a rent of £1,000 a month (a lease or tenancy). A week later, I sell and
transfer the house to Nicola. As between Malcolm and Nicola, there is no contract.
However, because a lease is an interest in land it will bind Nicola, who will have to allow
Malcolm to possess it for the full year. Land law is concerned with those rights and
interests relating to land which can affect purchasers: these are what we call interests in
land, or proprietary interests. The many controversial policy issues concerning the
extent and effect of interests in land will form the basis of much of this book.
The way in which the law draws lines as to what is an interest in land is illustrated by
the following example, taken from the law relating to covenants (promises in formal
witnessed documents called deeds). Alan has both an expensive house and a smaller
adjoining one. He is selling the smaller one and is concerned about how its use and
appearance might affect his retained house. Accordingly, Alan requires the purchaser,
Brian, to promise (i) not to use his house for any purpose other than a family home and
(ii) to paint it every five years. Nine years later, Brian sells his house to Caroline.
When we consider possible issues as between Alan and Brian, these can be dealt with
under normal contract principles: there is little or no need for any special land law.
However, it is the effect of these arrangements on Caroline which is more interesting.
Contract will not suffice: the burden of contracts affects nobody save the parties. This is
3
What issues arise in land law?
unaffected by the Contracts (Rights of Third Parties) Act 1999, as that relates only to the
benefit of contracts. For Caroline to be bound by the burden of the covenant, Alan will
need to be able to assert an interest in land.
The promise to use the land only as family home is what lawyers describe as a
restrictive covenant. It has been recognised as an interest in land since 1848 and so
can bind Caroline. She will, for example, be unable to use the house as a shop. The
promise to paint is a positive covenant: the difference between restrictive and positive
covenants is based on whether expenditure (or work) is required. Positive covenants have
never been recognised as interests in land. It follows that Caroline is bound by the family
home promise, but has no obligation to paint. This distinction between restrictive and
positive covenants is further considered in Chapter 17. As we will see, it is by no means
obvious that the distinction between restrictive and positive covenants can be justified
today. This is one example of a controversial issue arising in land law.
What issues arise in land law?

Our principal concern is with interests in land – interests capable of binding purchasers.
What exactly are these interests? They are summarised in the following section, in order
to aid familiarity with the terminology of land law. The various interests provide the basis
of the chapters in Parts 3 and 4. The list of interests in land has been fine-tuned over
many centuries and most of the categories are well settled, though their detailed rules
still give rise to litigation. However, some categories continue to provoke controversy as
to whether they are (or should be) interests in land. This is especially true of licences
(permission to do something on land: Chapter 15) and positive covenants (Chapter 17).
These still developing areas mark the outer boundaries of land law.
Some interests have attracted specific rules as to how they operate; these will be con-
sidered in the relevant chapters. A good example is provided by tenancies (often called
leases). Suppose Harriet has a tenancy of a house from Ian for a year. Can she complain
if the cooker stops working or there is a problem with the drains? Chapter 14 is devoted
to the way in which the landlord and tenant relationship operates. We shall see that she
can complain about the drains, but not normally the cooker.
A particular feature of interests in land is that there is a large body of law on how they
are created. This is dealt with in Part 2. They normally require writing and the more
important interests have to be created by a formal witnessed document, called a deed.
One example is that the transfer of land requires a deed. These requirements are generally
described as formality rules. As interests in land are increasingly being entered on com-
puterised registers, these formality rules are giving way to requirements of electronic
registration. We shall ask the important question why land transactions require special
formalities.
Formality rules have the potential to give rise to unfairness. Suppose Rachel orally
agrees to sell a vacant house to Sally and agrees that Sally can immediately start work
on renovating the house. After Sally has done a lot of work on the basis that the house
4
Interests in land
will be hers, Rachel denies any obligation to sell, arguing that contracts to sell land have
to be in writing. This would enable Rachel to take the benefit of Sally’s renovation.
Although Rachel is correct that such contracts require writing, it would be quite unfair
for her to rely on the absence of formality when she has encouraged Sally’s expenditure.
The courts will find a way of avoiding formality requirements and therefore rule in Sally’s
favour.
Property rights can sometimes arise without any form of agreement. Two situations
will be studied. The first is where one person has adverse possession of land: this
means possessing it without the owner’s permission. The rules changed in 2002 legisla-
tion, but prior to 2002 the adverse possessor became owner after 12 years. The second
situation relates to fixtures: objects fixed to land which become part of it. An example
is where Richard builds a house including a few of Simon’s bricks: the bricks are now part
of Richard’s house and are no longer owned by Simon. 1
We have seen that the nature of an interest in land is that it binds later purchasers of
Introducing land law

the land. However, that does not mean that it will always bind purchasers. This com-
petition between earlier and later interests raises priorities questions (Chapter 10). In
the modern law, most land is registered (the owner is described as proprietor). Whether
an interest affects purchasers usually depends on whether it has been entered on the
register. Let us return to the example where Brian promised Alan not to use his house
other than as a family home: a restrictive covenant. It was noted that this is an interest
capable of binding the purchaser, Caroline. To be more precise, we should say that
Caroline will be bound only if the restrictive covenant has been entered on the register.
The fact that it is an interest in land does Alan no good if he doesn’t protect it. There is
a constant tension between the needs of interest holders and the needs of purchasers.
This is why priority disputes give rise to controversy. One example is where Alan has failed
to protect his interest, and Caroline is well aware of it. Should Caroline lose the priority,
which would normally follow from Alan’s failure to protect? As we shall see, it seems that
she still wins.
Interests in land
In this section, mention will be made of the most important interests in land. Nearly all
of them feature in later chapters; the present purpose is to explain some of the technical
terms encountered in land law.
We will divide interests into two categories. The first (splitting ownership) covers
what may be described as ownership or enjoyment rights. These involve full enjoyment
of the land: living in a house, using an office or leasing out land and receiving rent from
a tenant. The second category involves more limited and specific rights. They do not
involve full enjoyment, but confer rights which may be exercised against the owner.
A good example is provided by Alan’s restrictive covenant, discussed above. Alan has
an interest against the owner (Brian), but it would be strange to describe them as
sharing ownership.
5
Interests in land
● Splitting ownership
There are two ways in which ownership may be split. Most simply, ownership may be
shared by two people at the same time. Felicity and George may buy a house as their
home and become joint owners of it. We say that they have concurrent interests.
Alternatively, two or more people can enjoy land successively: successive interests.
Thus Larry could say in his will that land is to go ‘to my widow Martha for life and thereafter
to my son Norman’. This means that the land can be enjoyed by Martha for her life, but
thereafter will be Norman’s. If it is a house, it means that Martha can live in it for her life-
time. Alternatively, if the land has been rented out by Larry, Martha will receive the rents.
In neither case will Norman be able to claim anything while Martha is alive, but after she
dies he will be the sole owner. We say that Martha’s right is in possession (signifying
present enjoyment) and Norman’s is in remainder (signifying future enjoyment).
A rather odd feature of English land law is that it does not recognise ownership as an
interest. Instead, it recognises estates. The nature of the estate is that it establishes the time
for which the interest is enjoyed. Two forms of estate recognised in the modern law are the
life estate and the fee simple. We say that Martha has a life estate: this is quite natural
terminology as she has the benefit of the land for her life. Norman has a fee simple, which
has no time limit. The fee simple is much closer to what we might view as ownership.
The simplicity of having two estates (whether in possession or remainder) is impaired
by the fact that conditions can be applied to them. Two examples may be given. The first
is a condition precedent. Thus I could say ‘to my son Richard if he obtains an Upper
Second class degree by the age of 25’. This gives Richard what we describe as contingent
fee simple: he gets it only if he obtains the degree. It becomes obvious that it is difficult
to talk about anybody as ‘the owner’ in this example. It might be reasonable to refer to
Norman as having deferred ownership in the previous example, but the contingent
nature of Richard’s interest makes it difficult to describe him as owner.
The second example is a condition subsequent. Thus I could say ‘to Salman on con-
dition that he never takes up smoking’. This means that Salman will lose his interest should
he ever start to smoke. When an interest is limited in this way, it is called a qualified
interest. In most situations there is no such qualification; the interest is then described
as absolute. Qualified interests attract a morass of complex and largely outdated rules.
There are two forms: conditional interests and determinable interests. These are briefly
described in Chapter 11.
Let us return to the proposition that English land law does not recognise ownership.
The reader might respond that millions of people buy homes expecting to own them:
how can this be reconciled with the ideas just outlined? The point is a good one.
However, the answer is that a fee simple may, in practical terms, be the same as owner-
ship. We have already seen that the fee simple is fairly close to ownership as it may last
indefinitely. If it is both in possession (not in remainder or contingent) and absolute (not
qualified), then it is as close to ownership as makes no difference. Technically, a person
buying a house is purchasing a fee simple absolute in possession. As we see in
Chapter 3, the fee simple absolute in possession has played a central role in land law
since reforming legislation in 1925.
6
Interests in land
These estates are ones recognised in medieval times: they are called freehold
estates. A different sort of estate (still splitting the use of land by time) is the lease or
tenancy. Rachel might lease her house to Sarah for one year at a monthly rent of £800.
Sarah (described as tenant or lessee) then has a lease from Rachel (the landlord or lessor).
She has a leasehold estate. Leases can be created for as long or short a period as the
parties want.
It might be asked why, after several centuries, we continue to have these categories
of leasehold and freehold estates. Leasehold estates exist where there is a specified
maximum length of time (such as five years), whereas freehold estates exist where the
length is indeterminate (fee simple) or the termination date is unknown (life estate). That
definition offers no clue as to why they are different categories. More important is the
fact that rent is nearly always payable if there is a lease, whereas the holder of a life estate
almost never pays for it. The reason is that life interests are normally created by the owner 1
(slipping into colloquial language) for the benefit of family members: illustrated by the

example involving Martha and Norman. By contrast, leases are usually commercial trans-
actions with no element of gift.
The payment of rent means that the landlord, Rachel in our example, continues to
benefit from the land even though it is Sarah who is occupying it. We still say that Rachel
has a fee simple absolute in possession. It is in possession because she is able to claim the
rent: there is no need for her to have an immediate right to physical possession. Perhaps
more important is the position of a purchaser. Although many purchasers want to occupy
land and would not be interested in purchasing Rachel’s interest, there are other purchasers
who view land as a source of income rather than occupation. Such purchasers will be very
happy to purchase from Rachel, knowing that they will be receiving rent from Sarah.
In contrast, almost no purchaser wants to buy land subject to a life interest. Because
it is undesirable to render land incapable of sale, the law sets out to ensure that it is
always possible to purchase the fee simple absolute in possession. Upon sale, the holder
of a life interest ceases to have an interest in the land. These ideas are further explored
in Chapter 14.
● Other interests in land

There is quite a long list of interests in land, but we will concentrate on those which are
most commonly encountered.
Mortgages
Suppose Gillian and Harry are buying their first house. It is almost inevitable that they will
need a loan from a bank or building society to cover most of the cost. A simple loan of a
large amount to two young people with no assets would be very risky for the lender – there
is a good chance the sum would not be repaid. However, a mortgage over the house makes
the transaction viable. It means that if Gillian and Harry are unable to pay then (as a last resort)
the house can be sold to pay off the loan. This makes lenders more willing to lend money.
The mortgage is the principal example of a security interest. Unlike other interests,
security interests don’t involve use of the land or impose obligations as to land use. They
7
Interests in land
simply operate in the background to ensure that loans are repaid. Their status as interests
in land means that any purchaser from Gillian and Harry is bound by their mortgage: the
lender can still have the property sold.
Easements and profits

These two interests are closely related, with very similar rules applying to them. They
enable the benefits of land to be split, though in a form very different to concurrent and
successive interests.
Let us take the profit of fishing as an example. Suppose Ed sells Felicity fishing rights
over a river on his land. Ed’s land may provide him with a number of practical benefits:
living in a house, farming a field and fishing from the river. Just one of these benefits, the
right to fish, has been sold to Felicity. However, Felicity isn’t the owner of the river: Ed
can still use it for swimming or boating.
Easements similarly involve a right to use land, though (unlike profits) not to take
things from it. The best-known example is a right of way. Suppose a farmer, Giles,
owns a farm on which there is a cottage. Giles sells the cottage to Hayley, but keeps the
farm. The cottage is located 50 metres from a road which marks the farm boundary;
there is a track leading from the road to the cottage and the more distant parts of the
farm. It is obvious that Hayley will need access over that track in order to get to the
cottage. That right of access is the right of way. It is obviously essential if the cottage is
to be used (see Figure 1.1). As an interest in land, it may bind future purchasers
from Giles.
One particular feature of easements is that they always benefit one plot of land (the
benefited land: the cottage) but burden another (the burdened land: the farm).
Profits can also benefit land, though they can be created so as to benefit an individual.
Thus Felicity could enjoy the right to fish either as an individual or as owner of neigh-
bouring land. If she enjoys it as a neighbour, the benefit will pass automatically to any-
body she sells her land to.
Figure 1.1 Hayley’s right of way to her cottage: an easement
8
Why have a list of interests in land?
Restrictive covenants
We encountered restrictive covenants early in this chapter, in the example where Brian
promised Alan to use his house only as a family home. Restrictive covenants are rather
like easements, in that they involve two plots of land. However, most easements involve
a right to do something on a neighbour’s land, as with a right of way. In contrast, a
restrictive covenant is a right to stop a neighbour from doing something.
Restrictive covenants are commonly insisted upon by a person who is selling part of a
large plot. Let us return to the example of Giles selling a cottage and retaining the farm.
Giles may be concerned that the purchaser (Hayley) will rebuild the cottage as an office
block, rendering the farm less attractive (and less valuable). Thus he might insist that
Hayley promises not to develop the cottage. The price at which Hayley buys will be
affected by any significant obligations which Giles insists upon.
It has been noted earlier in the chapter that positive obligations are not recognised 1
as interests in land. They may be fully effective contracts between the parties to the

obligation, but will not bind any later purchaser of the land involved.
Estate contracts
Ursula contracts to sell her house to Vera. A day later, Ursula receives a higher offer from
Will. She decides to forget about Vera and proceeds to transfer the land to Will. Normally,
contracts affect only the contracting parties (Ursula and Vera). However, a contract for an
interest in land has long been treated as creating an immediate interest: it is called
an estate contract. Provided that Vera has registered her estate contract and is able
and willing to pay the agreed purchase price, she can claim the house from Will. This
enhances the position of buyers, who can sell their existing homes without fear of their
intended new home ending up with a rival purchaser. More generally, it helps ensure an
orderly system of land purchase, limiting the temptation to accept higher offers.
Estate contracts cover more than contracts to buy the land: they include contracts for
leases or mortgages. Another form of estate contract is an option. For example, Ivy might
for £35,000 give an option to Jake whereby he can buy Ivy’s house for £200,000 within
the next six months. This means that Jake has a choice whether or not to buy the house.
If it is worth more than £200,000, then it makes sense for him to buy. Should the value
fall to, say, £175,000 then it would not make financial sense for Jake to buy – though he
would lose the £35,000 he has paid. It should be stressed that Ivy has no right to force
Jake to buy: this is what distinguishes an option from a normal sale agreement. Because
an option is an interest in land, it can bind any purchaser from Ivy.

The law contains a list of recognised interests (the more important ones being listed
above): landowners are not allowed to create new ones. One reason for this is that too
much flexibility would make the purchase of land more complex, as purchasers would
have no clear idea of what rights they should be looking out for. If extensive obligations
were to be imposed on purchasers, that might mean that owning land could become less
9
attractive. In turn, that might impede the most useful and economically beneficial use of
land.
Why have the individual interests listed above been recognised? The courts have made
what are essentially pragmatic decisions based on the utility of the right, whether its
operation is reasonably certain and whether transactions with land would be impeded if
purchasers were to be bound.
This does not mean that the list is fixed for all time. Individual interests (such as ease-
ments) are developed over time. One modern example of an easement is a right to park
a car. This is a development of easements rather than a completely new interest. It may
be possible to develop completely new interests, though this is much more controversial.
As mentioned earlier in this chapter, there has been debate in the past 50 years whether
to recognise positive covenants and licences (permission to enter and remain on land).
Visit www.mylawchamber.co.uk/smithintro to access

multiple-choice practice questions, exam-style questions
with answer guidance, an online glossary, flashcards,
weblinks and regular legal updates in land law.
10
2 Trusts and equitable

interests
uch of modern English land law derives from a strange duality in the legal system.
M Today we think of a single court system applying legal rules. Until the 1870s, it was
quite different: different courts operated different principles and sometimes reached
different results. The original courts were generally described as common law courts. The
Lord Chancellor exercised a separate jurisdiction. In the course of time, this was recog-
nised as a court: the Court of Chancery. It sounds like a recipe for anarchy, but in fact the
results fitted together well. The body of rules established by the Court of Chancery is
generally described as equity.
Although the separate courts have disappeared, equity survives. For example, legisla-
tion and books refer to equitable interests in land (those earlier recognised by the Court
of Chancery) and legal interests in land (those recognised by the common law courts).
It sounds terribly confused, but it will be seen in both this and the following chapter
that the distinction between legal and equitable rights performs a useful function in the
modern law.
In this chapter, we consider the most important examples of equitable interests.
The trust
Suppose that Martin owns land (rented out to tenants). Martin is going abroad for a few
years and wants his young daughter, Natasha, to receive the rents. He transfers the land
to a friend, Oliver, on the express basis that Oliver is to hold the property for Natasha’s
benefit. The common law courts would say that Oliver was the owner. No direct relation-
ship existed between Oliver and Natasha and accordingly she had no remedy if Oliver
kept the rents for himself. The Lord Chancellor, observing that this was quite unfair, told
Oliver that he might indeed own the land, but he was under a duty to apply the rents
for Natasha’s benefit.
This example illustrates the trust: the most significant development arising from the
Court of Chancery. We say that Oliver is a trustee and Natasha is a beneficiary under the
trust. It is significant to note that equity does not deny Oliver’s ownership; rather, it qualifies
what Oliver can do with the benefits from the land. This means that Oliver can deal with the
land. For example, he can enter into fresh leases if the original tenants leave. In functional
11
Other equitable interests: remedies
terms, we can say that Oliver, as trustee, is managing the land for the benefit of Natasha.
The trustee status of Oliver differs from that of a manager or agent in that he owns the
land: he does not have to refer back to the absent Martin when difficult decisions have
to be made. Third parties (such as future tenants) are safe in dealing with Oliver.
A later (but still many centuries old) development was to say that Natasha’s rights
would affect purchasers from Oliver. However, not every purchaser would be bound: the
Chancery courts required the conscience of the purchaser to be affected. This would
apply if the purchaser was aware of the trusts or should have been aware of them. Such
a purchaser was described as having notice of the trusts. Once purchasers could be
bound, lawyers began to regard beneficiaries such as Natasha as having a form of
equitable ownership. The common law courts might say that Oliver is owner, but the
Court of Chancery regarded Natasha as the owner. It has been accepted for over 400 years
that in any conflict the Court of Chancery has precedence: this means that Oliver cannot
insist on his common law rights against Natasha.
The resulting position has been found very useful. It enables land to be efficiently
managed by the trustee for the beneficiary, while recognising that the real economic
value of the land is vested in the beneficiary. Recognising the beneficiary as having an
equitable interest in land makes the trust a safe vehicle for settlors such as Martin to use:
there is less risk of Oliver destroying Natasha’s rights. Consider the dangers if Natasha
only had a remedy against Oliver. Oliver might simply transfer the land as a gift to his
son Peter. Oliver might open himself up to personal liability in damages, but that is of
little comfort to Natasha if Oliver is bankrupt and cannot pay. With an interest in land,
Natasha can readily bring a claim against the current landowner, Peter. It might be added
that all forms of property can be held under trusts, so Martin could just as easily transfer
shares to Oliver on trust.
Other equitable interests: remedies

The trust is not the only development arising from the Court of Chancery. The Lord
Chancellor developed other principles which were based on what good conscience
required: the fairness of the situation mattered more than legal form. Unsurprisingly, this
meant that equitable principles were far more flexible than common law principles. One
consequence of this was that it was easier for the Court of Chancery to develop new
interests in land. The restrictive covenant mentioned in Chapter 1 provides an example.
Another very important right developed by the Lord Chancellor was the mortgage.
Originally, the lender obtained the legal fee simple absolute in possession as security for
repayment of the loan (though the borrower would still occupy the land). The Lord
Chancellor ensured that, whatever the document said, the borrower could get the land
back if the debt was repaid: this is the equitable right to redeem, giving the borrower the
equity of redemption. The structure of modern mortgages is different, but there is still an
equitable right to end a mortgage by paying off the loan.
In addition, the Court of Chancery would give different remedies. The standard com-
mon law remedy is money damages, whereas Chancery might order that an agreement
12
Equitable interests in the modern law
be carried out (specific performance) or that some wrong should not be done (injunc-
tion). This is important as regards contracts to sell land (estate contracts). The fact that
the seller could be ordered to transfer the land to the purchaser meant that Chancery
viewed the purchaser as being the person really entitled to the land, even before a
specific performance order. This is backed up by the saying that equity treats as done
that which ought to be done. It was on this basis that estate contracts were accepted as
equitable interests in land.
Another point relating to remedies is that a transaction can sometimes be attacked by
an equitable remedy. Suppose that Terry agrees to sell two of three fields to Vera. Their
lawyers draw up the sale documents, but mistakenly they include all three fields in the
transfer. Neither Terry nor Vera spots this. These facts give rise to the contractual remedy
of rectification for mistake: the court will order that the transfer be amended to exclude
the third field. The point of interest to us is that Terry will have an equitable right to the 2
field even before the court order. This type of right is often described as an equity rather
Trusts and equitable interests

than an equitable interest, though it can bind purchasers.1

The common law courts and the Court of Chancery were fused into a single court
(the High Court) by the Judicature Acts 1873–1875. This has not affected the principles
discussed above. The courts still say that Oliver is the legal owner holding on trust
for Natasha. It is difficult to believe that the trust would have arisen without the twin
common law and equitable jurisdictions, but it can survive without them.
Whether the difference between legal and equitable rights is justified outside the
context of trusts is more questionable. Indeed, the past century has seen some con-
vergence of legal and equitable rules. One example is that equitable rights and remedies
are generally said to be discretionary: they are available only if the claimant is acting
fairly. By contrast, there is no such limit on the exercise of legal rights. There may still be
some truth in this, but the cases reveal that the differences are diminishing. In particular,
a person acting unfairly is likely to find that they cannot always enforce even legal rights.
We have seen that the major difference between legal and equitable interests is that
equitable interests affect purchasers only if they have notice. In the modern law, nearly
all interests require entry on a register before they can affect purchasers. This applies to
both legal and equitable interests. This forces us to ask whether it remains relevant to
describe the restrictive covenant (to take one example) as an equitable right. Just like
a legal right, it will bind a purchaser if, but only if, it is protected on the register. Yet
the registration rules themselves distinguish between legal and equitable rights. In
particular, they are entered on the register in different ways; the different forms of entry
have differing effects. However, it is less clear that these differences should survive in the
future.
1
Equities are briefly considered on p. 110 below.
13
It may be concluded that the trust, which is deeply imbedded in modern land law,
requires a continuing distinction between legal and equitable rights. Outside that con-
text, the future role of a special category of equitable rights is becoming controversial.

14
3 Legislative reform:
1925 to 2002
particular feature of land law is that so much of it has been affected by legislation,
A more than in subjects such as contract or torts. One reason for this is that many land
law principles date back to the Middle Ages and had accumulated complex and anti-
quated rules. By the end of the nineteenth century, the need for reform was acute.
Apart from clearing up the clutter from the past, a major objective has been to make it
easy to purchase (or lease or mortgage) land. Having a wide range of interests in land may
be fine for the holders of the interests, but can cause problems for purchasers. These prob-
lems are twofold. The first is that the process of buying land may be lengthy and complex,
as the purchaser may have to deal with a multitude of people and undertake elaborate
checks (especially reading long and complex documents) before it is safe to proceed. The
second category of problem is that the purchaser cannot be confident about acquiring
land free of undiscovered interests, despite taking time and trouble over the purchase.
Apart from land purchase being slow and expensive, it might be impossible to buy if
agreement could not be reached with all those with successive or concurrent interests in
the land. A simple example is where land is given to Andrew for life and thereafter to
Betty. If Betty were an infant, it might well be impossible to buy the land. The result could
be inefficient land use: a cost to the country, as well as the individuals involved.
English property law was significantly restructured by a series of statutes in 1925.
Though a fair proportion of the 1925 legislation has been amended and re-enacted in
recent years, much has survived to the present day, as have nearly all the basic ideas. It
might be added that the 1925 reforms themselves had roots in the previous half-century:
not all of the legislation was new in 1925.
Part of the purpose of the 1925 legislation was to get rid of unnecessary complexities and
rules that land law had accumulated over the centuries. This backwards-looking material
need not detain us. The range of interests in land is barely affected by the legislation. The
central changes are to the form in which interests exist and how they will affect purchasers.
A strategy for estates

We start with the question: what interests do purchasers want to buy? In order to facilitate
land transactions and, thereby, efficient land use, we need to ensure that purchasers can
15
readily purchase those interests. We start with freehold estates (life interests and the fee
simple) and then move on to leasehold estates (tenancies).
● Freehold estates
Nearly all purchasers want to buy ‘the land’. We have seen that ownership of land is not,
technically, recognised by English land law. The closest right is the fee simple absolute in
possession. This is what purchasers want to buy. Virtually nobody wants to purchase life
estates or remainders: their length is uncertain and they are simply not what purchasers
are looking for. It follows that a central objective is to ensure that there is always some-
body with the fee simple absolute in possession and that a purchaser can safely purchase
from that person.
The 1925 legislation

That central objective explains section 1 of the Law of Property Act 1925, which
states that the only legal freehold estate that can exist today is the fee simple absolute in
possession. This means that there will always be somebody with a fee simple absolute in
possession: it is this person that a purchaser of the freehold will deal with. Life interests
and remainders can still exist, but only as equitable interests under a trust.
If the law were simply to limit the number of legal estates, purchasers would still have
to discover equitable interests and negotiate with their holders. Suppose Richard and
Sally hold on trust for Andrew for life and thereafter for Betty. Without further provisions,
a purchaser would almost certainly have notice of Andrew and Betty’s equitable interests
and therefore be bound by them. Purchasers do not want to be bound by life interests
or remainders and so they would have to ascertain that Andrew and Betty approved the
sale. Purchase of land would be made no easier.
To avoid these problems, the legislation entitles the trustees (Richard and Sally) to sell
the legal fee simple free of interests under trusts. These interests then take effect against
the proceeds of sale held by the trustees, not against the purchaser. This shifting of
interests from the land to the proceeds of sale is called overreaching. It means that a
purchaser can deal with just Richard and Sally and can ignore the beneficial interests of
Andrew and Betty (whether or not the purchaser knows about them). Richard and Sally
might, for example, buy Marks & Spencer shares with the proceeds of sale: Andrew will
now have a life interest in the shares and will be entitled to the dividend income from
them.
So far we have been considering successive interests. However, it was thought
that concurrent interests might also pose problems for purchasers: this is further dis-
cussed in Chapter 12. In order to avoid similar problems for purchasers, there is again a
trust and the concurrent interests can be overreached.
The Trusts of Land and Appointment of Trustees Act 1996 (TLATA)

Under the 1925 legislation, there is a trust whenever there are successive and concurrent
interests. The object of TLATA is to regulate how that trust of land operates. For example,
it tells us what powers the trustees have and whether the beneficiaries have rights to
16
occupy the land. Very importantly, it gives the court discretion to settle any disputes
regarding the land. Let us return to the example involving Richard and Sally as trustees
and Andrew and Betty as beneficiaries. There may be disagreement as to whether the
land should be sold. Whether there is disagreement between Richard and Sally or
between them and the beneficiaries, the court can decide what should happen.
Though some of these issues had been dealt with by the 1925 legislation, TLATA intro-
duces much more comprehensive rules. It provides the focus of Chapter 12.
● Leasehold estates
Leasehold estates do not pose the same problems as freehold estates such as life interests
and remainders. Experience shows that purchasers are happy to buy leases and to buy
land that is subject to a lease. Suppose that Fast Food Ltd wants to open an outlet in 3
Bristol. It wants to have a lease because it doesn’t have the resources to purchase a fee
Legislative reform: 1925 to 2002

simple; anyway, it does not want a long-term commitment to any particular plot of land.
It would be happy either to take a lease from a landlord for, say, five years or to purchase
a lease from an existing tenant. Suppose Gourmet Meals Ltd has a lease of a restaurant
from Megaproperty Ltd (the landlord) for ten years and wants to leave after five years.
Fast Food will be perfectly happy to take over Gourmet Meals’ lease, making a small pay-
ment if the rent is below current market levels. This is an example of a sale of a lease.
Many purchasers buy land as an investment, intending to receive rent from tenants
rather than to occupy the land. This means that it is quite easy for Megaproperty to find
a purchaser for the freehold of the restaurant, despite the lease of Gourmet Meals (or
Fast Food). There are two reasons why this is different from buying land subject to a life
interest. The first is that life tenants do not pay rent: invariably, life interests are created
by members of the family making gifts of their property and not as commercial transactions.
In contrast, a purchaser from Megaproperty will receive rent. The second reason is that
a purchaser knows how long the lease will last. Even if the rent is below current rental
levels, the purchaser can calculate the cost of this over the duration of the lease and
negotiate for a lower purchase price to take account of it. With a life interest, nobody
knows how long the life interest holder will live: any purchaser would be taking a gamble.
This shows that land can readily be sold despite the fact that the purchaser is bound
by a lease. The 1925 legislation recognises this by allowing leasehold estates to be legal.
We therefore have two types of ownership right that are commonly bought and sold: the
fee simple absolute in possession (whether or not subject to a lease) and the lease.
● Registration of title
In the modern law, the great majority (over 90 per cent) of houses and other plots of land
are registered. This means that there is a register that identifies the relevant plot of land
and who owns it. The system is not yet universal, but that may be achieved within the
next decade. Registration makes it much easier to buy and sell land. For unregistered
land (the 10 per cent not yet registered), purchasers have to read through documents
transferring the land from one person to another – these are the title deeds. This can
17
A strategy for interests other than estates
be a lengthy process and doesn’t guarantee that the seller owns the land. By contrast,
the registration system identifies who has the fee simple absolute in possession and, most
importantly, guarantees that information. This makes the purchase of land simpler and
safer; there are no longer any title deeds. It is also possible to register leases, which assists
the purchase of leases. The system dates back to the nineteenth century, but is today
governed by the Land Registration Act 2002.
Land registration is studied in later chapters, but one point to note is that the 2002
legislation makes provision for a fully computerised system. Not only are the registers held
in electronic form, but also sale of land will very soon take place purely electronically.
A separate point is that registration makes it easier to talk about ownership of land. If
Sarah is registered as proprietor (the word the system uses) of the fee simple absolute in
possession, then we might as well say that she owns the land.
A strategy for interests other than estates

Overreaching does not make sense for other interests. Suppose Rachel has a right of way
over Tim’s land in order to gain access to her house, which is 50 metres away from the
public road. If Tim sells his land to Ursula, it is essential that Rachel should be able to have
access over the land now owned by Ursula. To give a right equivalent to a right of way
over the purchase price paid to Tim would be nonsensical.
● An interim solution: land charges legislation

The Land Charges Act 1925 (re-enacted in 1972 with only minor changes) required
certain listed interests to be registered. It applies only until title to the land is registered,
so today it applies only to the 10 per cent not yet registered. The listed interests bind
purchasers only if they are registered. What interests are within this scheme? The answer
– rather oversimplified – is that most equitable interests (but not equitable estates)
have to be registered. These include equitable mortgages, estate contracts and restrictive
covenants.
It might be noted that the 1925 legislation leaves virtually no role for the old doctrine
of notice (whereby equitable interests bound purchasers who knew about them or ought
to have known about them). If the interest is a share in ownership under a trust then it
will usually be overreached and not affect a purchaser at all. Most other types of equit-
able interest have to be entered on the land charges register before a purchaser can be
bound. If they were not registered then they do not bind purchasers, even if they are
aware of the unregistered interest.
● The modern solution: registration of title

Once the fee simple absolute in possession or lease has been registered, the land charges
scheme ceases to apply. This means that land charges, as described above, is being phased
out over the next decade.
18
Commonhold: a new estate?
There may be some surprise that there are two different registration systems. In part,
this is because they operate quite differently. Registration of title (often described as
land registration) uses a separate register (computer file today) for each plot of land.
This requires every plot to be identified and mapped. This time-consuming exercise is
a major reason for the delay in rolling out land registration. By contrast, land charges
are registered by reference to the name of the owner. That system is simple, but it
is prone to human error and is widely regarded as much inferior to registration of title.
One obvious point is that it doesn’t tell the purchaser who is entitled to the fee simple
absolute in possession: to discover this, the title deeds have to be inspected.
Once title is registered, the basic principle is that all interests have to be entered before
they can affect purchasers. This applies as much to legal rights as to equitable rights.
There are some exceptions, which are called overriding interests. This controversial
category includes both legal and equitable interests. One example is a legal lease not 3
exceeding seven years. It may be justified as it would be too much trouble to register

short leases, which will normally be obvious to purchasers. Another example is that those
in actual occupation do not need to protect their interests. This applies mainly to equit-
able interests. Its rationale is that a sensible purchaser should inspect the land and make
inquiries of occupiers, as well as look at the register.
It may be noted that we register the fee simple and lease in order to facilitate their
sale; technically, it is these estates rather than the land which are registered. Other interests
are unlikely to be bought and sold; these other interests are entered on the register of
the relevant fee simple or lease. The register is designed to provide purchasers of a fee
simple or lease with a comprehensive picture as to what rights will bind them. That com-
prehensive picture is, of course, rendered incomplete by overriding interests.
One consequence of these rules is that it is less relevant to draw distinctions between
legal and equitable interests today. Nevertheless, the registration provisions continue to
distinguish them. One example is that it is only legal leases not exceeding seven years
which are overriding.

Commonhold was introduced by the Commonhold and Leasehold Reform Act 2002.
Commonhold will not feature in later chapters and is therefore dealt with here at rela-
tively full length.
Commonhold is designed for properties with a high degree of interdependence. In
particular, flats require careful management. To take an obvious point, lower-floor flats
depend on the roof being sound. If the roof leaks water, this will affect everybody. This
means that there has to be somebody responsible for undertaking work such as roof
maintenance and, in appropriate cases, clear obligations on the individual flat-holders to
share the cost.
If the flats are held by tenants with short leases (a year, for example), there is no prob-
lem. The landlord will undertake the repairs and their anticipated cost will be factored
into the rent. The problems arise when people wish to purchase flats rather than lease
19
them. The major stumbling block is that positive obligations do not bind purchasers
of the fee simple. If the owner of the top-floor flat promises to repair the roof or to
contribute towards the cost of repair, this promise could not be enforced against any
purchaser of the flat.
The result was that owning (holding the fee simple absolute in possession) flats
was not practicable. Instead, the universal practice was to lease flats on very long leases
(perhaps 99 years), the tenants paying a purchase price (close to the freehold value)
and a nominal or very low rent. The landlord would undertake repairs and charge them
to the tenants. It should be explained that positive obligations can be enforced against
later purchasers of leases: a very different rule than applies for the fee simple.
The leasehold solution ran into criticism for two reasons. First, it failed to give effect to
the aspirations of very many people to own their flats. Second, there was dissatisfaction
with the repairs being undertaken by landlords and the charges for them. Commonhold
is designed to remedy these problems.
The commonhold scheme is complex and space permits only a brief description.
Each individual flat or unit will be owned in fee simple, though with some special rules
applying to it. There will be a commonhold association (CA), which is responsible for
running the commonhold scheme. This scheme will include the individual units and
common areas such as stairs, lifts and gardens. The CA, a company controlled by the
owners of the units, will own these common areas in fee simple.
There are two particularly important aspects of commonhold. The first is that the owners
of the units, through the medium of the CA, control the management of the land: decid-
ing when a roof is to be repaired or an old lift replaced, for example. The involvement of
the unit-holders is thought likely to result in effective management. The second is that
the CA can enforce obligations (positive and negative) against the current owners of the
units. These obligations arise from the commonhold community statement, which sets out
the obligations of both the CA and the unit owners. Positive obligations will bind pur-
chasers, although this is normally not allowed for freehold estates.
The term ‘commonhold’ might indicate that it is a new form of estate, different from
freehold and leasehold estates. Strictly speaking, this is not the case. Commonhold
involves the fee simple absolute in possession (whether of individual units or the com-
mon areas). Rather than being a new estate, commonhold is a system of management
for blocks of flats and other interdependent properties. Yet this fee simple is subject to
special rules inapplicable outside commonhold: thus there are some detailed limits on
what transactions can be entered into by the unit-holders and the CA. In substance,
commonhold may be regarded as a different form of landholding.
How popular is commonhold? It is unlikely to apply to existing developments, given
that unanimity is required for conversion to commonhold. Its use is likely to be limited
to new developments. Though some large developments are using commonhold, by
early 2008 the pitifully small number of 14 commonholds had been registered.
20
Conclusions
Conclusions
We have seen that legislation over the past century has made significant changes to
land law. However, much of land law remains based upon a mixture of common law and
equitable principles, though with large areas dominated by legislation. This chapter has
identified a number of areas in which legislation is particularly important. Many other
aspects of land law are affected by legislation, sometimes in very important respects.
These will be observed as we look at individual topics in later chapters.

multiple-choice practice questions, exam-style questions 3
21
4 Land and other property
n this chapter, we consider how and why land law is different from the law relating to
I other forms of property. We will concentrate on comparing land with chattels: objects
other than land. These include jewellery, cars, boxes of chocolates and vast numbers of
other items. There are also forms of intangible property (e.g. rights of action, such as a
right to sue for debt), but these will not be considered.
The range of proprietary interests recognised

The previous chapters reveal a wide range of interests in land. We will start with estates
and ownership. Estates do not apply to property other than land. Instead, we recognise
ownership: it is entirely accurate to say that Jane owns a box of chocolates. Can I give Kerry
a life interest in a painting (perhaps so that she can hang it in her house)? I cannot
create a life estate, but I can create a trust over the painting so that Kerry has an equitable
life interest. Another clear proposition is that two people can own property concurrently:
Betty and Carla could buy a pony together and jointly own it. It seems likely that the
equivalent of leases applies to chattels, though the question has not been finally settled.
The range of other interests in chattels is restricted. There are, for example, no true
equivalents of easements, restrictive covenants and estate contracts. The value and
utility of land frequently depend on rights over adjoining land: this explains easements
and restrictive covenants. The same cannot be said for chattels. Indeed, we prize the
ability to buy chattels free from obligations: it encourages commerce. Although the law
encourages the easy sale of land, the delays involved in checking the register and making
other enquiries are regarded as acceptable. If I am buying a necklace in a shop, I do not
expect to have to undertake inquiries as to whether somebody else has a claim to it.
One form of interest that is recognised in chattels is the mortgage. A right to sell a valuable
sculpture, for example, if a debt is not repaid would be a useful form of security.
However, there are detailed rules designed to protect purchasers from the borrower
(mortgagor) when the purchaser is unaware of the mortgage.
In summary, the narrower range of interests in chattels may be explained by the lesser
need for them and the greater significance accorded to very easy transfer of ownership
of chattels.
22
Registration
The significance of possession

We talk about estates being in possession, but possession of the land itself is less significant.
Possession of chattels is important in two contexts. The first is that a gift of chattels can
be made by handing them over. This is not possible for land. Second, a person who finds
a chattel gains ownership rights to it. Suppose Brian finds a ring on a street, dropped by
Alison a few hours earlier. He takes it home, intending to take it to the police. That night,
Charlie breaks into Brian’s house and takes the ring. Brian can reclaim the ring from Charlie:
his finding it confers rights on him that are superior to those of anybody else, except Alison.
Alison could claim the ring from either Brian or Charlie. Brian’s rights are especially import-
ant if the true owner, Alison, is never discovered. Gift and finding have led to much ana-
lysis as to the true meaning of possession. There are no direct equivalents for land. One
4
of the few contexts in which possession becomes relevant is that of adverse possession
(dealt with in Chapter 6).
Land and other property

Formalities
Statute requires most transactions with land to be in writing, with a formal deed being
required for most legal estates and interests. Save in exceptional cases, no such rules apply
for chattels. Contracts for interests in land also must be in writing, whereas contracts to
sell chattels can be oral. Indeed, ownership of chattels usually passes by virtue of a contract
of sale: the purchaser becomes owner when the contract says he does. These contracts
may be oral, though large commercial contracts will almost invariably be in writing.
Why do we have special rules for land? A mixture of reasons may be given. Many of
the rules go back centuries, to a time when land was by far the most important form
of asset. Today, the point can be made that for many individuals their home is their most
important asset. It is a good thing that they have to sign a document before entering
into transactions with it, as this reduces the risk of ill-considered commitments. Next,
possession of chattels is generally linked with ownership. This does not apply to land,
when the person occupying it may well have limited rights to it: a tenant under a short
lease or the holder of a life interest provide examples. Furthermore, many interests
are not at all apparent from inspecting the land. Both these last two factors show that
writing is essential so that we can establish with certainty what rights exist and what their
terms are.
Registration
Registration is an almost inevitable consequence of having a large number of interests in
land. A large proportion of houses will be bound by mortgages and restrictive covenants
and have the benefit of easements. There is a need for straightforward purchase pro-
cedures. In turn, this requires certainty as to what interests exist. Registration provides that
23
Land and the 1925 legislation
certainty. Further, registration plays an important role in recording and simplifying the
often complex documentation used in land transactions. No similar system operates for
chattels generally. It is unsurprising that there is no register of ownership of boxes of
chocolates!
Land as a home
The growth of owner-occupation over the past century means that there are particular
concerns as to how land law impacts on the family home. This is encountered in several
different areas. One area concerns disputes as to ownership of a family home vested in
the name of just one spouse or partner. Another area covers the rules applicable when
creditors and mortgagees seek to have the family home sold, in order to get loans repaid.
In addition, a large part of the modern legislation relating to leases has centred on pro-
tecting tenants’ homes. In all these areas, the law recognises that people living on land
deserve particular protection. A home is more significant than an investment.
Land and the 1925 legislation

In general terms, the legislation sought to abolish special rules for land where these were
unnecessary. Let us take one example. Before 1925, land would pass directly under a will
to the new owner. By contrast, all other assets would pass to those selected by the deceased
as executors (or personal representatives). These persons would pay any debts and
then pass the assets on as required by the will. In 1925, the special rules for land were
abolished. Today, all assets, including land, pass to the executors on death.
Much of the legislation applies only to land. In part, this is because land transactions
are complex and the legislation seeks to shorten them. It was common for transfers of
land to contain many complex standard terms. The 1925 legislation ensures that these
standard terms are implied. The result is that transfers are shorter and easier to read. This
applies only to land because it was only in land transfers that such terms were common.
Another point is that many provisions apply to specific interests, such as leases and
easements. These interests are interests in land, not chattels, so inevitably the provisions
apply only to land.
A rather different point is that land has several unique features. Quite apart from its
intrinsic value, the fact that it is immoveable sets it aside. This is very important as regards
mortgages. A feature of the mortgage is that the borrower (mortgagor) retains posses-
sion of the premises. This would be fraught with danger if there were a mortgage of, say,
a diamond ring. There is a danger that the owner of the ring might lose it or sell it. If
sold, there is every risk that the purchaser will never be traced. Some of these dangers
may be countered by insurance, but this does not provide a complete answer. In a
mortgage of land, it is trivially easy to know where the land is! Entry of the mortgage on
the register of title will rule out any unauthorised dealing with the land. There is also the
separate consideration that land has a relatively stable value: it provides good security for
24
Conclusions
a loan. These factors together mean that mortgages of land are especially common and,
in turn, attract detailed statutory regulation.
Conclusions
Some of the principles studied in this book are applicable to all forms of property.
However, many of the topics studied are, for good practical reasons, unique to land. This
is true of formalities and registration, as well as particular interests such as easements.
Even where principles covered in land law apply to other property, they often attract
special rules where land is involved. A good example is the trust. All forms of property
may be held under a trust, but we shall see later that land law makes special and exten-
sive use of the trust. Largely because trusts of land are very common, we have modern 4
legislation governing how they work: the Trusts of Land and Appointment of Trustees Act
Land and other property

1996. This deals, for example, with rights to occupy the land – scarcely an important
issue for other forms of trust assets. It is not surprising that land law requires treatment
as a distinct area of law.

25
5 Human rights
he role of human rights has dramatically increased since the Human Rights Act 1998
T (the 1998 Act). This enables issues based on the European Convention for the Protec-
tion of Human Rights and Fundamental Freedoms to be litigated in English courts. Although
cases had previously been heard by the European Court of Human Rights in Strasbourg,
the 1998 Act has led to far more interest in the topic. Land law is no exception.
In assessing human rights, one of the problems is that we are still unsure as to what
sorts of situation are likely to justify the application of Convention rights. Nevertheless,
there have been some important decisions in the past few years. These give useful guid-
ance and emphasise just how important human rights can be.
In this chapter, we consider the general principles of human rights as relevant to land
law. The application of these principles to specific areas of land law will be considered in
later chapters: an understanding of the relevant areas of law is essential before sense can
be made of most human rights litigation.
Convention rights
The European Convention is incorporated into the 1998 Act and forms the basis upon
which claims may be brought. Perhaps the most obviously important provision for land
law is Article 1 of the First Protocol. This provides: ‘Every natural or legal person is
entitled to the peaceful enjoyment of his possessions. No one shall be deprived of his
possessions except in the public interest . . .’ Clearly, the State cannot confiscate assets,
unless justified by the public interest. A clear example of public interest is where land is
compulsorily purchased for the site of a new hospital: the owner cannot complain of
deprivation of possessions. Even then, however, the payment of compensation will be
an important factor in assessing whether the public interest defence operates. It is usually
said that the interference with Convention rights must be proportionate to any legitimate
end being pursued. Any absence of compensation would be very relevant in this context.
It might be thought that, leaving aside compulsory purchase (and a few criminal law
rules, such as confiscation of drugs), confiscation of assets is no part of English law. That
would be wrong. Numerous examples can be found when property rights are terminated
by law. Three examples are given. Before recent reforms, a person who occupied land
26
Convention rights
without the permission of the owner (an ‘adverse possessor’) could defeat the true owner
after 12 years: the adverse possessor became the new holder of the fee simple. This is a
clear example of the law terminating ownership. As is seen in Chapter 6, the Strasbourg
court in JA Pye (Oxford) Ltd v United Kingdom1 was split on whether the adverse posses-
sion rules, as they applied before the reforms, were inconsistent with Convention rights.
A majority held that there was no breach of human rights.
A second example is provided by registration of title. Suppose Carla owns a plot of land.
Because of a mistake some years ago (of which he is unaware), Brian is registered as the first
proprietor of the plot. The Land Registration Act 2002 provides that Brian is the proprietor:
Carla is relegated to claiming compensation. The courts have said that this is acceptable,
a result more readily reached because of the availability of compensation for Carla. There
is a legitimate public interest in settling issues of land ownership: this is achieved by guar-
anteeing Brian’s title as proprietor. It is especially important that people should be able 5
to rely on the register when buying land: this ensures safe and inexpensive land transfer.
Human rights
The third example is based on the law relating to leases. We see in Chapter 14 that a
landlord can terminate (‘forfeit’) a lease if the tenant is in breach of its terms. Is the tenant
deprived of his possessions (the lease)? Two factors are likely to provide a defence to the
landlord. First, forfeiture operates by virtue of a term inserted by the parties. English law
simply enforces what the parties have agreed. The second point is that the courts almost
always have a discretion whether or not to allow forfeiture. If the tenant can remedy the
breach, forfeiture will not normally be allowed. Even though no compensation is payable on
forfeiture (despite the lease often being a valuable asset), there is a viable public interest
defence. Its basis is that landlords need an effective remedy against tenants who fail to
comply with obligations.
These three examples show that we need to think carefully about long-established
rules of land law. There are, of course, other examples. Returning to land registration, many
interests in land (such as contracts to buy land–estate contracts) have to be registered
before they can affect purchasers. When an unregistered right fails, is this a deprivation,
especially as no compensation is payable? Pye treated adverse possession as a control of use
rather than a deprivation. The same is likely to apply in the registration context: registra-
tion rules represent a necessary control over interests (determining the exact circumstances
in which purchasers are affected by proprietary claims) rather than outright deprivation.
Both control and deprivation are within Article 1. However, where no compensation is
paid, control is easier to justify than deprivation. Justifying the registration rules should
be relatively straightforward.
Two other Convention rights are particularly likely to impact on land law. The first is
Article 8: ‘Everybody has the right to respect for his private and family life, his home . . .’
This is subject to controls necessary for factors such as health, safety, security and the
rights and freedoms of others. Article 8 is particularly relevant for land law in so far as it
protects homes. It has, as will be seen later,2 been used to challenge rules whereby land
1
(2007) 46 EHRR 1083; see p. 44, below. It was litigated in Strasbourg because the facts predated the
1998 Act.
2
Page 165, below.
27
Enforcement of Convention rights
can be sold following bankruptcy. A number of other legal rules may be attacked for not
adequately reflecting the importance of homes. However, one may hope that most rules
adequately take into account the significance of people’s homes and balance this against
other objectives being pursued. Modern legislation frequently sets out to protect homes.
One example is that since 1970 we have had rules restricting sales of houses by mort-
gagees, where there is a reasonable prospect of arrears being paid.
The last Convention right to be mentioned is the Article 6 right to ‘a fair and public
hearing’ in the determination of rights and obligations. In the land law context, this is
most likely to apply if rights are exercised out of court. In some circumstances, leases
can be forfeited and lenders can sell mortgaged land without court proceedings. Might
these be open to attack? Court proceedings are nearly always required to effect a change
in possession, but this does not cover every case. For example, if a borrower fails to
pay mortgage instalments and then leaves the mortgaged property, then the lender
can sell it to recover the unpaid loan. A recent attempt to use human rights in similar
circumstances failed.3
Enforcement of Convention rights

If a statute is inconsistent with human rights then the courts are to interpret it so as to
make it consistent. If that is not possible, the courts cannot strike it down but must issue
a declaration of incompatibility.4 For other legal rules, the courts are obliged to amend
them so as to comply with human rights.5
A major debate has arisen as to whether the 1998 Act has a horizontal as well as vertical
effect. All agree that the State (more accurately ‘public authorities’, as defined by section 6)
is obliged to comply with human rights; this is what is meant by vertical effect. What is
less clear is whether Convention rights can be enforced by an individual against another
individual: horizontal effect.
Let us take the recent adverse possession case of Pye as an example. This was brought
against the Government in Strasbourg, where all issues are vertical (defendants are always
governments). However, in English courts one individual may be claiming against another
individual. For human rights to be effective in such litigation, it is necessary for human
rights to have horizontal effect. If there were no horizontal effect then (for example)
Convention rights could not prevent an individual from relying on adverse possession.
These issues simply do not arise at Strasbourg, where all disputes are vertical.
Three factors combine to indicate some level of horizontal effect. Most obviously, as
Pye shows, rights which individuals exercise against each other can place the Government
in breach of Convention rights. This is not a horizontal effect, but can mean that reform
of the law will follow. Next, a common effect of breach of Convention rights is that
3
Horsham Properties Group Ltd v Clark [2009] 1 WLR 1255, p. 291 below (the claim was based on Article 1
rather than Article 6).
4
1998 Act, ss 3 and 4.
5
1998 Act, s 6.
28
Human rights in the enforcement of property rights
legislation is interpreted so as to make it compliant with human rights (section 3). This
interpretation must apply whether the litigation happens to involve an individual or a
public authority. The legislation cannot have different meanings for different parties.
Accordingly, where legislation is involved, a Convention-compliant interpretation will be
applied as between individuals. This approach was adopted by the English courts in the
adverse possession context.
The third factor is the most radical and controversial. Courts are public bodies required
to comply with human rights. It is argued that when courts enforce rights of individuals,
they are bound to ensure that Convention rights are complied with. Otherwise, the court
is failing in its duties under the 1998 Act. It is unclear whether the argument will be
accepted, as few cases have even mentioned the problem. Though it was discussed in
X v Y 6 (not a land law case), Mummery LJ thought that it might never be resolved.
Most cases can be decided by applying more specific arguments, especially section 3 on 5
interpreting legislation. This is particularly relevant in land law, as so many of the
Human rights
principles are enshrined in legislation.
Human rights in the enforcement of property rights

A problem is illustrated by the facts of Kay v Lambeth LBC.7 The defendant authority gave
a licence (permission) to use its land. The licensee granted a lease to Kay. The licence later
terminated. The question was whether the defendant could evict Kay. As a matter of land
law, the lease was not binding on the defendant. Given that the licence had terminated,
there was nothing to stop the defendant from enforcing its property right and claiming
its land back. Kay argued that this was inconsistent with the Article 8 protection for his
home.
The question arose as to whether the exercise of the normal rights of an owner (them-
selves Convention compliant) can be limited by Convention rights. The defendant was
clearly a public authority, so there was no problem of horizontal effect. The issue was
particularly difficult because there had been a recent Strasbourg decision which many
(including the Court of Appeal) viewed as supporting Kay. Earlier House of Lords authority
supported the defendants.
Kay was decided by a panel of seven Law Lords. All considered that it would be excep-
tional for human rights to intrude into the operation of property rights and that the facts
came nowhere close to showing a breach of Article 8. However, there was disagreement
as to the circumstances in which Article 8 could be deployed. The majority (4:3) thought
that an application for possession should succeed unless one of two ‘gateways’ could be
established.
The first gateway is that the legal right being enforced is itself inconsistent with human
rights. This means that the legal right itself (in Kay, the right to reclaim the land) can be
challenged, but it cannot be argued that more (or any) attention should have been given
6
[2004] ICR 1634 at [44]–[46].
7
[2006] 2 AC 465.
29
Assessing human rights in land law
to the personal circumstances of the home occupier. Thus the relevant question in Kay
becomes: is it consistent with Convention rights for an owner of land to claim it from a
person with no rights binding the owner? The answer is clearly in favour of consistency,
because the enforcement of ownership rights is clearly adequate to outweigh the protec-
tion of homes. The second gateway is that the decision can be challenged on judicial
review grounds. This is further discussed below.
The majority saw the result as important in stopping spurious human rights arguments
from interfering with the everyday enforcement of rights to land. The response of the
minority was that human rights arguments would be credible only in ‘highly exceptional
circumstances’. When considering how often Article 8 could apply to the exercise of
rights, the difference is between ‘never’ (majority) and ‘hardly ever’ (minority).
Any clarity arising from Kay was soon removed by a decision of the European Court
of Human Rights8 which expressed a preference for the minority approach in Kay. The
question returned to the House of Lords a few months later in Doherty v Birmingham
City Council.9 It is unfortunate that the point was raised before a five-judge court, after
argument had been completed. This made it almost impossible to depart from the seven-
judge decision in Kay. Instead, the House of Lords made what is probably a minor adjust-
ment to the judicial review gateway. It was recognised this enables reasonableness to be
taken into account. The test, as expressed by Lord Scott, should be whether the decision
was ‘one which no reasonable person would consider justifiable’.
Subsequent decisions in the Court of Appeal have shown that this enables human
rights issues to be introduced as factors to be taken into account by the local authority.
However, it will be a rare case in which a local authority decision can be successfully
attacked. It remains to be seen whether this limited recognition of human rights prin-
ciples will be enough to satisfy the Strasbourg court.
What conclusions can be drawn from this confusing sequence of cases? It may be
said that they demonstrate a reluctance to allow human rights principles to interfere with
what is perceived to be an efficient system of management of claims to land. Of course,
it may be replied that questions of human rights should not be allowed to be swept aside
on such a pragmatic basis; some of the dicta in Doherty are sympathetic to that type
of argument. Another element is that a broad scope for Article 8 in the judicial review
gateway would impact only on public authorities.10 We saw above that the courts seem
keen to limit differences between the horizontal and vertical effect of human rights; this
is advanced by limiting the impact of Article 8.

The potential for human rights to intrude into land law disputes is immense. Whenever
looking at rules and principles (however basic and obvious), we have to bear in mind the
8
McCann v United Kingdom [2008] 2 FLR 899.
9
[2009] 1 AC 367.
10
Doherty at [69].
30
possibility of a human rights challenge. The discussion above has illustrated a wide range
of situations (in quite different areas of land law) in which human rights may feature.
What is more difficult to assess is in how many of these areas Convention rights will
be successfully deployed. Is reliance on human rights any more than a last-ditch argu-
ment in otherwise hopeless cases, used more for its nuisance value than for any real
chance of success? That would be to diminish its impact to an unjustified extent, but
the reality is that few challenges to land law principles have succeeded. Most cases that
have gained attention have subsequently been overruled. One point to bear in mind
is that many land law rules (including much legislation) replicate what parties normally
specify. When the parties are free to exclude these rules, it will be difficult to challenge
them on human rights grounds.11 It may be predicted that human rights will play an
increasingly important role, but that it is unlikely that large swathes of land law will have
to be rewritten as a result. 5
Human rights
11
Horsham Properties Group Ltd v Clark [2009] 1 WLR 1255 (p. 291 below): mortgagees’ power of sale.
31
ACQUIRING INTERESTS
Part 2 AND BINDING
PURCHASERS
7 Transfer and creation of interests

in land 50
8 Estoppel 71
10 Priorities 108
6 Adverse possession
and fixtures
Nature and importance

n Part 2, we look at the creation and transfer of interests in land. There are many rules
I which are specific to land and these frequently give rise to challenging questions. Most
interests will be created (or transferred) by somebody with an interest in land: derivative
acquisition. A simple example is where the holder of the fee simple creates a lease. How-
ever, interests sometimes arise without being created by anybody: original acquisition.
Two forms of original acquisition are considered in this chapter: adverse possession (when
ownership is obtained by possessing land for a period of years) and fixtures (property
attached to land becomes part of the land).
Adverse possession raises a number of difficult issues, but it has a much reduced applica-
tion following the Land Registration Act 2002 (LRA or 2002 Act). The justification of adverse
possession, especially in the light of human rights arguments, is considered as a ‘Critical
and controversial issue’. Fixtures will be seen to raise few difficult points of principle.
Main issues and rules: adverse possession

● Introduction
For centuries, English law has recognised that possessing land adversely to the owner
(i.e., without permission) gives rise to a claim to the land. We shall see that, odd as it may
seem, the adverse possessor is viewed as having a fee simple at an early stage. This means
that there are two fees simple for the same plot, one held by the original owner (the true
owner) and the other by the adverse possessor. Initially, the fee simple of the true owner
prevails and the adverse possessor can be evicted. However, until the 2002 Act the true
owner lost his title after 12 years. After 12 years the land really did belong to the adverse
possessor.
A simple example illustrates this. Richard owns a house and an adjoining paddock,
which he uses for a pony. When Richard is sent abroad by his employer, he leases the
house to Sally. The lease does not include the paddock, which is no longer used. Tamara
35
owns another house adjoining the paddock. Seeing that it hasn’t been used for a couple
of years, Tamara incorporates the paddock into her garden. She fences it so that the only
access is from her house and cultivates it as part of her garden. Fifteen years later, Richard
returns. When he attempts to reclaim the paddock, he will discover that Tamara now
owns it; his ownership has been extinguished and he has lost the paddock without
compensation.
Adverse possession has long been regarded with a degree of suspicion – it can be
viewed as a form of land theft, especially as the adverse possessor need not be in good
faith. The law was revolutionised by the 2002 Act. Adverse possession has been rendered
of very limited importance for the 90 per cent of titles that are registered. We shall see
that, under the 2002 Act, adverse possession operates only if there is a boundary dispute
between neighbours or the owner does not bother to assert his title when notified of a
claim. Many cases before the legislation involved local authorities that had failed to evict
trespassers. Their conduct was explicable because they own thousands of properties:
administrative inefficiency was the consequence of having overworked staff. Today, adverse
possession would fail in such cases, as it also would in Tamara’s claim.
We now consider two core issues: what counts as adverse possession and what the
effect of adverse possession is. The first issue is the same for both registered and un-
registered land. However, the old law on the effect of adverse possession has largely
disappeared in registered land: no longer are the true owner’s rights lost after 12 years’
adverse possession.1 The 2002 Act is so important that we will consider it first.
● Adverse possession under the Land Registration Act 2002

Schedule 6 establishes a three-stage process: application by the adverse possessor (who
we will call Sylvia), objection by the owner (who we will call Olivia) and further applica-
tion by Sylvia.
The flow chart illustrated in Figure 6.1 summarises the process described below.
Application by the adverse possessor

After ten years of adverse possession, Sylvia can apply to the land registry to be registered
as proprietor (paragraph 1). Ten years is, of course, less than the traditional period of
12 years.
It should be noted that the ten years must be the ten years immediately before the
application. It is common for disputes to arise when the owner ‘wakes up’ and retakes
possession. Should Olivia retake possession, Sylvia is allowed up to six months to make
an application.
The immediate effect of the paragraph 1 application is that the land registry notifies
Olivia. Unless Olivia responds, paragraphs 3 and 4 provide for Sylvia to be registered as
proprietor. This means that an owner who fails to express an interest in retaining the land
loses it. If Olivia has no use for the land, adverse possession is justified because it enables
the land to be used efficiently by Sylvia.
1
LRA, s 96.
36
Adverse possession and fixtures

Figure 6.1 Adverse possession under the LRA 2002
However, if Olivia has simply overlooked the adverse possession, then she can object
to Sylvia’s application. We move to the second stage.
Objections by the owner

In most cases, an objection by Olivia will block Sylvia’s application (paragraph 5).
However, paragraph 5 provides for three circumstances in which Olivia’s objection fails
and Sylvia will be registered as proprietor.
The first two are situations in which adverse possession is not strictly necessary. They
are included because the legislation sets up a convenient procedure for resolving disputes
and it is useful to employ that procedure. The two situations are (i) where Sylvia will
succeed because she has an independent right to register (perhaps under a contract to
buy the land) and (ii) if she can assert an estoppel. An example of the latter would be
if Olivia had encouraged Sylvia to build on the land on the supposition that she could
keep it.
Much more interesting is the third circumstance. It applies when Olivia and Sylvia
are neighbours. If Sylvia reasonably believed that the disputed land belonged to her,
then she can overcome Olivia’s objection and get herself registered. This is the only true
example of adverse possession operating under paragraph 5. It is clear that this has
limited application: the great majority of adverse possession claims under the previous
law would fail at the second stage.
Why does the 2002 Act allow adverse possession in the third circumstance? The rea-
son is that boundaries on the ground are frequently different from what appears in plans.
This may be because the plans were inaccurate to start with (common in new building
developments) or a previous owner established the physical boundary in the wrong
place. Especially when a purchaser has bought land on the reasonable assumption that
37
it includes the disputed area, it seems appropriate to recognise the position on the
ground as it has existed over a lengthy period.
Further application by the adverse possessor

Suppose that Olivia has objected to Sylvia’s application and Sylvia is unable to establish
any of the three circumstances for her to be registered. That is not the end of the matter:
Olivia must take steps to evict Sylvia. Unless Olivia has taken proceedings within two years,
paragraph 6 permits Sylvia to make a further application to the land registry. This time
Sylvia will automatically succeed and be registered as proprietor. The policy is to protect
only those owners who really want to recover their land. If Olivia takes proceedings
within the two-year limit, she can be sure of recovering her land. Otherwise, efficient land
use points to Sylvia’s being the best person to own and manage the land.
Overall, it can be concluded that adverse possession will apply only in situations in
which either the owner cannot be bothered to take action (despite notification by the land
registry) or boundaries are disputed. The latter, of course, requires Sylvia reasonably to
believe that the land is hers. Are there any circumstances in which Olivia could justifiably
feel aggrieved by a successful adverse possession claim? One example will be considered.
Adverse possession may succeed because a land registry notification has not reached
Olivia. This may happen if she has moved from the relevant property and has not
notified the land registry of a new address. If she never receives the notice, no objection
can be lodged and inevitably Sylvia will be registered as proprietor. Depriving Olivia of
ownership without compensation could be seen as draconian. She might be able to claim
rectification of the register under statutory powers under the registration scheme,2 but
there is no authority on this.
● When is there adverse possession?

Adverse possession, as described in this section, must be proved before a claim can be
brought for either registered or unregistered land. There is a mountain of authority,
though much of it is specific to the facts of the particular case. Indeed, most of the really
difficult questions have become obsolescent now that the effects of adverse possession
have been heavily restricted by the 2002 Act. This justifies a relatively short discussion of
the principles.
There are three essential ingredients in proving adverse possession. There must be acts
of possession, there must be an intention to possess and the possession must be adverse
(without consent).
Possession
Not every act of trespass counts as possession. There must be the sort of conduct that
indicates an ownership claim by the adverse possessor. Taking over a house and living
there would plainly suffices. Many cases involve farmland. This can pose more difficulties,
as it can be used for a range of activities. One useful test is whether the claimant has
2
See p. 120, below.
38
fenced the land. Fencing is not essential, but it is a strong indicator that the claimant is
asserting ownership by excluding everybody from the land.
The nature of the land is also important. Some land is barely suitable for any use, per-
haps because it floods frequently. In Red House Farms (Thorndon) Ltd v Catchpole,3 the
claimant had been shooting over an island in a river. Such conduct would not normally
suffice as adverse possession: more would be expected of somebody asserting owner-
ship. However, the island was of little or no use for agricultural purposes and adverse
possession succeeded – shooting was as much as could be expected.
Cases where people boldly go on to a stranger’s land and start using it as their own
are relatively few. More often, land isn’t being actively used by the owner and the adverse
possessor (often an adjoining landowner) begins to use it in minor ways. Over the years,
the use increases. The influential decision of Slade J in Powell v McFarlane4 provides a
good example. The claimant, aged 14, lived with grandparents who were farmers. Close 6
to them, the defendant owned a field which was poor agricultural land and unused apart

from some Christmas trees on it. The claimant began to cut and remove hay from the
field. After making limited repairs to the fencing, he began to graze the family cow Kashla
there. In later years, he made more extensive use of the land in connection with his
business as a tree surgeon, including erecting a noticeboard on it and storing wood and
vehicles on it from time to time. Slade J held that the original activities were insufficient:
they showed trespass rather than a claim to ownership. It was possible that the later
activities did constitute adverse possession, but they had not continued for the required
period of 12 years. The fact that the claimant was aged 14 at the start made it more
difficult to prove intention to possess at that time.
A final point is that any active use by the true owner is inconsistent with adverse pos-
session. On the other hand, it does not matter if the claimant uses part of the land and
the owner the rest: this is the typical scenario for boundary disputes.
Intention to possess
Intention to possess (sometimes encountered in its Latin form: animus possidendi ) is not
found in the legislation. However, the courts have always treated it as an ingredient
in determining whether there is sufficient possession, especially in circumstances where
(as in Powell ) the facts do not clearly show possession.
The requisite intention will be easily shown where the claimant believes they have
ownership. Land on a disputed boundary could provide an example – it might belong to
the neighbour despite being on the claimant’s side of a fence. More difficult are cases
such as Powell, where claimants know that the land does not belong to them. To require
the claimant to show an intention to own would mean that they would have to intend
to repel the true owner. Only the more outrageous cases of adverse possession would
pass that test!
The modern test is that the adverse possessor must intend to possess the land to the
exclusion of others: one reason why fencing the land is treated as so significant. Most
3
[1977] 2 EGLR 125.
4
(1977) 38 P&CR 452.
39
explicit is the Court of Appeal in Buckinghamshire CC v Moran,5 in which Slade LJ

required ‘an intention for the time being to possess the land to the exclusion of all other
persons, including the owner with the paper title’. It does not matter that the claimant
accepts that any future assertion of rights by the true owner cannot be resisted. In
Moran, the claimant had incorporated a vacant plot (being held by the local authority
for a possible future road) into his adjoining land. Access by the local authority was
originally though a gate in a fence, but the claimant used a lock and chain to prevent
entry. The adverse possession claim succeeded.
Adverse
Consent by the true owner prevents possession being adverse. Problems are most likely
to arise where consent has been given initially but it is claimed that it does not cover later
actions, especially where use of the land by the adverse possessor has changed over the
years.
This is illustrated by the leading recent authority on adverse possession: JA Pye
(Oxford) Ltd v Graham.6 Graham initially had a licence to cut hay and graze animals on
a number of fields. When the licence expired, Graham requested its renewal, but Pye
refused. Graham continued to use the land and, despite his further offers to continue the
licence being ignored, began to make full use of it as if the owner. Pye had no access to
the fields and made no use of them. The House of Lords held that the original licence
had terminated and that from that time Graham’s use was adverse.
The true owner can stop time running by giving the occupier permission to remain
there: this stops the possession from being adverse thereafter. It is particularly useful if
the true owner wants to prevent adverse possession, but without taking immediate steps
to evict the possessor.
Time also stops running if the possessor acknowledges in writing the rights of the true
owner. This is a statutory rule, but even an unwritten acknowledgement might make it
difficult to show the necessary intention for adverse possession.
In many of the difficult cases (including Powell, Moran and Pye), the owner had no
present use for the land. This is most likely for unbuilt land with no significant farming
value. It is relatively unlikely for buildings, unless they are awaiting demolition or redevelop-
ment. Let us see how this operates. Suppose that Sylvia takes possession of Olivia’s
land, in circumstances in which Olivia has no present use for the land. Olivia makes no
objection: Sylvia’s cultivating the land or using it for storing things is likely to be seen as
innocuous conduct that it is not worth objecting to. In these circumstances, Olivia may
well be taken aback to be told that she should have evicted Sylvia and that her failure to
act means that she has lost the land.
These arguments have at times impressed the courts. At one stage, it was thought that
Olivia impliedly consents to Sylvia’s possession, such that it is not adverse. However, this
rather artificial idea was rejected by the Limitation Act 19807 and need not be further
5
[1990] Ch 623.
6
[2003] 1 AC 419.
7
Schedule 1, para 8(4).
40
considered. More generally, there were a few indications that adverse possession simply
could not apply if Sylvia’s acts were consistent with the future intended use by the owner.
The decisions in Powell, Moran and (in particular) Pye reject any special rule for
true owners with no present use for the land. The tests for possession and intention to
possess must be applied free from any artificial rules. If one can say that Sylvia is in pos-
session and intends to possess (in the sense described above) then adverse possession
operates. Of course, if Sylvia intends to use the land on a purely temporary basis, it will
be difficult for her to prove the necessary intention.
These cases simplify the law and may be welcomed for doing so. However, they also
considerably widen the circumstances in which adverse possession can be proved. Is that
good policy? We have seen that the 2002 Act set out to narrow the effect of adverse pos-
session: a response to the criticism that adverse possession operates in an unreasonably
wide manner. The claimants in each of these three cases would fail today, if title were 6
registered. The real continuing significance of the cases is that they make it relatively easy

to gain title by adverse possession in unregistered land.
The effects of adverse possession

We have already seen many of the effects of adverse possession when we investigated
the provisions for registered land in the 2002 Act. However, there are additional points
to consider.
Before adverse possession is completed

Suppose Sylvia is in adverse possession of Olivia’s land. After five years, Timothy dis-
possesses Sylvia, so that he is now the adverse possessor. Assuming that Olivia is still
taking no interest in the land, what rights does Sylvia have against Timothy?
The law treats Sylvia as having a fee simple from the beginning, though it is inferior
to Olivia’s fee simple. It might be thought odd that two people have a fee simple in the
same plot, but it illustrates the relativity of title accepted by English property law. It
means that Sylvia can evict Timothy, whose claim is clearly inferior to hers (until he has
been there for the full period for adverse possession).
When considering Olivia’s position, can we add together the periods of occupation of
Sylvia (there for five years) and Timothy so that there is effective adverse possession
against her once Timothy has been there for seven more years (five years under the 2002
Act)? If Sylvia had transferred her rights to Timothy, then the two periods could be added
together. However, in our example Timothy took possession away from Sylvia. The
unregistered land rule was that the two periods could be added together, but the 2002
Act requires Timothy to start from the beginning. The other rules mentioned in this
section are unaffected by the 2002 Act.
After adverse possession is completed

For unregistered land, the title of the original owner is extinguished after 12 years. The
adverse possessor has a new title (Sylvia’s fee simple as described above) and is not
treated as the holder of the former owner’s title. In registered land, we apply the rules in
the 2002 Act (the three-stage process). If the claim succeeds, the adverse possessor is
simply registered as proprietor of the land.
41
Whether title is registered or not, the adverse possessor will be bound by all pro-
prietary interests (such as easements) in the land. This applies whether they are legal or
equitable and whether or not they are entered on the register.
Adverse possession operating against tenants

Suppose Norman has leased land to Olivia for 15 years. A year into the lease, Olivia is
dispossessed by Sylvia. How does adverse possession operate after Sylvia has been there
for 12 years? One initial point is that Norman is unaffected: adverse possession operates
only against those whose interests are in possession. Time runs against future interests
(including landlords) only when they are in possession. It follows that Norman can
recover the land from Sylvia after the 15-year lease has ended.
Taking unregistered land first, Sylvia gets a new title: she does not obtain Olivia’s lease.
If she had obtained the lease, she would be treated as a tenant of Norman and therefore
liable on the covenants in the lease. These results cannot apply to Sylvia because she
has a new title; she cannot, for example, be liable for rent. This was established in the
seminal decision in Tichborne v Weir.8 Though the result appears inconvenient, it confers
limited benefit upon Sylvia. Unless she complies with the covenants, Norman can termin-
ate the lease by forfeiting it.9
Turning to registered leases, much more common today, the outcome is quite differ-
ent. Sylvia will be registered as proprietor of the lease (rather than a fee simple) and will
be able to sue and be sued on the covenants. This looks by far the simpler and most
appropriate outcome.
Another problem arises after Sylvia has gained title by adverse possession. Can
Olivia surrender the lease to Norman, so as to bring it to an end? If she could do so, then
Norman could rely on his fee simple (now conferring immediate rights to the land)
to recover the land from Sylvia. The main problem is whether Olivia has a lease to
surrender after adverse possession is complete. We will start with the position for
unregistered land.
The House of Lords in St Marylebone Property Co Ltd v Fairweather10 grappled with
the problem. To solve it, the status of the lease after the completion of adverse posses-
sion had to be ascertained. It could not be said to be held by Sylvia, as Tichborne estab-
lishes that the adverse possessor has a new and different title. It might seem attractive to
treat the lease as destroyed by adverse possession. Unfortunately, that wouldn’t work to
Sylvia’s advantage: it would enable Norman to take possession immediately. The only
remaining possibility is for the lease to be extinguished as regards Sylvia (the normal
effect of adverse possession), but to survive as regards Norman. That was the approach
adopted by the House of Lords. They therefore concluded that Olivia could surrender the
lease to Norman, whereupon Norman could recover the land. The result is widely viewed
as odd, as Sylvia’s rights are taken away by the agreement between Olivia and Norman.
8
(1892) 67 LT 735.
9
Forfeiture of leases is considered in Chapter 14.
10
[1963] AC 510 (Lord Morris dissented).
42
Critical and controversial issues: adverse possession
In registered land, we have seen that the lease is vested in Sylvia if adverse possession
is successful. As it is vested in Sylvia, only she can surrender the lease: the Fairweather
analysis ceases to operate.

● Justifications for adverse possession
Adverse possession has the drastic effect of taking away the rights of the true owner after
12 years. How can this be justified? Even though adverse possession has been rendered
largely toothless for registered titles, this question remains important for unregistered
land. A number of points can be made: 6
(i) The law frequently bars claims that have not been pursued within a limited period:

six years for breach of contract, for example. This avoids stale claims, which can be
difficult to assert and defend. These arguments are not compelling. As ownership is
proved from documents (or the register), the true owner’s rights are easily proved:
there is no danger from stale claims. We could justify stopping a claim for trespass
against the adverse possessor many years ago: that claim would require old acts of
trespass to be proved. However, it does not follow that ownership should be taken
away.
(ii) It is said to be wrong for owners to sleep on their rights: if they want to keep them,
they should assert them without allowing decades to pass. This point seems to carry
little weight by itself, though it may be an aspect of the previous and following
points. Furthermore, adverse possession sometimes arises without any fault on the
part of the owner, as when (exceptionally) it is not obvious to the owner.
(iii) The effect on the adverse possessor looks a more promising justification. Individuals
are prone to treat the position on the ground as representing legal rights. Suppose
Frances has occupied the land for 15 years. She is likely to treat the land as belong-
ing to her. The law frequently attempts to bring strict legal rights into line with
practical reality. Frances may have spent money on the land and feel unfairly treated
if after decades the owner can return and reclaim the land. However, we should
remember that estoppel may protect Frances if, for example, the true owner’s con-
duct has led Frances to believe that the land does belong to her. There is then no
need to rely on adverse possession.
A related argument is that adverse possession encourages efficient land use. If the
owner has no apparent use for the land, it may be preferable that somebody else uses
it effectively. Suppose Eric is a farmer. He makes no use of a field which is too wet for
his cattle to graze. Frances, a neighbour, starts to make use of the field. Initially, she
does minor acts such as collecting fallen branches and grazing a goat when the land
is dry. Over several years, she incorporates the field into her farm. Fifteen years later,
Frances wants to improve the drainage of the field so that it can be put to good use.
She contacts Eric. Although he is unwilling to come to any agreement with Frances,
he takes no steps to recover the land. It would be madness for Frances to spend
43
money on the field if Eric could claim it back. Yet this means that the land is not being
used to its full potential: without Frances’s wrongful (if relatively innocuous) actions,
it wouldn’t be used at all.
(iv) Most convincing is the argument that ownership of land frequently is less than
certain. Adverse possession plays an important role in removing that uncertainty,
thereby simplifying purchase of land. There are commonly technical defects in owner-
ship. This may be because relevant deeds have been lost or improperly signed and
witnessed; it is also common for the boundaries to be imprecisely or inaccurately
described. Because old claims are defeated by adverse possession, we can be confident
that no claims to ownership can survive 12 years’ possession by the seller. When land
is sold, the seller has to provide documents going back just 15 years in order to prove
ownership.11 Suppose there is a defect in a deed 30 years ago, with the result that
Xavier, rather than the seller, was the owner. Xavier’s claim will be defeated by virtue
of adverse possession. Without adverse possession, purchasers would have to inspect
documents much older than 15 years, just in case such a defect were to exist.
This last point constitutes a powerful argument, but its strength today is minimal for
registered land. The register guarantees ownership: there is no uncertainty which needs
to be cured by adverse possession and no deeds which have to be investigated. However,
the argument remains strong for unregistered land.
In the 1990s, the Law Commission investigated adverse possession as part of their
reforms of registered land. They concluded12 that these justifications for adverse posses-
sion were insufficient to justify keeping it (unchanged) for registered land. In particular,
the effects of adverse possession can be viewed as disproportionate in that it deprives the
owner of ownership without any compensation. Their proposals led, of course, to the
2002 Act.
● The human rights challenge

The same factors as impressed the Law Commission led to challenges to adverse posses-
sion on human rights grounds. The relatively narrow scope of this challenge should be
noted: it applies only to registered land and then only to adverse possession before the
2002 Act. The following observations apply only in that narrow context.
First, Strauss QC held in Beaulane Properties Ltd v Palmer13 that adverse possession
was inconsistent with Article 1 of the First Protocol of the European Convention on Human
Rights (deprivation of possessions). More significant is the decision of the European Court
of Human Rights in JA Pye (Oxford) Ltd v United Kingdom.14 Pye followed on from the
decision in the English courts described earlier in this chapter:15 it was heard in Strasbourg
because the facts predated the human rights legislation. Though a bare majority (a four
11
More fully described at p. 109, below.
12
Law Com No 271, paras 14.1–4; see also Law Com No 254, paras 10.5–19.
13
[2006] Ch 79.
14
(2007) 46 EHRR 1083, reversing (2005) 43 EHRR 43.
15
JA Pye (Oxford) Ltd v Graham [2003] 1 AC 419; see p. 40, above.
44
Main issues and rules: fixtures
to three majority) initially reached the same conclusion as Beaulane, this was soon
reversed by the Grand Chamber (ten to seven majority).
The outcome was that the challenge to adverse possession failed. The judges accepted
that Article 1 was engaged. However, adverse possession was treated as a control of use,
rather than a deprivation; this is because it sets out to regulate land ownership. Though
both control and deprivation are caught by Article 1, control is more readily shown to be
consistent with human rights. It is a fair observation that the differences between the
judges were largely based on the extent of the margin of appreciation allowed to legis-
latures to settle national legal structures. All the judges thought the 2002 reforms well
justified, but the majority concluded that this was not enough to condemn the law prior
to 2002. It may be worth stressing that there was never any prospect of challenging
adverse possession as it operates in unregistered land or after 2002.
6
● Is adverse possession justified today?

One obvious issue is whether we are considering registered or unregistered land. Given
the prevalence of registered land today, we will concentrate on that area. As has been
seen, adverse possession will operate only if the owner fails to object or the true owner
and adverse possessor are neighbours. Even where the parties are neighbours, the
adverse possessor must reasonably believe that the land is theirs.
This establishes a reasonable balance between the rights of the owner and the need
to encourage efficient land use and to recognise boundaries on the ground. It is unfor-
tunate that what counts as adverse possession is so complex: all the old rules still apply
to registered land. However, the simplifications confirmed by the House of Lords in Pye
may diminish this problem. The broader scope for adverse possession following Pye may
be criticised as leading to a disproportionate response (because of its effect on the
owner). However, this matters little now that the 2002 Act minimises the circumstances
in which adverse possession operates.
For unregistered land, adverse possession can be justified as helping to establish
ownership. The impact of Pye in the House of Lords may render its application un-
reasonably wide, but this is of limited importance given the small (and reducing) numbers
of unregistered titles.

The law of fixtures deals with the effect of fixing moveable objects to land. Let us con-
sider a very simple and typical sort of example. Frank, the owner of a house, installs a
new and expensive bath in his bathroom. The bath is very clearly a fixture (applying
principles considered below) and becomes part of the land. If he contracts to sell the
house to Geraldine, then Geraldine is entitled to the bath. Frank cannot (in the gap
between the contract and the later transfer to her) remove the bath and substitute a
cheaper one. A contrasting example is wiring in an electric cooker. The degree of con-
nection of electrical items such as cookers is not such as to make them fixtures. Even after
45
Frank contracts to sell the land, the cooker can be removed and there is no need for
him to provide any substitute. If Geraldine wants to acquire the cooker, she will need to
specify this in the contract.
We will consider a number of issues relating to fixtures. The first concerns the circum-
stances in which status as a fixture is important (sale of the land has just been seen to be
one example). Next is the question of when an object is a fixture – how and why do we
distinguish between baths and cookers? Finally, we ask when fixtures can be removed.
This is most commonly an issue when tenants have installed fixtures. Can they be removed
when the lease ends?
● The significance of fixtures

We shall consider three situations. The first two involve fixtures being installed by the
owner of the land; the third involves installation by non-owners, tenants for example.
Fixtures installed by the owner of the land who owns the fixtures
The immediate effect of installing the fixture is small: the owner can remove it the fol-
lowing day! It becomes important when somebody else acquires an interest in the land,
as in the above examples when Geraldine buys from Frank. Similar reasoning applies
if Frank leases the land to Harry: the fixture becomes part of the land to which Harry is
entitled. Frank cannot remove it. Although the same applies to mortgages, it is unrealistic
to say that fixtures can never be removed. Otherwise, householders could not replace
a cracked bath without consulting their building society! There is an implied permission
for the owner (mortgagor) to remove fixtures in the normal course of the upkeep and
improvement of houses.
Fixtures installed by the owner of the land who does not own the fixtures
Again, the fixture is part of the house and is owned by the owner of the land. The
original fixture owner has lost it. That is the land law answer, though there may well be
tort liability for wrongfully using the property of another.
Most cases have concerned objects hired to the owner of the land, usually in a busi-
ness setting. The rules whereby objects become fixtures are frequently inconsistent with
the wishes of the fixture owner. In Re Samuel Allen & Sons Ltd,16 machinery was acquired
under a hire purchase agreement.17 It was stipulated that the seller of the machinery had
a right to remove it. This right to remove was effective to bind a subsequent mortgagee
of the land (the right to remove is a proprietary interest binding successors in title). Though
a mortgagee would normally acquire the machinery as a fixture, this was effectively
defeated by the right to remove. The case illustrates how some fixture rules can be
circumvented by appropriate terms in the contract.
16
[1907] 1 Ch 575.
17
Hire purchase is used for purchase on credit. Ownership of the object passes at a later stage when the
purchase money has been paid. In the meantime, the buyer is a hirer of the object.
46
Fixtures installed by non-owners

Nearly all the cases have involved non-owners who are tenants under leases or (in the
past) holders of life interests. The theoretical position is that the fixture belongs to the
owner of the land. To make a gift of the fixture to the owner rarely meets the expect-
ations of the parties. It also has the undesirable effect of discouraging improvement of the
land. In response to these concerns, the law permits certain types of fixture to be removed
(considered below).
● When is there a fixture?

Unsurprisingly, fixing an object to the land provides the prima facie answer, the only issue
being the degree of fixing required. In his classic analysis of the area in Holland v
Hodgson,18 Blackburn J starts by stressing the role of fixing the object. However, inten- 6
tion is also crucial. He provides these instructive examples:

(1) A dry stone wall. With such walls, stones are placed on top of each other, without
any fixing or cement. The nature of a wall, nevertheless, is such that it is intended to
be permanent. This is a fixture, despite the stones not being connected to the land
save by gravity;
(2) An anchor embedded in the underwater soil to hold a ship steady. It is clear that the
fixing is temporary, designed to benefit the ship and is readily undone. Despite the
physical fixing, this is not a fixture and the shipowner does not lose ownership of
the anchor.
A question that has given rise to constant difficulty is as to when intention will overcome
a small amount of fixing. In Holland itself, machinery firmly nailed to a factory floor was
held to constitute a fixture. The contrary conclusion is reached for carpets tacked to a
floor. Although the situations look similar, carpets can very easily be removed. The test
is sometimes said to be whether the fixing is designed to make the object part of the
structure or to allow the object to be enjoyed. This might be useful for some decorative
objects, but it provides little help on the facts of Holland.
The nature of the relevant intention was considered in Melluish v BMI (No 3) Ltd.19 The
House of Lords established that it is irrelevant whether or not an object was intended to
be a fixture: the law determines what is a fixture. Intention is relevant only in so far as it
shows the purpose of fixing. Take the carpet example. Carpets are fixed to the floor to
stop them from slipping, not for any purpose related to the house.
Two factors may be of use in deciding some cases. It can happen that a loosely fixed
object may be part of something else which is clearly a fixture. A simple example is pro-
vided by a toilet. The lid to the cistern can often be lifted off: it rests there by its weight
alone. Yet it is obvious that it forms part of the toilet and nobody doubts that the toilet
18
(1872) LR 7 CP 328 at p. 335 (Exchequer Chamber). For the earlier law, see Luther (2004) 24 OxJLS
597.
19
[1996] AC 454 at p. 473.
47
is a fixture. The second factor is whether any significant damage will be caused by removing
the object. The courts are quick to conclude that there is a fixture if such damage is likely.
Among normal household objects, baths, cookers and carpets have been mentioned.
Botham v TSB Bank plc 20 provides useful guidance as to how fixtures principles apply to
many household objects. As well as baths, fitted kitchen units were treated as fixtures.
These are objects that one expects to be part of houses, as well as being firmly fixed to
the house. However, items such as cookers, refrigerators and washing machines (even if
in fitted units) are not fixtures. They can readily be removed without significant damage
and are not generally viewed as part of the house. Likewise, carpets, curtains and most
light fittings were also held not to be fixtures.
So far we have considered what may be described as ‘lightly fixed’ objects. When,
apart from dry stone walls, will objects be fixtures without being physically fixed to the
land? There are few examples, though an interesting one is a house which rests on piles
or pillars (a common building method in some parts of the world). More controversially,
D’Eyncourt v Gregory 21 held that unfixed objects such as carved figures and vases were
part of the architectural design of a house and therefore fixtures. The theory looks sound,
but the same result has very rarely been reached in later cases. The courts are reluctant
to find fixtures without some degree of fixing.
● Rights to remove fixtures

This section considers rights of tenants and life interest holders to remove fixtures,
ignoring any express terms in the lease or settlement. Let us take two examples, in each
of which there is a fixture. The first is a life interest holder who fixes tapestries to walls.
The second is a shopkeeper tenant who fixes counters and display cabinets for his stock.
In both cases, it would seem unduly generous to the owner of the land to allow him
to make a windfall profit at the expense of the life interest holder or tenant. Equally
seriously, occupiers would be discouraged from improving the land.
The courts have evolved rules whereby trade or ornamental fixtures can be removed,
applying to both examples just given. Trade fixtures are those fixed in the course of
carrying out a trade and would cover the shopkeeper example. Tapestries would be
ornamental fixtures. Relatively minor damage is not a problem, so long as it is made good.
However, it should be noted that not all fixtures fall within the trade and ornamental
categories. Suppose a tenant replaces the main window of a shop. This is an integral part
of the premises and cannot be removed; it is called a ‘landlord’s fixture’.
A final point to remember is that the tenant can run two arguments. The first is that
there is no fixture in the first place. If this succeeds, then the tenant can remove the
object. Some earlier cases showed reluctance to find an intention to fix in the leasehold
setting, but that probably does not survive the Melluish analysis of intention as discussed
above. A tenant who fails in the first argument can fall back on the second: the right to
remove trade or ornamental fixtures.
20
(1996) 73 P&CR D1.
21
(1866) LR 3 Eq 382.
48
● Assessing the law on fixtures

Every system of law has to deal with objects affixed to land. It is inconceivable that
a house built on land could be viewed as a pile of bricks, separately owned and being
capable of being reclaimed separately from the land. The more difficult questions are
whether the courts employ the most appropriate tests for what counts as a fixture and
whether the consequences are appropriate.
On the first point, the examples given in Holland demonstrate that the physical act of
fixing cannot be determinative in all cases. Nevertheless, it has also been seen that the
intention test is difficult to apply. To aid certainty, it seems preferable to concentrate
on the level of fixing, allowing intention to come into play when there is a low level of
fixing, easily undone.
So far as removal is concerned, the law seems to allow reasonable rights of removal by 6
tenants and holders of life interests. These are persons who have most to lose from the
law of fixtures. However, it has been observed that some objects (windows, central heat-

ing, lifts) cannot be removed. That seems reasonable on account of the damage involved,
but it means that no compensation is payable. That outcome might be regarded as rather
harsh, though it may be a comment on the law relating to leases as much as on the law
relating to fixtures.

C AS E
Use Case Navigator to read in full some of the key cases referenced
in this chapter:
Pye v Graham [2002] UKHL 30 A
R
N
V I G AT O
POWERED BY
49
7 Transfer and creation of

interests in land

● The importance of formalities
his chapter deals with interests created by the owner of the land: derivative acquisi-
T tion. The most important question relates to the formalities required by statute
before a disposition can be effective. It will be seen that writing is generally essential
and that a special form of document – a deed – is required before most legal rights can
be created. Formalities are required in order to guard against the casual (and possibly
unintended) creation of interests, as well as to prevent the false assertion that an interest
has been created. Nevertheless, formalities requirements can themselves be abused – the
owner may deny an interest that he clearly intended to create.
Much of the interest in formality rules lies in how strictly they are enforced. Methods of
avoiding the effects of formality rules are central to the following chapters on estoppel
and the family home. Estoppel is the principle whereby a remedy is given to persons
who have been led to assume that an interest exists and have, on that basis, acted to
their detriment.
Many interests in land have to be registered before they can bind purchasers. This
is considered in Chapter 10, but one aspect of registration will be considered in this
chapter. Within a few years, the present formality rules will be replaced by the need
to register electronically: without registration, nothing will be created. These electronic
registration principles will have a huge impact on conventional formality ideas; they are
considered in this chapter as a ‘Critical and controversial issue’.
This chapter also considers the creation of trusts. Express trusts have to be in writing.
Of particular interest to us will be two types of trust created by the courts: resulting and
constructive trusts. Constructive trusts are imposed to avoid unconscionable (unfair) con-
duct by the owner. Resulting trusts have a more specific application. If a person transfers
ownership without intending a gift, then the courts will say that the transferee holds on
a resulting trust for the transferor.
A significant factor is that resulting and constructive trusts are effective without writ-
ing. Accordingly, these trusts can be employed both to assert an obligation and to avoid
any formality problems. Their main rules are considered in this chapter. Perhaps their
50
Main issues and rules
greatest importance for land lawyers lies in their application to the purchase of a family
home, when the house is transferred to just one of a couple. A trust enables the other
partner to obtain an interest in the home in certain circumstances. This large topic is
separately dealt with in Chapter 9.
The issues in this chapter are of vital importance to everybody dealing with land. The
rules are designed to clarify dealings with land and to avoid important obligations being
entered into unwittingly. The reasons for formality obligations are further considered
within the section on ‘Critical and controversial issues’. It is inevitable that if formality
requirements are overlooked then transactions will fail. It is a common problem that
individuals are unfamiliar with formality and registration requirements; their transactions
may be ineffective as a result. It is important for students and lawyers to remember the
impact of formality rules whenever they advise on the effects of what people have done,
whatever area of land law (leases or easements, for example) is involved. 7
It should be added that we are concentrating on lifetime dispositions. On death, pro-
Transfer and creation of interests in land

perty passes by will. A will must be signed and also witnessed by two persons. As these
rules are not specific to land, they will not be studied further.

● Transfers of land
Nearly all sales of land take effect in two legal stages: a contract for the sale of land and
the actual transfer or conveyance of land. One reason for this is that it takes time for
the purchaser to make the necessary checks to ensure that there are no legal problems.
The contract provides an assurance for both parties that the sale will go through and
clarifies the obligations imposed on each party. If the contract is to bind purchasers, it
must be registered (see Chapter 10).
The contract is not entered into as soon as a price is agreed. At the pre-contract
stage, neither party can be sure that the sale will go through. This causes great problems
if the seller pulls out in order to accept a higher offer from somebody else (gazzumping
– common when house prices are rising) or the buyer pulls out in order to buy another
house.
It is very unwise for a buyer to enter a contract until checks have been undertaken to
ensure that the property has no problems. For example, it would be disastrous if a local
authority had plans to demolish it in order to construct a new road. It has long been
common to make all correspondence ‘subject to contract’. This is effective to ensure that
there is no contract. Making enquiries and dealing with any problems is likely to take at
least a month and can mean that the contract is not ready to be entered into until close
to the transfer.
Commonly there is a two- to three-month delay between a price being agreed and
the final transfer (the stage often described as completion). This gap provides time for
sellers to obtain alternative housing and buyers to find the necessary loan finance and
to sell their existing homes. Nevertheless, the process is widely viewed as unnecessarily
51
protracted. Attempts are being made to shorten the time period, mainly by ensuring that
the seller provides all the essential information before a price is agreed.
Contracts for the sale of land

Section 2 of the Law of Property (Miscellaneous Provisions) Act 1989 (the 1989 Act)
requires contracts for the sale of land to be in writing, signed by both parties. This applies
to all contracts to transfer or create legal interests, including contracts to transfer (assign)
or create leases. It is different from previous legislation, so pre-1989 cases have to be
viewed with some suspicion.
How does the 1989 Act apply to the typical house purchase? It is common for con-
tracts to be drawn up in duplicate agreements: each contains detailed standard terms
(two A4 pages of very small print) covering the sorts of points that can go wrong in a
purchase transaction. Each party signs one of the duplicate agreements and gives it to
the other: this is called exchange of contracts. The 1989 Act makes it clear that this pro-
cedure is as effective as if both parties signed a single document. However, the Court of
Appeal in Commission for the New Towns v Cooper (Great Britain) Ltd 1 held that it does
not suffice simply to have a contract by correspondence. Suppose Andy writes to Beth,
offering to buy her house for £175,000. Beth replies, accepting this offer. Although they
have both signed documents, the 1989 Act is not satisfied: they have neither signed a
single contract nor exchanged contracts containing all the terms. The law takes this strict
approach because we want parties to be well aware of what they are doing before they
bind themselves to buy and sell land: this is more likely if the specified procedures are
followed.
We will now consider in more detail what contracts are caught by the 1989 Act
and what the writing must include. We also need to investigate the effect of failure to
comply with the Act.
What agreements are caught?

It has been observed that all contracts for the sale or creation of legal interests are
caught. Short leases provide an exception. We will see later in this chapter that most
leases not exceeding three years require no formalities. The 1989 Act provides that con-
tracts for such leases similarly do not require writing. However, assigning such a lease
does require writing.
Clarification has been provided that options require writing. Options are rights to buy
(or, less commonly, sell) land. The exercise of the option gives rise to full contractual
duties to buy and sell the land. The 1989 Act does not apply to the exercise of the option:
that is a unilateral act by the buyer. It is only the initial creation of the option that has to
be signed by both seller and buyer. More difficulty is posed by agency contracts. Suppose
that Andrew agrees with Brian that he will sell land to whomever Brian introduces. This
will not be caught; instead, the 1989 Act will apply to the future contract between the
introduced person and Andrew. On the other hand, it appears that a contract between
1
[1995] Ch 259 at pp. 283–9 and 292–5.
52
Andrew and Brian to sell to Charlotte will be caught. This is because Charlotte’s right to
a conveyance derives directly from the Andrew–Brian contract.
Boundary agreements have also received attention. Suppose that the boundary
between the gardens of two neighbours is unclear. If they agree that it should be in a
certain place, this does not require writing. They are not consciously transferring land to
each other but working out where the boundary line should fall. This seems a practical
and acceptable solution to an everyday sort of problem.
What must the writing include?

The simple answer is that all terms must be included; otherwise the contract (not merely
the omitted term) will be ineffective. This can cause substantial difficulty if, for example,
the parties fail to tell their lawyers that they have agreed that the sale price includes the
curtains. There is then every probability that the agreement produced by the lawyers will 7
omit the curtains term and that the whole agreement may be void.
However, there are ways of getting around this sort of problem. The Law Commission

thought that it might be possible to rectify the contract to include the missing term.2 This
is an application of normal contract principles which allow for rectification to correct
mistakes. It might apply to the curtains example, though not if the parties deliberately
keep the term out of the written contract.
Another possibility is that there may be two separate contracts. There are two types
of case. The first is illustrated by the following example. Suppose Malcolm agrees to sell
his house to Nicola for £250,000. They also agree that Nicola will buy the carpets for
£500. In this example the carpet contract can be seen as a separate contract: there is one
contract for selling the house and another for selling the carpets. So long as neither is
conditional on the other, only the contract relating to the house will require writing. The
earlier example about curtains cannot be viewed this way, as they were to be included
within the sale price.
So, how separate must the contract be? To answer this we enter the realm of
collateral contracts, which the Law Commission thought to be separate. The collateral
contract is best explained by an example. Olivia orally agrees to sell her house to Pia,
whose survey reveals rotten wood in the back door. Pia tells Olivia that she will not proceed
with the purchase unless the door is replaced. Olivia agrees, but none of this finds its way
into a later written contract to sell the house. In this example we may say that there is a
separate collateral contract: Pia agrees to enter a contract to buy the house if Olivia
undertakes to replace the door. This is a case where the collateral contract certainly refers
to the contract of sale, but can still be seen as separate. On that basis, there is a valid
written contract to sell the house and a valid oral contract for the door to be replaced.
It would be wrong to think that every omitted term can be treated as part of a collat-
eral contract: this would be inconsistent with the statutory writing requirement. On the
other hand, few would want to strike down contracts in circumstances as in the Olivia
and Pia example. It is probably necessary to establish something along the lines of ‘I will
buy (or sell) if you agree . . .’. Simply promising something extra in order to clinch a deal
2
Law Com No 164, para 5.6 (this report led to the 1989 Act).
53
(such as the curtains in the earlier example) is unlikely to suffice, as this is part of the
eventual agreement of sale.
Failure to comply with the 1989 Act

Without the necessary writing there is no contract. The pre-1989 law took a more relaxed
approach in allowing enforcement by a person who had undertaken acts of part perform-
ance to the knowledge of the other. Although part performance cannot operate today,
there is scope for slightly similar doctrines. If a person is allowed to act to their detriment
on the supposition that there is a valid contract, they may bring a claim based upon a
constructive trust or estoppel. These remedies require proof of detriment, which is more
difficult to prove than was part performance. This area is discussed in the following
chapter. Suffice to say at this stage that the courts are wary about any widespread use of
these remedies to circumvent the 1989 Act.
Transferring the land

We now move on to the completion stage: the time when the buyer pays the purchase
price and acquires the land. The transfer document was traditionally called a conveyance,
though for registered land we refer to transfers. An important consideration for registered
land is that the transfer has to be registered before a legal title is obtained. Without
registration, the purchaser obtains no more than an equitable right to the land.
For both unregistered and registered land, the Law of Property Act 1925 (LPA),
section 52 requires there to be a deed. This is part of a wider rule that legal estates and
interests in land must be created by deed. Without a deed, the transfer is ineffective
to create a legal interest (unregistered land) or authorise registration (registered land).
What is a deed? Traditionally, deeds had to be signed, sealed and delivered (they are
sometimes called documents under seal). These rules were relaxed by section 1 of the
1989 Act. No seal is required, but a new rule is that the document must be witnessed by
a person present at the time it is signed.
Given that a seal is no longer required, how do we tell whether a document is a deed?
The 1989 Act states that ‘An instrument shall not be a deed unless . . . it makes it clear
on its face that it is intended to be a deed’. It seems unlikely that a document (even if
witnessed) will be a deed unless it describes itself as a deed.
The requirements of signature and witnessing are moderately clear. But what is meant
by requiring that it be delivered? ‘Delivered’ is a misleading word. It does not require
physical handing over of the document to the other party. Rather, it means only an inten-
tion to be bound by the deed. However, a delivered deed may be conditional on some
future event. A seller will usually sign the transfer in advance of completion, enabling
the seller time to set about moving home while the lawyers finalise the legal details.
The signing of the transfer does not immediately shift ownership. It is conditional on
completion and does not take effect until that time.
Before leaving deeds, it might be added that they can operate in areas unrelated to
land. For example, they can be used to create obligations (usually described as coven-
ants). Deeds are especially useful because, unlike normal contracts, no consideration is
required.
54
● Creating interests in land

In this section we consider the formality requirements for creating interests such as leases
and mortgages. We have already looked at estate contracts, which must be in writing.
Legal interests
LPA section 52 requires a deed. Without a deed there can at most be an equitable
interest (based upon a contract, where there is one). These formalities are commonly
overlooked as regards leases (by the parties and by students in answering problems!).
However, the tenant will have an equitable lease if there was a written contract for a
lease.
LPA section 54(2) provides an important relaxation of this rule for short leases. Even
oral leases are effective if ‘taking effect in possession for a term not exceeding three years 7
. . . at the best rent which can be reasonably obtained without taking a fine’. The three-
year maximum is straightforward, but there are further requirements. The first to con-

sider is ‘best rent . . . without taking a fine.’ The best rent requirement usually causes no
difficulty, as short leases are generally created at a full rent. The phrase ‘without taking a
fine’ means that no capital sum must be paid. Peter might lease a house to Queenie for
two years with (i) a rent of £10,000 a year; (ii) £1,000 paid now and £9,500 a year rent;
(iii) £19,000 paid now and no (or nominal) rent; or (iv) a rent of £3,000 a year. The final
situation is outside section 54(2) because the rent is clearly not the best rent. The second
and third situations also fall outside section 54(2) because the capital payments of £1,000
and £19,000 constitute fines. Only the first situation does not require a deed.
The final requirement for section 54(2) to apply is that the lease must take effect in
possession. Long v Tower Hamlets LBC 3 held that the lease must take effect in possession
at the time it is created, with the three years being counted from that time. Long involved
a lease to take effect in about three weeks’ time. It was argued that the lease would last
for less than three years. That was true and appeared to suffice under the pre-1925 law.
However, James Munby QC held that since 1925, applying the clear wording of section
54(2), the lease must take effect immediately. The three-week delay was fatal to its being
in possession.
This result may be regarded as unfortunate, as it is very common for leases to start a
short time in the future. It gives rise to some very awkward distinctions. Suppose Andy
has a flat available for occupation from 1 September. In May he advertises it as available
and reaches oral agreement that month with Bella (a student) for her to lease it for a year
from 1 September. This could be interpreted in two ways. The first is that there is a lease
to take effect from 1 September. In the absence of a deed, Long holds that this will be
ineffective. Alternatively, they may agree that Andy will give Bella a lease on 1 September.
This is a contract for a lease. As the lease will not exceed three years and, when created,
take effect in possession (it will be created and take effect on 1 September), neither lease
nor contract requires any formality. These two possibilities (future lease; contract for a
lease) will in practice be extremely difficult to distinguish, especially if there is no writing.
3
[1998] Ch 197.
55
It would be rare for Andy and Bella to think in terms of a distinction between contract
and immediate lease.
Why do we relax formality requirements for short leases? Three points spring to mind.
Short leases (like the student lease Bella was taking) are frequently entered into without
legal advice. Many people would be unaware of any requirement of a deed, so they
would not use deeds. It would be unfortunate to make it difficult to create legal leases in
this sort of situation, thereby penalising innocent parties such as Bella. Next, we shall see
in Chapter 13 that the courts sometimes imply leases from the payment of rent. This
would be difficult if all leases had to be by deed. Finally, the presence of a full rent means
that any future purchasers of the land, who are bound by the lease, will at least receive
rent. It is less clear that we should allow oral leases. It may be proper not to require a
deed, but should we not expect the parties to use writing? Even then, short implied
leases would need exemption.
Equitable interests
Declarations of trust will be separately considered in the following section. LPA section
53(1)(a) requires writing for all other equitable interests (including restrictive covenants
and equitable charges).
● Trusts
Express declarations of trust
The owner of any property can declare themselves a trustee. For land (but not other
assets), LPA section 53(1)(b) requires the declaration to be evidenced in writing. Suppose
that Sally owns a house, which she wants to be held on trust for her infant nieces Theresa
and Ursula. She could transfer the land to trustees (the transfer requires a deed), declar-
ing the trusts in the deed. Alternatively, she could simply sign a piece of paper along the
lines: ‘I hereby declare myself a trustee of 23 Acacia Avenue, Elsfield, for Theresa and
Ursula.’
Trusts not requiring writing

LPA section 53(2) establishes that resulting, implied and constructive trusts can arise
without any writing. These trusts are sometimes imposed in situations in which there is
no element of avoiding formalities. Perhaps the best example of this is where a trustee
makes a profit out of the position of trustee – as where a trustee receives a bribe for
selling trust assets to the briber. Equity requires the trustee to hold the bribe on a con-
structive trust for the beneficiaries. It would be ridiculous to say that there could be no
trust as there is no writing.
Constructive trusts can be used where injustice would result if formality requirements
were strictly insisted upon. Suppose George transfers land to his friend Harriet on the oral
understanding that Harriet is to hold on trust for George’s grandson Ivor. A few days later,
Harriet has an argument with George and proceeds to deny any liability to Ivor, assert-
ing that the land is hers. The courts are quite clear that it is fraudulent for Harriet to claim
the land for herself, when it was only transferred to her because she agreed to hold for
Ivor. To avoid such conduct (usually described as unconscionable conduct), the courts
56
impose a constructive trust. This constructive trust gives effect to an obligation which
lack of writing initially rendered ineffective. Although it avoids the normal effect of lack
of formalities, it is justified by the objective of avoiding unconscionable conduct.
We should contrast the situation in which George simply tells Ivor that he is holding
the land on trust for him. This oral declaration of trust is ineffective. This time, there is
no unconscionable conduct by anybody. We might feel that George has acted badly,
especially as he has told Ivor, but (unlike Harriet) he has not benefited from inducing
somebody to part with property. There is no constructive trust.
We will now turn to the situations in which resulting and constructive trusts are
imposed, concentrating on situations relevant to formality issues. As mentioned above,
the application of trust principles to the family home setting is postponed to Chapter 9.
Resulting trusts 7
There is said to be a resulting trust when a transferee holds on trust for the transferor.
An example of a resulting trust is where Brian transfers land to Cheryl so that she can

manage it while he goes abroad for five years. Cheryl will hold the land on a resulting
trust for Brian. LPA section 53(2) applies and the trust is effective without any writing.
Situations where resulting trusts operate

We will consider two further situations in which resulting trusts are encountered. The first is
where money is handed over, rather than land. Suppose Mary and Norman are buying
a £240,000 house together as an investment. The purchase is organised by Norman and
the house is registered in his name alone. However, Mary provides £160,000 towards
the cost, Norman paying the other £80,000. Norman will hold the house on a resulting
trust, giving Mary an equitable two-thirds share. We do not treat the money she provided
as a gift (assuming no contrary evidence) and she obtains a proportionate share in the
property purchased with it. If the house is purchased as a family home, any trust will
nearly always be what we call a common intention constructive trust. These trusts are
considered in Chapter 9.
The second situation is where a trust is set up, but it does not, as lawyers say, exhaust
the beneficial interest. Suppose Peter transfers land to Quentin and Richard to hold for
Sally for life and thereafter to Sally’s children who reach the age of 21. Sally has children
aged four and six. Sadly, both children die in a car crash a year later. Sally dies broken-
hearted ten years later, not having had further children. It is plain that this situation has
not been catered for: the trusts assume that at least one child will reach 21. There will be
a resulting trust in favour of Peter: it is unthinkable that Quentin and Richard, chosen to
be trustees, should themselves benefit from this oversight.
This second form of resulting trust is sometimes described as automatic. Even though
Peter intended to get rid of the land completely, it will still result back to him. There is
some controversy as to whether all resulting trusts should be based upon intention,4 but
this is best left to courses and books on trusts.
4
Megarry J in Re Vandervell’s Trusts (No 2) [1974] Ch 269 uses the term automatic, supported by Lord
Millett in Air Jamaica Ltd v Charlton [1999] 1 WLR 1399 at p. 1412 (PC); contra Lord Browne-Wilkinson
in Westdeutsche Landesbank Girozentrale v Islington LBC [1996] AC 669 at p. 708.
57
The presumption of resulting trust

Leaving aside this last point on automatic resulting trusts, a resulting trust is presumed
whenever property (or money) is transferred to another without consideration. Returning
to the example involving Mary and Norman, there is no need for Mary to prove that she
did not intend a gift. A resulting trust is presumed and it is up to Norman to prove that
a gift was intended.
This presumption against gifts looks rather surprising. When people transfer property
to others, they usually expect the recipient to own it, not that the recipient holds on trust
for them. Indeed, it is trivially easy to persuade the courts that handing over a box of
chocolates to a friend at Christmas is a gift. The presumption of resulting trust is more
understandable in two types of situation. The first is where the transferee is not a friend
or relation. If a person transfers land to his bank manager, it is most unlikely that a gift is
intended. It is most likely to be linked to the transferor’s later telling the bank manager
that he is to hold on trust for, say, the transferor’s children.
The second type of situation is nicely exemplified by Sekhon v Alissa.5 A mother gave
her daughter £22,500 (a large sum in the early 1980s) to enable a house to be bought.
The daughter argued that this was a gift and that any obligation owed to her mother was
merely a moral one. Given that this was virtually all the mother’s money and that she had
two other children, Hoffmann J was able to find that no gift was intended. This did not
require the application of presumptions, but the facts show how a presumption of a gift
could often be inappropriate where valuable assets are at stake.
It remains to consider a statutory provision on resulting trusts. LPA section 60(3) enacts
that ‘a resulting trust for the grantor shall not be implied merely by reason that the prop-
erty is not expressed to be conveyed for the use or benefit of the grantee’. Though this
seems to exclude the presumption of resulting trust, a contrary view is that it was intended
to deal with a different and highly technical aspect of the pre-1925 law. Its effect has
never been settled. The fullest analysis is that of the trial judge in Lohia v Lohia,6 who
concluded that it does reverse the presumption of resulting trust. However, the Court of
Appeal appeared unsure whether this was the correct answer7 and the position remains
unclear. In any event, section 60(3) applies only to the transfer of land (as in the Brian
and Cheryl example). The great majority of cases in recent decades have involved the
transfer of money rather than land (as does the Mary and Norman example). Those cases
are unaffected by section 60(3) and the resulting trust presumption still applies.
Rebutting the intention

In two situations, the presumption of resulting trust is replaced by a presumption of gift,
described as the presumption of advancement. The first is where a father transfers
property to children and the second is where a husband transfers property to his wife.
Both seem to be based on the obligation of the transferor to maintain the transferee.
As regards husband and wife, the reasoning seems archaic and unsuited for modern law.
5
[1989] 2 FLR 94.
6
[2001] WTLR 101.
7
[2001] EWCA Civ 1691 at [24], [25]; (2002) 16 Trust Law International 231.
58
In Pettitt v Pettitt 8 the House of Lords relegated the presumption to a very minor role.
Indeed, they thought that neither the presumption of advancement nor the presumption
of resulting trust has a significant role today. Virtually all cases can be solved by looking
at the facts and drawing the appropriate inference as to whether a gift was intended.
The presumption of advancement in transfers from fathers to children seems more
viable. Though there is no modern English authority on transfers from mothers, it would
be surprising if the presumption were still to be limited to fathers.
Transfers for fraudulent purposes

Suppose that Helen and Janet are living together in a house owned by Helen. Helen is in
business and fears that her business may fail. She would probably then become bank-
rupt, whereupon the house would be sold to pay her debts. To avoid this, she transfers
7
the house to Janet on the basis that Helen is to remain the owner in equity. Should bank-
ruptcy occur, Helen and Janet will treat Janet as the equitable owner so that the creditors

cannot obtain the house. This is seen as fraudulent conduct: the plan is to disguise the
parties’ true intentions in a scheme designed to defeat the legitimate claims of creditors.
Helen cannot argue both that it is her property (as against Janet, if they fall out) and that
she has no interest in it (as against the creditors).
The question generally surfaces when the original owner (the transferor) attempts to
claim the property back. The original approach is typified by Tinker v Tinker,9 the facts of
which were similar to our example (the parties were husband and wife). It was clear that
the transfer was intended to put assets out of the reach of creditors. The Court of Appeal
held that it would assume that the husband (the transferor) was not fraudulent and
on that basis he could not deny that there was a gift to the wife. He could not reclaim
the land.
The more modern approach derives from Tinsley v Milligan.10 The case involved two
women, like Helen and Janet. Their intention was that the transferor should be able to
claim social security benefits, available only if she had no interest in the house. The House
of Lords held that if she had to rely on her fraudulent purpose, then she could not assert
rights to the land. However, her transfer gave rise to a resulting trust, which enabled
her to recover the land (there being no intention of gift). Because that resulting trust was
presumed, she did not have to rely on her fraudulent purpose.
This is a controversial decision because it places emphasis upon the presumption of
resulting trust. This becomes very significant in the husband and wife context. If the wife
transfers to the husband for a fraudulent purpose, then Tinsley applies and the wife could
rely on a resulting trust. However, a transfer by a husband to wife (as in Tinker) would
produce a different result. The transferee wife would win, as the presumption of advance-
ment operates in the wife’s favour. These results are inconsistent with the modern trend
to play down the significance of the presumptions and, in particular, the presumption of
8
[1970] AC 777.
9
[1970] P 136.
10
[1994] 1 AC 340.
59
advancement. Tinsley has been heavily criticised by courts in other jurisdictions (and
some English judges), as well as by commentators and the Law Commission.11
Constructive trusts
Constructive trusts are imposed to avoid unconscionable or unfair conduct. We will deal
only with examples that impinge on formality rules for land transactions.
Promises by a transferee in favour of the transferor

In Bannister v Bannister,12 a purchaser orally agreed to hold on trust for the transferor
(his sister-in-law) during her lifetime. The purchaser (transferee) paid considerably less
than the land was worth with vacant possession. He later sought to evict the transferor.
The oral trust fell foul of the writing requirement in LPA section 53(1)(b), but the Court
of Appeal imposed a constructive trust based upon the transferee’s fraudulent conduct:
he was seeking to deny the obligation that had enabled him to buy the property very
cheaply. It is not necessary that the transferee should have a fraudulent intent at the time
of the transfer: a genuine intention to honour the oral trust is no defence. Instead, the
law says that it would be fraudulent to assert, at whatever time, the legal title free of the
oral trust. A change of mind by the transferee constitutes fraud.
The recognition of a trust in cases such as Bannister is relatively uncontroversial:
virtually nobody would want the formality rules to facilitate such fraudulent conduct.
However, the true nature of the trust has proved controversial. Although Bannister treats
the trust as constructive, some cases say that the trust is an express one, enforced because
of the fraud of the transferee. This reaches the same result, though by different reason-
ing. The constructive trust possesses the advantage that it is explicitly excluded from
formality requirements by section 53(2); it has been used by the more recent cases.
Alternatively, could Bannister be explained as a resulting trust? Some similar situations
could be explained that way. However, the resulting trust is less easy to apply when some
specific right (the life interest in Bannister) is intended to be retained.
Promises by a transferee in favour of a third party

Suppose that in Bannister the purchaser had agreed that the transferor’s sister should
have a life interest. Can that agreement be enforced? It seems clear that there is a con-
structive trust in favour of the sister. Again, it would be fraudulent for the transferee
(purchaser) to be able to rely on the lack of writing in order to profit from the transfer.
However, this form of the trust raises additional questions. Should the trust be in
favour of the sister or of the transferor? The sister is a volunteer and it may be said that
it is the transferor who has been taken advantage of. Yet the courts have shown little
hesitation in holding that there is a trust for the third party (the sister).13 One reason for this
is that the oral trust may produce a benefit which can be enjoyed only by the third party.
Suppose the transferor sells a house when emigrating, on the oral basis that her sister can
reside in it. A right to reside will be worthless for the transferor who is now living abroad.
11
Most recently, see Law Com CP 189, Part 6.
12
[1948] 2 All ER 133.
13
One example is Binions v Evans [1972] Ch 359, discussed at p. 227 below.
60
Critical and controversial issues
The only effective remedy for the fraud is to recognise a trust in favour of the sister, which
the sister can enforce.
The previous paragraph shows how the constructive trust avoids privity problems:
normally only parties to agreements can rely on them. This should not concern us
too much, as express trusts already constitute an exception to privity. If Andy transfers
property to Brian on an express written trust for Carla, it has been clear from the incep-
tion of trust law that Carla is able to claim under the trust.
It is sometimes argued that, absent any express written trust, it would be preferable
for the third party to claim under the Contracts (Rights of Third Parties) Act 1999. It will
be recalled that this Act enables third parties to enforce contract terms which are intended
to be enforceable by them. It seems probable that a promise which gives rise to a con-
structive trust will also trigger the 1999 Act (and vice versa). However, it remains neces-
sary to rely on the constructive trust if there is no enforceable contract between transferor 7
and transferee (most obviously because of lack of formalities).

So far, we have considered who can sue. Two other difficult questions will be con-
sidered in Chapter 15, when we look at the use of constructive trusts to give effect
to licences to use land. The first question relates to the nature of the promise by the
purchaser. We will see that a promise to buy ‘subject to’ the rights of a third party does
not necessarily mean that the purchaser promises to honour those rights. The second
is whether the third party obtains a proprietary interest in the land.
The family home

The use of constructive trusts in the family home setting forms a large part of Chapter 9.
In this section, we will outline a simple example of how the constructive trust operates.
Let us suppose that Anna and Barry set up home together. They buy a house, Barry pro-
viding £50,000, Anna £20,000 and a mortgage loan the remaining £180,000. There is
a clear oral agreement between them that the legal title will be put in Anna’s name
(she deals with most of their financial affairs), but that it is to be held on trust for both
of them equally.
The courts will hold that there is a constructive trust to give effect to their common
intention: it would be unconscionable for Anna to deny Barry any share after he has acted
to his detriment by contributing to the purchase. This is different from the constructive
trust categories considered above as the transferor (the person who sells to Anna) has not
the slightest interest in who the beneficial owners should be. Resulting trust principles
might seem relevant as regards Barry’s £50,000, but they would give Barry a share
proportionate to his contribution. This is not what Anna and Barry intend, so we use a
constructive trust to give them equal shares.

● The reasons for formality rules
This chapter is full of details of writing and deeds requirements. We need to be clear why
we have such rules. The background position is that formalities are not generally required
61
by common law or equity. Contracts can be entered into (or varied) orally and property
can be sold or given away without writing. It makes no difference how valuable the
contract or object is. If I were to own a £500,000 yacht, I could make a present of it
(or contract to sell it) without any need for writing.
There are good reasons for requiring deeds for land transfers: for example, they pro-
vide certainty as to what is intended and limit the danger of entering into important
transactions without giving them real thought. However, it must be remembered that
formality requirements are themselves capable of causing injustice. Suppose that Rani is
unaware of the law and simply signs a document transferring a house to her friend,
Stephen, as a gift. Stephen takes possession of the house and begins to update the wiring
and plumbing. A year later they quarrel and Rani seeks the return of the land on the basis
that, without a deed, there was no effective transfer. If she succeeds, Stephen loses the
house he has and the money spent in improving it. Does the injustice he suffers outweigh
the benefits that the formality rules are intended to produce? In severe cases, the courts
may be able to neutralise such unfortunate effects of formalities. For example, Stephen
may well be able to rely on estoppel. This makes formality rules more acceptable, but it
inevitably leads to greater complications in the law and uncertainty as to exactly when
the courts will intervene.
Especially because formality rules can themselves cause problems, it is important to
understand why they are thought to play a useful role. We now turn to the arguments
most commonly advanced.
Justifications
Avoiding fraud
The origins of our present rules lie in the Statute of Frauds 1677. The fraud contemplated
is the false assertion that a transfer has been made or an obligation undertaken. In the
above example this would be fraud by Stephen, if he had asserted a transfer by Rani
which in fact had never taken place. If we require writing, then this risk is taken away (at
least unless Stephen forged the document). Yet when the modern cases refer to fraud, it
is usually the fraud of the person who tries to avoid an obligation by relying on failure
to comply with formality requirements (fraud by Rani). There is little evidence in the
modern law that obligations or dispositions are fraudulently asserted on a regular basis.
Property other than land can be sold orally and given away by simply handing it over:
there are few cases where sales or gifts have been fraudulently asserted.
The evidential function

Writing provides the best evidence of what the parties have agreed. The benefits of this
are not limited to cases of fraud. There may be genuine uncertainty as to whether the
parties had reached final agreement in a sale of land. Furthermore, the terms of an oral
agreement or trust are likely to be shrouded in uncertainty. Putting them in writing will
clarify exactly what was intended.
Consider an everyday contract for the sale of land. Without writing, the parties may
be at odds as to when completion will take place, whether certain objects (whether or
62
not fixtures) are included in the sale and whether the seller will be allowed to store
surplus furniture on the land for a short period after sale.
The cautionary function

Many people believe, quite wrongly, that no liability can be incurred without writing.
This can lead to their undertaking obligations without much thought. Writing cannot
guarantee that an appropriate amount of thought is devoted to the issue, but it helps to
ensure that individuals appreciate that they are committing themselves. This becomes
even stronger when we consider the requirements of deeds. The extra formality required
(in particular, the need for a witness) renders it less likely that an obligation will be
‘accidentally’ undertaken. Indeed, it makes it more likely that a lawyer will be consulted,
as the average person will not know how to create a deed. Having a lawyer limits the
dangers of obligations being entered into without appreciating the consequences. 7
The channelling function

Formality requirements can help to ensure that the appropriate forms are used. This is
most likely to apply if lawyers (or other professionals) are brought into the transaction.
Where standard forms are used, they are unlikely to be ambiguous and they will cover all
the common questions and problems that may arise from the transaction. Non-lawyers
are, in contrast, likely to use wording which is difficult to interpret or include technical
legal terms without understanding their significance. Formality rules cannot force people
to use lawyers (nor should they), but there are good reasons to encourage people to take
professional advice in suitable cases.
Contracts to sell land provide a good example. Lawyers invariably use a standard form
of contract which sets out to deal with the many problems that may arise on the sale of
land. These cover a host of circumstances that the buyer and seller are unlikely to think
about, including detailed timescales and procedures for completion. Using a standard
form enables the lawyers to concentrate on special factors which the parties have agreed
(for example, that the seller is able to remove rose bushes of sentimental value).
Are the justifications convincing?

Most of these justifications are persuasive: they are not silly points. Whether they are suf-
ficiently convincing to justify our formality rules is another matter. Even when formality
rules are not complied with, it is common for there to be no doubt that an obligation
has been undertaken and what its terms are. This does not protect it from failure. As we
have seen, many cases have revealed that formality rules are used to get out of disposi-
tions and obligations that have been deliberately undertaken.
The system works because the courts are prepared to use constructive trusts and
estoppels to avoid the worst effects of the formality rules. It may be thought unfortunate
that the courts have had to develop these principles without any guidance from the
legislation establishing formality requirements. This has led to much uncertainty and
litigation as to exactly when the courts will intervene.
A more specific question is whether we can justify having special rules for land trans-
actions: the justifications above are not couched in terms specific to land. One point is
that land transactions are inherently complex, partly because more varied interests can
63
exist in land than in other forms of property. This means that several of the justifications
carry greater force as regards land.
A second point is that, for many individuals, their home is their most important asset
(both financially and as regards its role in their lives). The cautionary function, in par-
ticular, is very important in this respect. It may be true that some yachts and diamonds
can be worth more than many small houses, but it would be wrong to overlook the
significance of land, especially as a home.
A third point is that many land transactions can be undertaken without their being
obvious from the land itself. In contrast, most sales and gifts of other objects are accom-
panied by a change in possession of the objects. Especially where no change in posses-
sion is involved (the wide range of interests in land makes this quite common), we can
justify looking for some degree of corroboration from writing.
A final and rather different point is that modern land law is based on the entry of dis-
positions and contracts on the register. This would be far more difficult to operate if trans-
actions could be entered into orally: how could the land registry be sure that an interest
is valid? We shall see in the following section that formalities are being overtaken by
electronic entries on the register. As the registration system applies only to land, it
inevitably follows that these new electronic ways of creating and dealing with interests
are unique to land.
● Electronic conveyancing
The law on land registration was reformed by the Land Registration Act 2002,
which will be studied in Chapter 10. A significant element of the reforms lies in the intro-
duction of electronic registration (e-conveyancing). The new rules will apply to most
land transactions: the word ‘conveyancing’ gives a misleadingly narrow impression.
Generally, this book contains little about the mechanics of how land is sold. Nevertheless,
e-conveyancing will have a significant and growing impact on the rules discussed in this
chapter. Indeed, it will be seen that most of them will simply disappear and the remain-
der will apply only infrequently.
Before explaining what e-conveyancing involves, it is helpful to understand the
current methods of transferring registered land. Suppose Vera is selling her house to
William. At completion, Vera will execute a transfer of the land to William, who takes
possession. William will send the transfer to the land registry to be registered. Once the
land registry has checked that all is in order (it frequently isn’t), William will be registered
as proprietor. Only at that stage does William obtain the legal title.
Under e-conveyancing, there will be no transfer document and no application to
the land registry. Instead, Vera’s solicitor will directly instruct the land registry’s computer
to enter William as the new proprietor (as we describe the holder of the registered
title). A press on the return button of a computer will replace all the pre-2002 stages.
E-conveyancing is designed to speed and simplify the conveyancing process in a com-
puterised age. It brings several welcome consequences, one being that it obliterates the
‘registration gap’ between completion and registration – this gap can at present cause
real problems for purchasers.
64
E-conveyancing represents a radical change in how conveyancing is conducted and

how the registration system operates. It was described by the Law Commission as a
‘Conveyancing Revolution’.14 Registered titles have been held in computerised forms for
several years. By visiting the land registry website15 and entering your postcode you
can see whether your home is registered. If it is (over 90 per cent are), then you can get
a copy of the register for £4. However, implementation of the new scheme has required
many changes to existing practices. One example is that technical flaws in document-
ation are frequently discovered when a purchaser seeks to register a transfer. In future,
problems will have to be sorted out in advance of completion.
If the seller’s solicitor will be changing ownership on the register, warning bells should
be sounding regarding potential mistake or fraud. To limit the dangers, access to the
register will be limited to members of the new land registry network, which all solicitors
conveying land will need to join. Security controls will ensure that others cannot gain 7
access. The details of internet security lie outside the scope of the present book, though

one point might be noted. Those using e-conveyancing will need to have electronic sig-
natures (a secure way of confirming the identity of the sender). Very few individuals have
electronic signatures, which is why so much reliance is placed on the role of professional
conveyancers.
In the years immediately after the 2002 Act, the initial stages consisted of designing
the system, educating the legal profession and setting up the network. Pilot schemes are
being undertaken before the system is rolled out nationally. Furthermore, there will be
no single ‘big-bang’ commencement. The land registry has already introduced online
facilities for a few specific transactions (discharge of repaid mortgages, for example), with
a significant extension to electronic mortgages (e-charges) in 2009. As of 2009, it is
anticipated that electronic transfers will be introduced in 2010 or 2011.
The long lead-time between the legislation in 2002 and the operation of e-conveyancing
is one reason why the 2002 Act provides little detail. It is natural that procedures
will evolve in the light of experience. At present, we can do little more than sketch the
general outlines of the scheme: future statutory instruments will spell out more detail.
We can now turn to the three crucial statutory provisions.
Electronic Communications Act 2000

This legislation covers a very wide sphere of activities, of which land transactions form a
small part. Section 8 will enable transactions to be carried out electronically, replacing
requirements such as writing. A statutory instrument is planned to activate section 8 for
contracts for the sale of land. This will remove the normal writing requirements imposed
by the 1989 Act. The new electronic contract must have the electronic signature of each
of the parties (or that of their lawyers) and contain all the terms of the contract.
It is rather odd that we have section 8 operating alongside the LRA provisions dis-
cussed below; it would be more convenient to have all the e-conveyancing provisions
14
The title of Law Com No 271. The proposals are summarised in paras 2.41–2.68 and discussed in
Part XIII.
15
http://www.landreg.gov.uk/
65
together. It seems to be explained on the basis that section 8 (unlike LRA) applies to both
registered and unregistered land.
Land Registration Act, section 91

Section 91 is the provision under which all other e-conveyancing will be introduced. It
permits dispositions to be undertaken in electronic form, with electronic signatures being
effective in the place of written signatures. The word ‘dispositions’ is broad, though it
seems not to include contracts (hence the need for section 8 of the 2000 Act).
Section 91 will apply to such dispositions specified by a future statutory instrument,
so we cannot be sure what will be covered. Most obviously, it will apply to charges and
transfers of registered land. The creation of any kind of interest is a disposition, but in the
early years e-conveyancing is most likely to apply to charges, transfers and leases. When
a disposition is undertaken in electronic form, the normal requirements of writing and
deeds become unnecessary. Here we begin to see the impact on the rules discussed
earlier in this chapter: they become optional rather than compulsory for transactions to
which e-conveyancing applies.
It was observed above that e-conveyancing will operate (as regards transfers) so as to
pass ownership to the purchaser directly. This achieves more than replacing the present
deed of transfer: the register is simultaneously changed so that the buyer is the registered
proprietor. It may be best seen as a tripartite transaction involving buyer, seller and land
registry. This is not obvious from the wording of section 91, which concentrates on
making the electronic disposition as good as if it were by deed.
What happens if a solicitor (a member of the network) does not have authority to
enter into a transaction? Suppose, for example, that a seller decides to pull out of a sale
and informs his lawyer of this. The lawyer overlooks this and continues with the sale.
The example becomes more realistic if we add that the seller leaves the country for
two months and cannot be contacted whilst abroad. The answer is that the 2002 Act
confers full authority on the solicitor:16 the seller loses the land, though he could sue
the solicitor. The reason for this is that the solicitor’s authority often could not be proved
without writing and it is thought to be inconsistent with an e-conveyancing system for
the purchaser to insist on seeing writing.
Indeed, the same protection applies even if the solicitor had never been instructed at
all. Suppose that Mary is a registered proprietor who has rented land out and lives
abroad; she has never wanted to sell. Norman plans to benefit from a fraud whereby the
land is sold to Olive and the purchase money is diverted to him. He forges a letter of
authorisation by Mary, asking her solicitor to transfer the land to Olive and pay the pro-
ceeds to Norman. The letter requests the solicitor to direct any enquiries to Norman as
Mary is abroad. The solicitor is taken in by this forged authorisation and in due course
there is an electronic transfer to Olive, who is unaware of the fraud. Mary loses the land
and has to be satisfied with compensation. This might be thought to be taking matters
too far in the purchaser’s favour.
16
LRA, Sched 5, para 8.
66
Land Registration Act 2002, section 93

The above provisions establish e-conveyancing as an option for those dealing with land.
However, it is intended that e-conveyancing shall become the only way of dealing with
land. This is authorised by section 93, but it will not be implemented until e-conveyancing
has become established, solicitors are used to operating it and any flaws in the system
have been ironed out.
One form of compulsion may operate quite early: the network agreements entered
into by solicitors may require all transactions to be undertaken electronically. This
compulsion would operate, therefore, on solicitors rather than directly on landowners.
However, because nearly all land transactions are carried out by solicitors it would be
effective to ensure that the great majority of transactions are carried out electronically.
The other and more formal compulsion will derive from LRA section 93. This provides
that a disposition or contract ‘only has effect’ if created electronically and is communi- 7
cated electronically to the land registry. There are three issues to consider: the scope of

section 93, the effect of failure to use e-conveyancing and the effect of e-conveyancing
on formality and other land law rules.
The scope of section 93

An initial point is that, unlike section 91, section 93 applies to contracts as well as dis-
positions. As with section 91, a statutory instrument will identify exactly what is covered.
The list of interests will be especially crucial for section 93. It is easy to say that a trans-
action may be undertaken electronically (section 91), but quite different to say that it
must be so undertaken (section 93). Suppose the scope of electronic e-conveyancing is
(eventually) set very wide. As regards section 91, this causes almost no problems should
few people choose to use it for a particular type of transaction. However, failure to use
e-conveyancing when section 93 applies is disastrous: we shall see that the transaction
fails completely. Therefore, it would be both justified and sensible to specify a wider class
of dispositions for section 91 than for section 93.
The legislation provides no clue as to what dispositions will be excluded from the
operation of section 93. Just like e-conveyancing under section 91, it is likely to be intro-
duced in phases, so that only more straightforward dispositions are covered initially.
In time, however, the expectation is that e-conveyancing will be compulsory for virtually
all dispositions. Accordingly, we pose the negative question: what will be excluded?
The Law Commission has made suggestions.17 However, there may well be nearly 20 years
between their suggestions and the eventual implementation of section 93. It follows that
some significant changes are likely. They list four categories:
(1) Rights not requiring express grant These include rights by estoppel, implied and
prescriptive easements and adverse possession. As no writing is required to create
such rights, it would be utterly unrealistic to require them to be created electronically
and unjust to render them invalid. Indeed, some of them are created by the court
17
Law Com No 254, para 11.12.
67
or legislation rather than by any disposition between the parties; estoppel is one
example.
(2) Dispositions taking effect by operation of law These cover death (passing to
personal representatives) and bankruptcy (passing to the trustee in bankruptcy
– the person who administers the assets of the bankrupt individual).
(3) Interests under trusts The general approach is that trusts are excluded from the
register, though an entry can be made to ensure that the land is properly dealt with.
It might be thought that the express creation of trusts should require electronic
creation, just as they presently require evidence in writing.18 It is more defensible that
resulting and constructive trusts should operate without electronic creation. They are
created by the courts and are exempt from writing requirements.19
(4) Overriding interest leases These are short leases, not exceeding seven years. The
period is expected to be reduced to three years in the next few years and this helps
explain their exclusion. As many leases not exceeding three years can be created
without writing, frequently without solicitors being involved, it would seem wrong
to insist on electronic registration. Indeed, these leases are so numerous and transient
that we do not allow them to be entered on the register.
This list shows that, apart from express trusts and short leases, all express dispositions are
likely to be caught. Another way of looking at it is that whenever writing is presently
required, e-conveyancing will usually become compulsory; express trusts form the only
exception. This illustrates the huge scope that e-conveyancing is expected to have.
The effect of failure to use e-conveyancing

Present registration rules provide that an interest binds a purchaser only if it is protected
on the register. However, it remains an interest in the land despite failure to protect it.
This means that, for example, it can be enforced after the death or bankruptcy of the
grantor. Section 93 is quite different; it states that a disposition or contract ‘only has
effect’ if e-conveyancing is used. Without e-conveyancing, there is no interest at all. In
this respect the rules operate far more like formality rules than registration rules. Indeed,
it appears that there are not even any contractual obligations between the parties.
It does not take too much imagination to realise that that there will be many occasions
when the parties fail to use e-conveyancing. This is most likely if they do not use solici-
tors for the transaction. Suppose Garry sells land to Harry. Garry transfers the land to
Harry by a deed, in return for the purchase price. The transfer is ineffective because it is
not an electronic transfer as required by section 93. It would be monstrous if Garry could
keep the sale price and deny Harry any right to the land. If they had failed to employ the
old formality requirement of a deed, the courts would probably have imposed a con-
structive trust to avoid unconscionable conduct by Garry. Another possibility, occasion-
ally applied to contracts that fail to comply with the 1989 Act, is to use estoppel. These
remedies would be based on Harry’s detrimental reliance on his supposed acquiring of
18
LPA, s 53(1)(b).
19
LPA, s 53(2).
68
ownership. It may confidently be expected that the courts will turn to these ideas when
e-conveyancing requirements are overlooked. What remains unclear is just how fre-
quently they will be employed. The courts are likely to be wary of allowing too broad an
inroad into e-conveyancing requirements, while being sympathetic to those who are
ignorant of them. A lesser solution would be to allow a purchaser such as Harry to recover
the money paid.
The impact of e-conveyancing

E-conveyancing will obviously result in significant changes in the ways in which land
transactions are undertaken. However, in this section we are more interested in its effect
on legal principles. Two issues are now considered.
The first concerns the impact on land registration. This will be considered in Chapter 10,
but one example is given here. Suppose Andrew contracts to lease land to Briony, but 7
then sells it to Clare (who registers the transfer). Briony has been allowed to occupy the

land, but has not protected her estate contract on the register. Under present principles,
we would say that Briony can assert her estate contract against Clare. This is because
she has an interest in the land which is protected by virtue of her being in actual occu-
pation of the land.20 Under electronic conveyancing, section 93 will ensure that she has
no interest at all. It follows that there is nothing that her actual occupation can protect;
Clare can evict her.
The second issue returns to the concerns of this chapter: most of our formality rules
can be forgotten. E-conveyancing will be limited to registered land, but by the time that
section 93 is activated nearly all titles will be registered. Not only will the old require-
ments become optional (the effect of the 2002 Act and section 91), but soon the old
methods of deeds and writing will be useless. This was seen in the above example
concerning Harry and Garry: the use of a deed to transfer the land has zero effect. Unless
they entered into a prior electronic contract to buy and sell (unlikely), Harry will not even
have an equitable interest. He has paid his money and got nothing in return.
We may still have to consider formality rules for interests exempted from section 93
(express trusts, in particular) and some of the material on contracts may be relevant for
working out what must be in the electronic contract (collateral contracts will remain
important, for example), but most of the material in this chapter will become history.
Conclusions
In an era when so many activities are computerised, it should cause no surprise that
land transactions will be included. Nevertheless, e-conveyancing involves some very sub-
stantial changes. It is far more than a simple facility to replace paper documents with
electronic transactions: its description as a conveyancing revolution seems justified.
The most challenging questions (leaving aside practical issues such as the security of
the system) relate to the effect of the changes on the overall operation of land law prin-
ciples. The impact is most obviously radical in the context of formality rules, but there
20
LRA, s 29 and Sched 3, para 2.
69
are many consequential effects to be seen in the operation of registered land principles.
It is likely to be one of those reforms whose exact effects are difficult to predict with any
degree of accuracy.

70
8 Estoppel

stoppel gives effect to expectations. Like constructive trusts, it is intended to avoid
E an owner’s unconscionable (unfair) conduct. In estoppel, the unconscionable con-
duct exists if the owner denies the expectation after having encouraged it, provided
that the claimant has acted to their detriment. Estoppel is important for two principal
reasons. First, it recognises obligations in situations where none would otherwise exist.
Next, it plays an important role in circumventing formality requirements, bearing in mind
that the creation of nearly every interest in land requires writing or (for legal interests)
a deed.
Two examples illustrate how it works. The first is based on the influential nineteenth-
century case of Dillwyn v Llewelyn.1 A father wanted a son to live close to him and offered
him a farm on which he could build a house. The son agreed and spent a very large sum
on building. The transaction was recorded in a document, but this had no effect as a
deed is required for a legal estate to be transferred. After the father died, the son’s rights
were challenged by other relatives. Lord Westbury LC was emphatic that the son’s expen-
diture, undertaken with the father’s approval, gave the son an equitable right to the land.
This is a good example of estoppel operating to avoid the formality requirement of a deed.
It might be noted that no claim could have been mounted if the son had not undertaken
the expenditure.
In the second example, Richard and Sally are neighbours. Sally is building a large
garage, but does not realise that most of it is on Richard’s side of the boundary. Richard
is aware of this, but says nothing other than to tell Sally that her half-built garage looks
nice. After it is finished, they quarrel and Richard says that Sally must either pull the
garage down or allow him to use the part which is on his land. In this situation, the courts
will say that Richard acquiesced in Sally’s mistake as to the ownership of the relevant area
of land. He will be prevented from asserting ownership of it. This second example shows
estoppel being used outside the formalities setting. Estoppel protects expectations
regardless of whether a deliberate attempt to create property rights has been made.
1
(1862) 4 De GF&J 517 (45 ER 1285).
71
Estoppel is not limited to just the property context. It applies in many different areas,
operating to stop a person from asserting rights or arguments. One example (far removed
from land law) is that once a point has been settled in litigation between two persons,
it cannot be challenged in other proceedings between them. Most students will have
encountered the principle of promissory estoppel in the law of contract, based on the High
Trees case.2 This form of estoppel operates as a defence. The estoppel we are dealing with
in this chapter – proprietary estoppel – is much more powerful and has a positive effect.
In Dillwyn, it didn’t merely protect the son from being evicted but conferred a right to
the fee simple. This is discussed later in this chapter.
Proprietary estoppel (which we will shorten to estoppel) has roots going back at least
to the early nineteenth century. However, the area was overlooked for the best part of a
century until it resurfaced in cases in the 1950s. Nearly all the cases in this chapter have
been decided in the past 50 years, making it feel more modern than many areas of land
law. Indeed, some of the features most discussed today (the remedy being the leading
example) have emerged only in recent decades.
Three major issues are considered in this chapter. The first concerns the circumstances
when an estoppel will arise. Two specific aspects of this – the use of estoppel to enforce
promises and its use in sale negotiations – are discussed as ‘Critical and controversial
issues’. The second major issue concerns the remedy which will be given when an estoppel
has arisen. It cannot be assumed that effect will always be given to expectations. Suppose
Arthur makes an oral (and therefore ineffective) gift of a house, worth £200,000, to
Brenda. Brenda spends £3,000 replacing the central heating system. The courts may say
that there is an estoppel because of her expenditure on the supposition that the house
was hers. However, the benefit of a £200,000 house is so disproportionate to the £3,000
expenditure that the courts may well decide to give another remedy – perhaps the return
of the money spent. This area has featured in several very recent cases and will form
another ‘Critical and controversial issue’.
The final issue to be considered relates to the proprietary effect of the estoppel: does
it bind a purchaser from the person who encouraged the expectation and detriment? In
Dillwyn, for example, the person bound was a relative entitled to the land under the
father’s will – not the father himself. Estoppel is almost completely derived from case law,
but recent legislation confirms that successors in title can be bound by estoppel claims.
This is not the only chapter in which estoppel is mentioned. We will see in Chapter 9
that many of the rules relating to the acquisition of interests in the family home by con-
structive trusts are very similar to estoppel. Indeed, there are suggestions that the two
areas should be integrated. However, suffice to say now that almost none of the estop-
pel cases in this chapter involve a couple agreeing to be joint owners of the family home.
Estoppel also features in Chapter 15 on licences. A licence is a permission to enter or
use land; it is thought not to be proprietary. Estoppel is especially interesting in that con-
text because it gives effect to non-proprietary rights over land. If a licence protected by
an estoppel binds purchasers, then that is a remarkable result. In the present chapter,
we consider the simpler (and more typical) situation where there is an expectation of a
2
Central London Property Trust Ltd v High Trees House Ltd [1947] KB 130.
72
conventional property right: fee simple (as in the examples at the beginning of this
chapter), lease and easement being the most obvious rights.

● When will estoppel arise?
The basic test
The traditional requirements for estoppel were laid down by Fry J in Willmott v Barber 3
over a century ago. Fry J identified five requirements (generally known as probanda).
They may be summarised as follows, describing the owner as O and the claimant (the
person who has acted to their detriment) as C: 8
(1) C must have made a mistake as to his rights;
Estoppel
(2) C must have expended money or done some act (not necessarily on O’s land)
because of the mistake;
(3) O must be aware of his right (relevant to its being unconscionable to assert his title);
(4) O must be aware of C’s mistake;
(5) O must have encouraged C’s expenditure, either directly or by not asserting his
rights.
It is easy to see that the two examples at the beginning of this chapter satisfy these
requirements. However, the perception that they were too restrictive, if applied literally,
resulted in a switch of approach in Taylors Fashions Ltd v Liverpool Victoria Trustees Co
Ltd.4 The case was complex, but it involved an option for a tenant to renew the lease of
a shop. Unknown to both tenant and landlord, the option had become void. The tenant
(C) argued that detriment had been incurred in the belief (encouraged by the landlord,
O) that the option was valid. In this context, the third of the probanda caused difficulty:
O was unaware that the option was void. Oliver J held that the underlying test from the
cases was whether ‘it was unconscionable for the defendant to seek to take advantage
of the mistake’. This rests the law on general unconscionability ideas, rather than the
precise requirements articulated by Fry J. Although it is only a first instance decision,
the judgment of Oliver J has been widely accepted and applied: the language of uncon-
scionability is now common.
As Oliver J recognised, this does not mean that we can forget about the probanda.
They illustrate the factors that lie at the heart of estoppel. We might say that there are
three major components: the mistake made by C (the first of the probanda), detrimental
reliance by C (the second of them) and responsibility on the part of O (the last three).
Confirming this, the House of Lords in Cobbe v Yeoman’s Row Management Ltd 5 has
recently stressed that more than unconscionability is required to prove estoppel. Though
3
(1880) 15 Ch D 96.
4
[1982] QB 133 (decided 1979). The application of the test to the facts is considered at p. 76, below.
5
[2008] 1 WLR 1752; p. 83 below.
73
we will see that the impact of Cobbe has proved to be less dramatic than some thought,
this point seems to survive.
The mistake: assumptions and representations

The probanda refer to mistake: C has made a mistake as to rights in the land, which has
been encouraged by O. The language of mistake can apply to some cases where there is
a representation by O. Suppose that David tells his new neighbour Erica that her house
has an easement so that she can get access to it over David’s drive. Erica then builds a
garage which can be accessed only from David’s drive. Subsequently David denies that
there is such an easement and in strict law it turns out that he is right. This is a case in
which it is accurate to talk of a mistake by Erica.
However, the law does not stop there. The well-known decision in Crabb v Arun
District Council 6 provides a good illustration. Crabb reached an outline agreement with
the Council for an easement of access, though it did not amount to a contract. Crabb
started to use the access, encouraged by the Council’s erecting substantial gates. There
was alternative access through another part of Crabb’s land. The crucial stage came
when Crabb sold off this part, so that the only access to his remaining land was through
the new gates. This sale was the detriment incurred by Crabb; he would not have sold
the land unless he believed that there would be a right of way over the Council’s land.
In these circumstances, the Court of Appeal held that Crabb could rely on estoppel:
it was reasonable for him to believe that there would be an easement. An important point
to note is that he cannot have thought there was already an easement: he was expect-
ing (under the outline agreement) to pay for it. Rather, he reasonably thought that an
easement had been promised in such circumstances that it would be unconscionable for
the Council to refuse to grant the access.
This expansion from mistakes to expectations was probably inevitable. To try to dis-
tinguish between a person who believes he has a right and one who believes that there
has been a promise to create a right would be almost impossible in practice. The two
situations shade into one another and the average layman would not distinguish between
them. However, the expansion has been challenged in recent cases. This is considered as
a ‘Critical and controversial issue’, with particular stress on how estoppel operates where
land contracts are oral or (as in Crabb) not finalised.
Detrimental reliance
Simply because O knows a mistake has been made does not mean that it is uncon-
scionable to disappoint expectations. A rule as wide as that would make a mockery of
virtually all formality requirements. C must undertake detrimental reliance before O’s
conduct can be regarded as unconscionable.
In many of the early cases, the detriment consisted of improving the land in question:
the son’s building a house in Dillwyn provides a good example. However, it has long
been clear that other actions constitute detriment. Two examples will be selected from
the cases. The first is undertaking work benefiting O or O’s family, sometimes in the form
6
[1976] Ch 179.
74
of personal care services. This is illustrated by Greasley v Cooke,7 in which Doris, a maid,
worked in Arthur’s house. Over time, she formed a relationship with one of his sons (Kenneth)
and was assured by him and another son (Howard; the two sons owned the house) that
she could stay there for life. She looked after the house and, in particular, looked after a
mentally ill sister of Kenneth. Some 30 years later (40 years since Doris arrived), Howard
and Kenneth had both died, as had the sister. Arthur’s family now sought to evict Doris,
but the Court of Appeal had no hesitation in holding that Doris’s actions sufficed as
detriment – no improvement of the house or expenditure of money was required. The
second example is Crabb. It will be recalled that the detriment lay in selling off land,
which would leave Crabb’s property landlocked without the claimed easement. The
detriment contained no benefit for the owner at all.
Though expenditure frequently constitutes detriment, expenditure within a family
home is often difficult to assess. This is because people living in homes naturally wish 8
to improve the quality of the environment in which they live, regardless of having any
Estoppel
property right. In some cases, the claimed detriment may be no more than an act of
gratitude for the past benefit of living there. If rent-free accommodation is valued
at £300 a month, then spending £1,000 on, say, carpets, in the course of a year may
be difficult to justify as detriment. Alternatively, we might say that there is detriment,
but (under principles considered below) no remedy is justified.
Coombes v Smith8 illustrates greater problems. Eileen and Robert, both already
married to others, became lovers. When Eileen became pregnant, she left her husband
and moved to a house provided by Robert. Although they discussed setting up home
together, this never happened. Eileen left her job before the baby was born and there-
after undertook some decorating of the house. When they quarrelled some 10 years later,
Eileen claimed she was entitled to the house. Facts of this type are found in many cases,
which makes it an interesting case. The judge treated Eileen’s actions as being the natural
actions of a woman in an unhappy marriage who wished to have a baby and live with
her lover: there was no sufficient detriment for estoppel. It might be added that Robert
accepted that she could stay there until the child reached 17: Eileen kept possession, but
could not claim ownership.
The law here faces a difficulty. It seems hard to say that these sorts of facts cannot
count as detriment, but to accept them as detriment would lead to representations being
enforceable in a very large proportion of cases where people choose to live together.
Similar conduct includes moving homes and giving up a job to be with another person.
This can be seen as a benefit (emotional as well as having a home without payment) as
much as a detriment (loss of existing accommodation and making it more difficult to
re-enter employment later). There is no final resolution of those issues, though more
recent cases have indicated a more generous approach than seen in Coombes.
A rather different point concerns the element of reliance. Not only must there be
detriment, but also it must be referable to the mistake or representation. Taylors Fashions
provides an example of a claim’s failing on this basis. The tenant of shop premises had
7
[1980] 1 WLR 1306.
8
[1986] 1 WLR 808 (Parker QC).
75
installed a lift and argued that this was detrimental reliance on an expectation of being
able to renew the lease. Oliver J was not much impressed by this. The lease had 18 years
to run anyway, so the lift could be said to have been installed to benefit the shop during
that period.
At least in the family home context, however, reliance is readily proved. This emerges
from Greasley. A factual difficulty was that Doris’s conduct could be explained as much
as resulting from her living with Kenneth as from the assurance that she could stay there
for life. The Court of Appeal considered that reliance would be presumed: there was no
need for Doris to prove why she undertook the detriment.
One type of situation requires a more subtle approach. Suppose Rose moves in with
Simon and cares for Simon’s elderly mother, Theresa. After a few years, Simon tells Rose
(younger than him) that she has been so good that he will leave the house to her when
he dies. Things remain exactly the same until Simon is killed in a car accident five years
later. Simon has not made a will and the house passes to his brother, who seeks to evict
Rose. On these facts, Rose did not change her conduct as a result of what Simon had
said: her care for Theresa was the same before and after. The courts deal with this by
saying that, had Simon later told her that she was not to get the house, Rose might well
have been upset and stopped caring for Theresa. The reliance is thus related to Simon’s
not withdrawing the promise, rather than to the making of the promise.
The owner’s responsibility

Without some responsibility for C’s mistake, it is not unconscionable for O to deny
C’s claim. Most cases involve some sort of promise or representation. This is enough to
establish responsibility. Even if there is a common mistake by O and C (so that O is not
deliberately misleading C), the active role taken by O justifies finding him liable.
This was the principal issue in Taylors Fashions. Oliver J held that estoppel operated
even though the owner of the land was unaware that the option to renew a lease had
been rendered void. It is interesting, however, that he considered that in cases of pure
acquiescence (not involving any encouragement by O) it would be more difficult to show
unconscionability if O were unaware of the true situation. On the facts of Taylors
Fashions, there were two quite different claims. One was by the tenant who installed the
lift (T1). The owner had not encouraged this and, indeed, could not object to it as T1
was entitled to make this sort of improvement. This (in addition to the reliance problems
considered above) was relevant in rejecting the tenant’s estoppel claim. A second claim
was brought by tenants (T2) of an adjoining lease, the duration of which depended
on T1’s disputed option. The fact that the owner had dealt with T2 on the basis of T1’s
having such a right was enough to establish the owner’s responsibility: an estoppel was
proved.
A rather different point is whether O must be aware of C’s reliance. If the act of
reliance is unexpected, then O may be able to argue that it is not unconscionable to
assert rights to the land free of C’s claim. This was raised in Crabb, where the Council
argued that it was unaware of Crabb’s sale of part of the land. That was rejected on the
basis that the Council was aware that he planned to sell off part: this general awareness
sufficed. But is it necessary that C has any such knowledge? Suppose that Richard tells
76
Sally that a house is hers, but without executing a deed of gift. Richard then goes on an
extended foreign visit for six months. While he is away, Sally spends large amounts of
money in improving and extending the house. Is it not unconscionable of Richard to
reclaim the house? Sally’s conduct is what one might expect a person to do with a newly
acquired house.
It may therefore be thought that a low level of awareness should suffice: no more than
knowledge of circumstances in which detrimental reliance is foreseeable. However, in
situations in which there is simple acquiescence (no representation or encouragement) it
will be rare for conduct to be unconscionable without knowledge of the detriment. The
very essence of liability is based on standing by while the mistaken party expends money
in the mistaken assumption. A person who knows only that person has made a mistake
will not normally be acting unconscionably.
8
● The remedy
Estoppel
In contract, remedies are designed to give effect to what has been promised. Does the
same apply in estoppel? Giving effect to the promise is supported both by the idea that
O cannot unconscionably deny what C has been led to expect and by the earlier cases.
As we will see in the ‘Critical and controversial issues’ section, the position has become
far more complex than this. It is clear that more stress is being placed on the detriment
in working out what remedy is appropriate. Suffice at present to make two observations.
The first is that the remedy will never exceed what has been promised, whatever the scale
of the detriment. The second is that the cases (fully discussed later) show a significant
court discretion as regards the remedy, especially if the detriment is disproportionately
small in comparison with the expectation.
● Estoppel as a proprietary claim

So far, we have considered estoppel as between O and C. What happens if O sells the
land to P? There is no independent unconscionable conduct by P, so C will have to argue
that the estoppel claim against O constitutes a proprietary interest binding P. A short
introductory point is that estoppel claims are clearly equitable in nature: they are based
on equitable principles and lie outside the legal interests listed in section 1 of the Law of
Property Act 1925. They can bind purchasers of registered land only if protected by an
entry on the register or an overriding interest. It is common for C to be in actual occu-
pation, which will usually facilitate an overriding interest.
The earlier cases

Successors in title have consistently been held bound by estoppels. Dillwyn is an early
example, involving a person taking title under O’s will. Nevertheless, a few cases and
commentators expressed the contrary view.
Land Registration Act 2002, section 116

Section 116 enacts that ‘for the avoidance of doubt’, an equity by estoppel ‘has effect
from the time the equity arises as an interest capable of binding successors in title’. It is
77
thought that the time the estoppel arises is when there is detrimental reliance. This seems
quite conclusive that estoppels constitute proprietary interests. Indeed, the way in which
this is prefixed ‘for the avoidance of doubt’ shows that Parliament thought this to be the
case already for unregistered land. Although section 116 applies only to registered land,
it seems improbable that the position in unregistered land will be held to be different.
Is proprietary status appropriate?

If estoppel is seen as simply a way of avoiding formality rules, then it is easy to see it as
giving rise to a proprietary right. Take the facts of Dillwyn. The father assured the son that
the land was his, whereupon the son built a house. This was an attempt to transfer the
land, which equity was prepared to enforce. The result is an equitable right to a fee
simple, rather similar to an equitable right under a contract. Such an equitable right can
readily be seen as proprietary.
However, it is not always as straightforward as this. We have seen that the courts do
not always give effect to expectations. Suppose that Brenda is told that a house belongs
to her. She spends £3,000 on replacing the central heating system. The courts may say
that this is significant detriment, but that getting ownership would be a disproportion-
ately generous remedy. The courts might confer a life interest or monetary remedy
instead. The obvious problem is that, before a remedy is given, it is difficult to know what
it will be. When considering what rights qualify as interests in land, an important factor
is whether they involve sufficient certainty so as not to cause purchasers unacceptable
problems. It is far from clear that estoppels satisfy this requirement, even leaving aside
the inevitable uncertainties arising from lack of writing. Nevertheless, section 116
appears to settle the question for the future, in favour of proprietary status.
A final point is that once the court has ordered a property right as a remedy, it is easy
to accept that there is a proprietary right. If the court orders a life interest, we can readily
say that there is an equitable life interest.
Non-proprietary expectations and remedies

The above reasoning is most readily applied where the underlying expectation and
eventual remedy are both of a proprietary nature: fees simple and easements are good
examples. However, it is much more difficult if the expectation is not proprietary. The
most common example is an expectation of a licence (a permission to enter or remain
on land). We will see that licences, when created by contract, do not bind purchasers.
Similarly, a non-proprietary remedy will also cause problems. The best example is where
(as in several recent cases) the courts give a monetary remedy. In the example of Brenda’s
central heating installation, the courts might well decide that Brenda should receive
£3,000 compensation. If the land were to be sold before the court orders this remedy,
would a purchaser be bound to pay the £3,000?
These questions have caused considerable difficulty: they form the context in which the
proprietary status of estoppels is most controversial. They are fully discussed in Chapter 15,
alongside other principles applying to licences. The orthodox (but not unchallenged)
view is that it is the estoppel that binds purchasers, rather than an equitable right to a
proprietary interest. If this is correct, it provides another reason for doubting whether
78
estoppels deserve proprietary status. Not only is the remedy uncertain, but it is also
exceptional for remedies to be proprietary interests.
● Benefit and burden

This principle is similar to estoppel, but it applies unconscionability ideas in a slightly
different manner. Its essence is that a person cannot insist on taking the benefit of an
agreement without accepting the corresponding burden arising from it. The principle is
best illustrated by taking two cases as examples.
In ER Ives Investment Ltd v High,9 foundations of a block of flats were mistakenly
placed on High’s land. This was soon realised and it was agreed that the foundations
could remain there. Because this restricted access to High’s house, he was given a right
of way across the back of the flats. Unfortunately, there was no formal grant of an ease-
8
ment. After the flats had been sold, the purchaser sought to prevent the right of way.
The Court of Appeal held that the purchaser had to accept the right of way if it wished
Estoppel
the flats to remain on High’s land. They could not both assert the benefit of the deal
(foundations) and reject the burden (right of way).
Benefit and burden is not the same as estoppel. Although it can affect purchasers (as
in Ives), this is by virtue of the purchaser’s conduct in enforcing the agreement rather than
because High had an interest in land. It appears to follow that the benefit and burden
principle operates without any need for registration (in registration language, it can be seen
as a personal obligation). In addition, it operates only as long as the benefit is asserted.
The purchaser could tear the flats down and then deny the right of way. Needless to say,
that is unlikely.
The second case is Halsall v Brizell,10 which involved a large housing development.
The developer was to maintain facilities such as roads and sewers and the first purchasers
agreed to contribute to the cost. The contribution obligation (a positive covenant) is not
a proprietary right and so could not bind later purchasers. A later purchaser of a house
refused to pay. Upjohn J held that as long as he wished to use these facilities (roads,
sewers), he had to pay. Obviously, the purchaser had no choice but to use these central
facilities if the house was to be used.
The benefit and burden principle appeared to have a very high potential for enforcing
obligations which would not normally bind a purchaser. These obligations might be non-
proprietary (as in Halsall) or informal and unregistered (as in Ives). Suppose Rosalind sells
a house to Sally, who promises to repair it. Sally later sells the house to Tony, who fails to
repair. As in Halsall, the duty to repair is a positive obligation, not binding on purchasers.
Could Rosalind say that Tony cannot rely on the transfer to show ownership while
denying the duty to repair? Such a proposition was rejected in Rhone v Stephens.11 There
has to be some clear reciprocity as between the benefit and burden; furthermore, the
purchaser has to exercise a choice in taking the benefit (not that there was much of
a choice in either Ives or Halsall).
9
[1967] 2 QB 379.
10
[1957] Ch 169.
11
[1994] 2 AC 310 at p. 322.
79
The facts of Rhone were unusual. The roof of a house also covered a cottage, the roof
being supported by the cottage. The owner of both house and cottage sold the cottage,
promising to repair the roof. It was held that a later purchaser of the house was not
bound by that promise: there was insufficient reciprocity between the repairing obliga-
tion and the benefit of support for the roof.
It may be concluded that benefit and burden is a useful principle. It can apply when
the facts do not readily fit other categories, such as easements or estoppel. However,
it now seems to be limited to cases where each party is given directly reciprocal con-
tinuing benefits and burdens. Those cases will be relatively few.

● Enforcing promises
It has already been seen that proprietary estoppel can be used to enforce promises. In
this respect, it achieves far more than promissory estoppel achieves in non-land represen-
tations. Indeed, it seems to elevate proprietary estoppel to a role quite similar to contract
– both are routes to acquiring equitable interests in land.
Here, we will look at the general role of promises (especially promises to leave prop-
erty on death) and the particular role of estoppel in sale negotiations. These areas were
considered in some detail in two very recent House of Lords cases: Cobbe v Yeoman’s Row
Management Ltd 12 and Thorner v Major.13 These cases will be considered towards the
end of this section.
Not every promise in relation to land will attract proprietary estoppel. Suppose that
Fred agrees to sell his house to Gary for £180,000, but no formal written contract is
entered into. Each assures the other that they can rely on the transaction going ahead.
Relying on this, Fred rejects an offer from Harry of £220,000 (well above market value,
as Harry has a particular need for the house). Gary, who lives 60 miles away, gives up his
present job in the expectation of buying Fred’s house and finding a new job much closer
to that house.
Can either Gary or Fred use estoppel should the other try to get out of the agreement?
The use of estoppel in the contract for sale context is considered in more detail below,
but it seems possible that Gary would be able to assert an estoppel should Fred change
his mind and refuse to sell – Gary would be asserting that he has a right to buy the house
as they had agreed. But would Fred be able to use estoppel against Gary, if it were Gary
who changed his mind and refused to buy? In this context, Fred is not claiming any right
to land (he wants to sell it) and it is difficult to see how his claim could be articulated in
terms of proprietary estoppel.
It is not easy to justify giving a remedy to Gary but not to Fred (though Gary will of
course have to pay the £180,000 if he wishes to buy). This raises the difficult question
12
[2008] 1 WLR 1752.
13
[2009] 1 WLR 776.
80
whether proprietary estoppel is so different from other situations in which promises are
made to persons who act to their detriment. However, this raises controversial questions
about the use of estoppel as a sword (enforcing obligations), which are well outside the
scope of this book!
Promises to leave property on death

A recurrent theme in recent cases is that one person (C) undertakes work or care for the
landowner, O. O is sufficiently grateful that he promises to leave property to C in his will. The
services performed by C are extensive and more than can be expected of an employee
or friend. Things go wrong because either O dies without having changed his will or O
and C quarrel.
The early leading case of this type is Gillett v Holt.14 Gillett worked on Holt’s land
for 40 years. They were very close and Gillett was treated as a member of the family; he 8
was paid less than his work merited and devoted himself entirely to advancing Holt’s
Estoppel
interests. The combination of these facts was enough to show detriment. There were
several occasions (commencing 12 years after Gillett started work) on which Holt assured
Gillett that he would inherit under his will.
Perhaps the major problem with this type of case is that wills are inherently revocable:
people are free to decide who to leave their property to and frequently change their
minds as the years go by. Accordingly, it is unsafe to count one’s chickens simply because
one has been named as a beneficiary under a will. Holt used these factors to assert
that Gillett could not rely upon inheriting under the will. However, the Court of Appeal
showed little hesitation in holding that Holt had made very clear assurances that Gillett
would inherit. Simply being told about a person’s plans for their will might well fall far
short of an estoppel, but the facts involved clear and repeated assurances in front of
witnesses. It was far more than a statement of present intention.
Another well-known case is Jennings v Rice,15 which is studied later in the context of
remedies. Jennings (who had a full-time job) started working as a part-time gardener for
Mrs Royal, then aged 66, in 1970. As she grew older, he undertook more tasks to help
her. In the 1980s she stopped paying him, but made a number of assurances to him
about inheriting the house and, more generally, ‘being alright’. His help increased as
she became more frail and, for four years until she died in 1997, he slept at her house to
provide more security. Though their agreement was too uncertain for a contract, this
was no obstacle to the court’s finding that estoppel applied; we will see later that he was
awarded £200,000. It is another example of how estoppel provides a wider role than
merely getting around failure to comply with formality rules.
Sale negotiations
Estoppel has been used by purchasers to try to get around two quite separate problems.
The first is where there has been no final agreement (or any agreement is subject to
contract and so, as seen in Chapter 7, unenforceable). The second is that section 2 of the
14
[2001] Ch 210.
15
[2003] 1 P&CR 100.
81
Law of Property (Miscellaneous Provisions) Act 1989 renders contracts for sale void unless
they are in writing.
Subject to contract agreements

The courts are usually sceptical of estoppel being used where there is a ‘subject to con-
tract’ arrangement. Most people dealing with land understand that making an arrange-
ment subject to contract means that there is no binding obligation. This is illustrated by
the Privy Council decision in Att-Gen of Hong Kong v Humphreys Estate (Queen’s Gardens)
Ltd.16 Following a subject to contract agreement to exchange properties, the Hong Kong
government was allowed to take possession of 83 flats. The government incurred detri-
ment in spending money on the flats and disposing of other properties that were being
replaced. The owner of the flats then pulled out of the deal and reclaimed the property.
The Privy Council reasoned that the government knew what it was doing and was,
essentially, gambling on the deal going through. Although the owner had acted so as
to indicate that the transaction would go through, nothing had been said or done to
indicate that it had passed beyond its subject to contract status or that the owner had
abandoned the right to pull out of the transaction. The result may be regarded as tough
on the government, but it may be justified as producing certainty when the phrase
‘subject to contract’ is used.
No final agreement
This was the issue in Cobbe, which is discussed below.
Agreements void for lack of writing

We have seen that section 2 of the 1989 Act requires agreements for the sale of land to
be in writing. Can this requirement be avoided by estoppel, based on the purchaser
incurring detrimental reliance? A background point is that before 1989, a person who
partly performed a contract would be able to enforce it; part performance was quite
easily proved. The 1989 Act abolished part performance. This causes an initial hesitation
as to whether the somewhat similar estoppel principle can be applied.
The Law Commission, in its report leading to the 1989 Act, made it clear that estoppel
can still be argued in appropriate cases. However, the Act makes no reference to estop-
pel, though section 2(5) expressly states that constructive trusts survive the legislation.
The issue was fully discussed for the first time by the Court of Appeal in Yaxley v Gotts.17
The buyer orally agreed to purchase the ground floor of a building being converted into
flats. The consideration was that the buyer (a builder) would undertake building work on
the other floors. A large amount of work was done on all the floors, whereupon the seller
pulled out of the deal. It looks like a classic estoppel scenario. However, the Court of
Appeal was much vexed by the question of whether recognition of estoppel was con-
sistent with the 1989 Act and the policy underpinning it. The judgments are difficult to
assess because they stress that estoppel and constructive trusts overlap in their operation
(as discussed in Chapter 9). One approach which emerges is that estoppel can be relied
16
[1987] AC 114.
17
[2000] Ch 162.
82
upon if the circumstances would also give rise to a constructive trust. It is unclear whether
proprietary estoppel can be relied upon independently, though this is supported by
Beldam LJ.
Subsequent cases have done little to clarify the question. Most cases seem content
simply to rely on estoppel. However, Kinane v Mackie-Conteh18 appears to accept estoppel
only when a constructive trust can be found. The facts involved an oral agreement for a
mortgage, following which the lender had lent £50,000. This was held to give rise to an
estoppel and constructive trust. This is interesting, as money will have been lent in
virtually every case on oral agreements for mortgages. It seems that section 2 of the 1989
Act will have little if any effect in such litigation.
Assuming estoppel can apply in the section 2 context, what circumstances will justify
a claim? Virtually every purchaser will incur some detriment, whether it be expenditure
on legal fees and surveys or the sale of their existing homes. The courts are alert to the 8
danger of section 2 being circumvented too readily. For example, in Kinane,19 Neuberger
Estoppel
LJ stated that the law must ‘avoid regarding [section 2(5)] as an automatically available
escape route from the rigours of section 2(1)’. It seems inevitable that a purchaser who
can prove no more than some detriment, as mentioned above, will fail. There needs to be
some assurance that, despite the absence of writing, an obligation is being undertaken.
Challenge in the House of Lords

There having been no House of Lords decision directly on proprietary estoppel for many
decades, we now have two decisions within a year: Cobbe v Yeoman’s Row Management
Ltd 20 and Thorner v Major.21 Though fundamental issues were raised, it may be said at
the outset that the outcome involves relatively few changes to the law as described above.
The context of Cobbe is that of sale negotiations where no final agreement has been
reached. There was an agreement whereby Cobbe would obtain planning permission
and then purchase the land. The price was calculated so that about half the uplift in the
value, resulting from planning permission, would go to Cobbe. Cobbe then incurred sub-
stantial costs in time and money (valued between £100,000 and £200,000) in obtaining
planning permission. At that point, the owner refused to proceed with the sale. The
agreement was insufficiently certain and final to be a contract; in any event, it was not
in writing.
The House of Lords held that estoppel was not proved on these facts, though a remedy
allowing recompense for the value of Cobbe’s services was allowed (not based on estop-
pel). The leading judgment was that of Lord Scott, who asked what right Cobbe thought
he had. Given that he was well aware that there was no contract, he could scarcely claim
that he thought he had a contractual right to the land. In truth, he had acted in the hope
that the arrangement would go through. This is very similar to the subject to contract
case of Att-Gen of Hong Kong. In these circumstances, there was no basis for finding an
18
[2005] WTLR 345; see Arden LJ at [25]–[26] and (more explicitly) Neuberger LJ at [41]–[51].
19
[2005] WTLR 345 at [40].
20
[2008] 1 WLR 1752; McFarlane and Robinson [2008] LMCLQ 449.
21
[2009] 1 WLR 776.
83
estoppel. The major difficulty with this analysis is that this might be thought to bar a
remedy whenever the representation takes the form of a promise – it will be rare for C to
be able to claim that it was believed that a right existed. This problem most obviously
applies to promises to leave property by will. It could represent a massive contraction in
the scope of proprietary estoppel, though there is little recognition of such an effect
in Cobbe.
It is unsurprising that this led to further litigation. The facts of Thorner are similar to
those of Gillett: C worked on O’s farm (O and C were cousins in Thorner), O giving C
to understand that the farm would belong to C on O’s death. The House of Lords had
no hesitation in denying any ‘apocalyptic’ effect of Cobbe. It is plain that this leaves cases
such as Gillett and Jennings intact. The real question in Thorner was whether there was
a sufficient assurance on the part of C. This is essentially a factual issue, decided by Lord
Walker on the basis that it was ‘clear enough’.
How is Cobbe to be explained? Building on ideas of Lord Walker in Cobbe, Thorner
stresses that different inferences can be drawn in family cases (or ones involving friends)
as opposed to those involving businessmen. Whilst a businessman is readily seen to be
taking a gamble in spending money in the hope that an arrangement will be imple-
mented, those less used to business will not think in terms of legal categories and legal
obligations. The facts of the two cases, of course, demonstrate the contrast. It is not that
there is a different rule applying to businessmen (or to expectations of contracts). Rather,
the courts are sensitive to the danger of drawing the same inferences from different types
of circumstances. Thus we can still justify the estoppel in Crabb, which was in a business
setting. Even though there was known to be no contract, the act of O in erecting gates
for the right of way signified that they were committing themselves. Another way of
looking at it is that businessmen invariably deal with precise legal categories such as
contracts. In a family setting, it is common for a promise of a gift to be made. This would
be completely foreign to a business transaction.
A few other aspects of these cases should be considered. In Cobbe, Lord Scott stressed
the need for certainty as to what was promised. In Thorner, this was somewhat played
down. It did not matter that bits of the farm might be sold off, so that the extent of the
farm was left uncertain. However, in other contexts certainty may be more problematic.
Thus Lord Walker in Thorner expresses some hesitation about Re Basham.22 In that case
the promise related to all the property of the deceased, not just a specific plot of land.
On the other hand, failure to identify with certainty the type of right to be obtained by
C, or the terms on which it would be obtained, was thought by Lord Walker not to cause
problems (echoing views expressed in Jennings).
Turning to contracts which fail the writing requirements, this was a relatively minor
element of Cobbe. However, Lord Scott thought that, by virtue of the terms of the 1989
Act, estoppel should not be used in such cases. This issue is not addressed by Thorner.
Subsequent first instance cases have differed as to whether this really spells the end for
estoppel arguments. However, the availability of constructive trust arguments renders the
debate of limited importance.
22
[1986] 1 WLR 1498.
84
● Remedies
In this section we consider the principles upon which remedies are granted. In most of
the earlier cases, the courts simply gave effect to the expectation involved: a represent-
ation of the fee simple gave a right to the fee simple. That must now be seen as too
simplistic.
One uncontroversial point is that it will sometimes be impossible to give effect to the
expectation. A good example is where the claimant is sharing a house with another
person under an expectation of being able to stay there. Relationships may break down
so that this becomes impossible. One extreme example is provided by Baker v Baker &
Baker.23 O accused C (his father) of molesting his children. The accusation was shown to
be unjustified, but the damage to the relationship made it impossible for them ever to
live in the same house again. This does not mean that no remedy is available; in Baker, 8
a monetary payment was ordered.
Modern analyses are based on dicta of Scarman LJ in Crabb v Arun District Council.24
Estoppel
Although it was not very material to the outcome of that case, he asserted that the
remedy should be based on ‘the minimum equity to do justice’. This moves the stress
away from the expectation. This was illustrated by the reasoning in the well-known case
of Pascoe v Turner.25 On the breakdown of an affair (lasting over 10 years) in 1973,
Pascoe told Turner that a house was hers. She spent a quarter of her capital on the house,
though the expenditure was only £230. Nothing was in writing and subsequently Pascoe
denied that Turner had any right to the house. The court ordered the transfer of the fee
simple (as had been promised), but this was only after much thought. The value of the
fee simple far outweighed the detriment and the court was initially inclined to award
some form of life interest to Turner. The fee simple was decided on only because she had
expended a significant part of her capital and the history of Pascoe’s ‘ruthlessness’
showed that she might be at risk if awarded anything less than the fee simple. The im-
portant point for us is that the court did not think that it should automatically give effect
to the expectation.
The leading modern case is Jennings v Rice.26 We have already seen that the claimant
undertook care services for an elderly woman in the closing years of her life. The trial
judge awarded £200,000 in circumstances where the house and furniture (what had
been promised) were worth £435,000; £200,000 was chosen because it was the value of
the claimant’s work, coupled with the fact that £150,000 would purchase an adequate
house.
What makes Jennings important is that, for the first time, the court discussed in some
detail the principles upon which remedies are given. It was accepted that it is far too
simplistic to say that effect is given to expectations. On the other hand, any idea that the
court has an unfettered (‘palm tree’) discretion was rejected. Aldous LJ stressed the need
for proportionality and concluded that this provided a good basis for justifying an award
23
(1993) 25 HLR 408.
24
[1976] Ch 179 at p. 198, discussed at p. 74, above.
25
[1979] 1 WLR 431.
26
[2003] 1 P&CR 100; p. 81, above.
85
of £200,000. Robert Walker LJ drew a distinction between two types of case. In the first,
there is a clear agreement between the parties as to the terms involved. This will often
be the case where estoppel is being used to get around the absence of formalities, espe-
cially in a commercial setting (though such cases may be less common after Cobbe). In
these cases, the courts will normally award what has been promised. In the second type
of case, the promise is unclear. Jennings is an example, as the old lady said the claimant
would be ‘alright’. In that type of case, the court has more of a discretion to decide what
remedy is appropriate and will take the detriment into account.
A case can certainly be made for saying that both expectation and detriment are use-
ful factors. In favour of expectation is the point that it is what the parties agreed. It can
also be a lot easier to assess than the detriment. Suppose that in Jennings the house had
been worth, say, £225,000. It would be much easier to award the house than trying to
enter into a precise valuation of the services provided over many years. In many commercial
settings the parties will have reached agreement, and then it makes sense to go along
with that. Family settings are more likely to throw up cases of lack of proportionality simply
because promises of gifts are common: businessmen do not normally promise gifts!
Detriment also has its merits as a factor. It is only when detriment is proved that the
equity arises. How can it be equitable to give effect to a generous promise when there is
a small amount of detriment? In Sledmore v Dalby,27 C had lived on O’s land rent-free for
18 years as O’s son-in-law (O’s daughter died seven years before the dispute). C spent
money on the basis of a promise (made 14 years before the dispute) that he could remain
on the land. The Court of Appeal considered that whatever equity had arisen from the
expenditure (around £1,000 – quite a large sum in the 1970s) had been satisfied by
the benefit of living on the land. It was a case in which the original detriment no longer
justified any remedy.
The language of proportionality recognises that detriment is a significant factor. At a
more theoretical level, it helps to distinguish the roles of contract and estoppel. Contract
remedies give effect to expectations. If estoppel were to do the same, it might be seen
as an improper circumvention of contract rules, especially regarding consideration. If issues
of detriment and proportionality are to the fore in estoppel, this gives it a different and
more justifiable role.
It is not clear that the distinction drawn by Robert Walker LJ (relating to the clarity
of the agreement) is as clear-cut as it seems. One could well imagine facts similar to
Jennings in which the old lady is explicit that the house will be given in return for a con-
tinuation of care services. The promise is no longer uncertain. Would this mean that the
claimant would receive the house, assuming the figures are the same as in Jennings? It
seems likely that Robert Walker LJ would treat this as a disproportionate benefit, which
should not be allowed. If the old lady unexpectedly died very soon after the promise, the
detriment would be minimal and the benefit huge. This leaves open the question as to
when an expectation will be regarded as disproportionate. The test was satisfied in
Jennings when the expectation was worth double the detriment – quite a tough applica-
tion of the test.
27
(1996) 72 P&CR 196.
86
We have seen that in Cobbe v Yeoman’s Row Management Ltd 28 the House of Lords
held that there was no estoppel. The lower courts had held otherwise and it remains
instructive to observe what the Court of Appeal said about the remedy. Unlike Pascoe,
Jennings and Sledmore, Cobbe arose in a commercial setting. Cobbe undertook work
valued at £100,000 to £200,000 in obtaining planning permission. The terms of the
arrangement were such that Cobbe would buy the land and develop it. In broad terms,
half the expected profits would go to Cobbe. It was no longer feasible for Cobbe to buy
the land, so the trial judge awarded Cobbe half the increase in the value of the property
attributable to the planning permission. This was subsequently agreed to be £2m.
In the Court of Appeal it was argued that this was disproportionate: it was at least 10
times the detriment! The tension between expectation and reliance is laid bare by Dyson
LJ: ‘The difficulty with this area of law is that the two approaches are fundamentally
different.’ No wonder, then, that we have difficulty in weaving the two together in 8
attempting to work out the effect of Jennings. Perhaps surprisingly, the Court of Appeal
Estoppel
upheld the award. A particular feature is that simply recompensing the detriment would
leave the owner with a huge profit as a result of Cobbe’s work. It seems likely that the
House of Lords would have come to a different conclusion. When they considered the
non-estoppel remedy of unjust enrichment, it was stressed that Cobbe simply unlocked
the development potential of the land. It was not appropriate to view the profit as an
enrichment from Cobbe’s work.
The remedy in Cobbe (whether or not justified) illustrates how the courts generally
opt for either detriment or expectation, rarely anything in between. It also exemplifies
an instinct in favour of giving effect to expectations; this might be a guide to future
developments.
● Conclusions
Unlike most land law principles, estoppel as it applies today is quite modern. Much of it
dates from its rediscovery half a century ago. That many of the rules are still being devel-
oped is one reason why it displays less certainty than other areas of land law. The stress
on unconscionability means that it cannot be tied down in any precise way, despite Lord
Scott’s attempt to do so in Cobbe. Indeed, it is designed to operate in contexts where
strict property rules (especially as regards formalities) produce unacceptably unfair results.
Nevertheless, after Thorner the general principles as to when an estoppel will exist are
tolerably clear. More difficult is the question of whether it is justified to have relatively
generous and flexible rules operating for proprietary estoppel but not for other kinds
of estoppel in other (more contractual) contexts. However, that tension has not led to
serious questions or doubts as to proprietary estoppel, so these issues lie outside land law.
The remedy has given rise to substantial problems. The two basic approaches –
satisfying expectations and recognising detriment – are fundamentally inconsistent, most
clearly recognised by Dyson LJ in Cobbe. At the same time, it is clear that the courts exercise
no palm-tree discretion: the remedy has to be fashioned applying legal principles. We
28
[2008] 1 WLR 1752, reversing [2006] 1 WLR 2964.
87
appear to be moving towards a position whereby giving effect to expectations is the

standard approach, at least where those expectations have been clearly articulated as
part of an arrangement between the parties. On the other hand, this will quite often be
disproportionately generous to the claimant relative to the detriment (most likely in the
family setting, where an element of gift is involved). In such cases, we appear to switch
to an analysis that places stress on the detriment as a measure of what should be
awarded as a monetary remedy. It is difficult to avoid the conclusion that the courts have
not sorted out exactly what estoppel is seeking to achieve. It is too facile to say that the
courts are attempting to produce an equitable outcome: that begs the question as to
what we regard as an equitable result.

88
9 Ownership of the
family home

henever a couple (married or unmarried, with or without children) have a family
W home, questions may arise as to who owns it. Sometimes this may be settled by
express written agreement between them, but often this does not happen. One of the
parties may have taken the lead when the property was bought and had it put into his
or her name. This is especially common where only that person is working. Alternatively,
the house may have been owned by one of them before their relationship started. This
is particularly common when it was owned in an earlier (failed) relationship.
Why should the non-legal owner have a claim? The answer will vary from case to case.
They may have contributed part of the cost, paid some of the mortgage instalments, paid
other household expenditure or borne responsibility for looking after the home and
children. These activities may have carried on for a few months or several decades.
Although the discussion in this chapter concentrates on couples, most of the prin-
ciples apply more generally. A quite common scenario is where a house is bought for
parents and placed in the names of the parents or children. The other party may have
contributed to the purchase and claim a share.
The financial significance of the home among the family assets makes this a very import-
ant area. It applies to the most important asset of hundreds of thousands of families.
Unsurprisingly, it has given rise to much litigation. Recently, the House of Lords has
considered the area in Stack v Dowden.1 Though some issues have been clarified, the
outcome in many situations remains uncertain.
When does ownership become important? The most obvious answer is that the rela-
tionship between the couple may break down and they disagree as to who is entitled to
what. A less obvious answer is that a third party may acquire an interest in the home.
Suppose Jane owns a house, burdened with quite a large mortgage. She meets Ken, who
moves in with her. Soon after, she becomes pregnant and gives up work to look after the
baby. Two other babies follow and she stays at home with them for the next eight years.
As Jane now has no significant income, Ken pays all the mortgage instalments. While she
1
[2007] 2 AC 432.
89
is at home, Jane succumbs to a gambling habit and borrows £50,000 from Limitless
Bank, secured by a mortgage. Ken is quite unaware of this and Jane hides his existence
from the bank. When the bank attempts to enforce its mortgage, a crucial question will
be whether Ken has a share in the house binding the bank. On the facts, Ken’s contribu-
tion is likely to lead to his having a share, which will bind the bank, preventing it from
getting possession and selling the house. In this example, it does not matter that Jane
and Ken are still (perhaps against the odds!) happily living together.
Where the parties are married, there has been since the early 1970s a statutory power 2
for the court to redistribute assets when the marriage breaks down. This means that it is
unnecessary to work out the ownership of the home. It follows that ownership issues arise
most frequently as regards unmarried couples, for whom there are as yet no equivalent
statutory powers. However, the example involving Jane, Ken and the bank would arise
even if they were married. The question there was as to who owned the house at the
date of the mortgage. A court can adjust rights as between Jane and Ken, but it cannot
do this retrospectively so as to affect third parties such as Limitless Bank.
Much of this chapter is devoted to discussing when the contributions of persons such
as Ken give rise to shared ownership. The courts initially relied on resulting trusts, but
more recent cases have employed constructive trusts. Two general observations may now
be made. The first is that trusts, a tool of financial management, seem ill-suited to the
family-based problems under dispute. The courts may have had no other tool available,
but it is scarcely surprising that the results have been widely condemned. The second is
that the trust gives a proprietary right to persons such as Ken. The uncertainties of the
present law are particularly unwelcome because land law seeks to provide certainty for
those dealing with the land. We might accept uncertainty as between Jane and Ken, but
it becomes less acceptable when the bank is involved. Indeed the law is widely thought
to produce neither fair results for the parties nor certainty.
The main topics considered in this chapter include the operation of express written
agreements, transfer into joint names at law, transfer into the name of one of the parties
and the remedy that will be awarded. Finally, we consider the links between these prin-
ciples and proprietary estoppel; it was observed in Chapter 8 that the two areas substan-
tially overlap. Nearly all the material under discussion has arisen over the past 40 years
and it would be easy to describe the entire chapter as a critical and controversial issue!
Three particular topics are considered under that heading: the impact of Stack v Dowden
on single name transfers, reform proposals and the estoppel comparison.

● Express declarations of trust
It will be seen in Chapter 12 that co-ownership always involves a trust of land. This
means that a couple who want co-ownership should execute a declaration of trust.
Nearly always, this will be in the transfer document and thereby satisfy the need for writing.
2
Matrimonial Causes Act 1973, s 24.
90
Let us consider two possibilities. In each of them, Charlotte starts with a half-share in
a house, following a failed marriage. Her new partner, Dave, joins Charlotte in buying out
her former husband’s share; they fund this equally. Some years later, their relationship breaks
down. In the first possibility, the legal title is transferred to Charlotte. In the second, it is
transferred to Charlotte and Dave expressly on trust for them equally.
In the first possibility, there will be a trust under principles discussed in later sections.
It is quite likely that the beneficial interests will reflect their contributions: Charlotte will
have a three-quarters share (her original half, plus half the husband’s share) and Dave a
one-quarter share. That looks fair.
The second possibility mirrors the facts in Goodman v Gallant.3 After a thorough
review of the cases, the Court of Appeal concluded that the declaration of trust in the
conveyance was conclusive: the parties each had a half-share. This result has the great
merit of providing certainty and reducing litigation: everybody can rely on the words of 9
the conveyance. Yet it may be seen as not entirely fair on Charlotte, who provided three-
Ownership of the family home

quarters of the money. That, however, is to take an unduly money-based approach. If
Charlotte has formally declared that she wishes Dave to have a half-share, why should
she not be held to that? One danger is that the lawyers may have failed fully to explain
to Charlotte what she was agreeing to. Few people carefully read and understand all the
documents they sign.
The result in Goodman has never been seriously challenged, though it can be
sidestepped in limited circumstances. In particular, it can be avoided if there is a mis-
representation or mistake such that the conveyance does not represent the parties’ true
intentions. Suppose that Dave is contributing nothing, but that a lender tells Charlotte
that the loan depends on there being a joint transfer to them, with a joint mortgage to
the lender. The understanding between Charlotte and Dave is that the house is to belong
to Charlotte alone; Dave’s name is included solely to satisfy the lender. Any declaration
of trust in such circumstances is plainly a mistake and the conveyance can be rectified,
removing Dave’s beneficial half-share.
● Transfer into joint names

Suppose that, in the example concerning Charlotte and Dave, the transfer is into their
joint names, without any mention of beneficial interests. The statutory forms require
modern transfers to state the nature of the beneficial rights in the transfer. Though this
may not always be complied with, it means that problems should arise infrequently in
registered land.
However, such a problem did arise in Stack v Dowden, in which the home had been
bought before the transfer forms required beneficial interests to be specified. Traditional
thinking was that a transfer into joint names gives rise to a resulting trust reflecting con-
tributions. However, the House of Lords (Lord Neuberger disagreeing) held that, where
a family home is involved, the presumption should be of equal beneficial interests. This
was felt best to match the intentions of the parties, who are unlikely to be thinking in
3
[1986] Fam 106.
91
terms of financial calculations when a joint names transfer is used. This is supported by
the widespread use of a joint tenancy when beneficial interests are expressly declared.
However, it is possible to reverse this presumption by showing a common intention
that the shares should be unequal. Though this was said to require very unusual circum-
stances, such a common intention was found on the facts in Stack. This was based on
the almost total separation of the finances of the parties (other than the house), despite
their living together for more than 20 years. On that basis a 65:35 split was upheld,
reflecting their contributions. Critics have observed that such separation of finances is by
no means rare, so the ‘very unusual’ case may be quite common.
Subsequently, the Court of Appeal in Fowler v Barron4 has shown that joint ownership
will apply even if one person has paid all the cost of the house: far more extreme circum-
stances than in Stack. The court stressed that the separation of finances in Stack was
lacking, so that the presumption of equal shares was to be applied. One problem in find-
ing unequal shares in Fowler was in justifying any figure when one person has paid all:
nobody argued that zero was appropriate.
● Transfer into a single name

This is the context of the great majority of the cases. As will be seen in ‘Critical and con-
troversial issues’, Stack almost certainly liberalises the law in this area. Unfortunately, the
extent of this is by no means clear – it remains necessary to consider the older ideas.
Background and early developments

The family homes cases originated in resulting trusts. Let us return to the Charlotte and
Dave example. If they contribute in cash to the purchase of the husband’s share, this can
be seen as a classic form of resulting trust. Almost always, however, couples buy land with
a large mortgage loan. Cash will constitute a fairly small proportion of the cost, at least
for first-time buyers. What happens if Dave helps to pay the mortgage instalments? A very
strict analysis might say that Charlotte has raised the purchase money on mortgage and
has paid the entire cost: Dave gets nothing. That has always been seen as far too strict.
As soon as we recognise mortgage instalments as contributions, problems abound.
Do we credit Dave with just the capital component of each instalment (usually very small,
if anything at all)? What if Dave pays for the housekeeping so that Charlotte can afford
the mortgage instalments? Our example is unusual in that it is the woman who is the
major contributor. In most cases it is the man who has the legal title and the woman
who is claiming a share. Frequently, she earns less than he does, especially if looking after
children. An approach that stresses financial contributions is bound to favour men
over women, given typical roles in families.
At one stage, it appeared that the courts might be developing a concept of family
assets, sharing assets between the parties. That development was halted by the House of
Lords in Pettitt v Pettitt.5 A bare majority held that the cases had to be determined by
4
[2009] 2 FLR 831.
5
[1970] AC 777.
92
conventional trusts concepts. There is no special family assets analysis, nor any judicial
discretion. Pettitt is essentially backwards-looking: it rejects ideas put forward over the
previous ten years.
It might be observed that a family assets approach is more difficult to contemplate
today. Pettitt predated the statutory discretion for husband and wife and nearly all the
early cases involved spouses. It seemed reasonable that husband and wife might share
assets. Nearly four decades later, the cases involve very varied relationships. It is less easy
to justify a blanket equal-sharing approach.
Gissing v Gissing
Soon after Pettitt, the House of Lords in Gissing6 clarified the effect of their earlier deci-
sion and established principles to be applied in future cases. Its facts involved indirect
contributions and will be considered below in that context. 9
The essence of the Gissing approach, still applied today, is that we look for a common
intention. As everybody appreciates, couples buying their first home together rarely

thrash out the details of their rights in detailed discussions regarding their shares. If they
do, then it is likely that the conveyance will contain an appropriate declaration of trust.
The courts will readily imply a common intention from their contributions to the
purchase and to the mortgage. Many commentators have observed that this common
intention is largely fictitious. It may indeed be appropriate for the law to recognise con-
tributions, but common intention provides an insecure intellectual base. We will see that
it has been widely criticised.
Alternatively, the courts may find that the parties have actually agreed what their
shares should be: the express common intention. This cannot be effective without writing.
However, if a party acts to their detriment on the basis of the common intention, then it
would be unconscionable for the legal owner to deny an appropriate share. It might be
added that an implied common intention also requires some detriment. However, that is
invariably provided by the contribution itself.
There has been much discussion whether the cases should be explained as based upon
resulting trusts or constructive trusts. The resulting trust applies readily to capital con-
tributions, but is very difficult to apply to express common intentions. More generally,
the resulting trust is prone to produce arithmetical solutions and is difficult to fit in with
non-financial contributions. In Stack, the House of Lords was clear that, for both joint
names and single names transfers, the constructive trust provides the most appropriate
analysis so far as the family home is concerned.
Contributions and implied common intentions

Direct financial contributions
A capital contribution to the purchase of a home virtually always counts. In theory, it
could be a gift to the legal owner, but that conclusion is rarely reached. In Midland Bank
plc v Cooke,7 the husband’s parents gave a wedding present of a 13 per cent contribu-
tion to the cost of buying a house. It was found to be a gift to both husband and wife.
6
[1971] AC 886.
7
[1995] 4 All ER 562; Abbott v Abbott [2008] 1 FLR 1451 (PC) involved similar facts.
93
On that basis, the wife was able to claim a 6.5 per cent contribution to the purchase of
the house (her only financial contribution). As we see later, the Court of Appeal went on
to award her a half-share because they had agreed ‘to share everything equally’. It is an
irony that her half-share was based on her husband’s parents’ present.
Contributions to mortgage instalments also readily justify finding an implied common
intention. However, this is not automatic: there has to be some consistency in the making
of payments. It follows that contributing one or two instalments (perhaps for some short-
term reason, such as the legal owner’s illness) is very unlikely to count. In Gissing, the test
employed by Lord Diplock was whether the contributions were ‘regular and substantial’.
There is likely to be contribution when the couple maintain a joint bank account and
the mortgage payments are made out of the account. The courts are likely to reason that
the money in the account is jointly owned and that this results in contribution by both.
In addition, the decision to have a joint account helps to prove a sharing of assets, and
thereby a common intention. These factors were significant in the recent Privy Council
decision in Abbott v Abbott 8 to uphold an order for equal beneficial ownership. The posi-
tion where there is a joint account but the legal owner is the only person paying money
into it does not appear to have been settled.
Indirect financial contributions

What is meant by an indirect financial contribution? It is best illustrated by an example.
Marion and Neill set up home together. Neill has savings of £50,000, which he puts into
buying a house. He borrows £150,000 on mortgage and the house is registered in his
name alone. Marion and Neill each earn (after tax) £1,300 a month. Neill pays the
monthly mortgage instalments, amounting to £900. Marion pays household (food, elec-
tricity, council tax, etc.) and car expenses, averaging £700 a month. They share personal
expenses (including clothes, travelling and holidays). What these figures show is that
Neill could not afford to pay the mortgage without the assistance provided by Marion:
their core expenditure exceeds what Neill earns. The direct payment of mortgage instal-
ments all comes from Neill. However, Marion can be said to make indirect contributions
because her expenditure on the family enables Neill to pay the mortgage.
The wife in Gissing relied on making indirect contributions. She had bought some
household equipment and paid for her clothes. Lord Diplock (whose speech has been
most influential) thought it would be relevant if the wife’s expenditure changed as a result
of the house purchase and, in particular, made it possible for the husband to pay the
mortgage instalments. However, the facts fell far short of satisfying these requirements.
Gissing might lead us to suppose that Marion would be able to claim a share.
However, doubts began to be expressed in the 1980s and then the House of Lords in
Lloyds Bank plc v Rosset 9 appeared to rule out indirect contributions. Nevertheless, a
deputy judge in Le Foe v Le Foe10 subsequently recognised relatively small indirect con-
tributions. This has been welcomed by commentators and the Law Commission. Rosset
8
[2008] 1 FLR 1451.
9
[1991] 1 AC 107.
10
[2001] 2 FLR 970 (Nicholas Mostyn QC).
94
contained almost no reasoning to justify what was said and failed to reflect the dicta in
Gissing. Leaving authority on one side, one can see the attraction of the argument that
cases should not depend on the largely fortuitous question as to how a couple choose to
divide family expenditure. It enables many more partners playing a full financial role
within a family to share the one significant asset: the family home.
Following Stack v Dowden, it is very likely that indirect contributions will be recog-
nised. Further discussion will follow when Stack is analysed below.
Non-financial contributions
Suppose a couple are living together. When the woman becomes pregnant with their
second child, the man buys a house for them. The woman stays at home looking after the
house and children for the next 12 years. After the relationship breaks down (after 19 years),
does she have any right to the house? These were the facts of Burns v Burns.11 The Court 9
of Appeal found no contribution to the purchase and dismissed the woman’s claim.

Burns represents a very financial approach to contributions. Consider two families, in
both of which there are two young children. Andy and Briony decide that the children
should go to a private nursery and that Briony should continue working. It takes all their
joint income to pay the mortgage instalments, household and high nursery expenses. In
the second family, George and Harriet decide that Harriet should stay at home to look
after the children. As there are no nursery expenses, George can afford mortgage and
household costs. Briony is very likely to have a good claim to a share in the house. Harriet,
by contrast, clearly has no claim. Yet they have both contributed hugely to the family.
It cannot escape attention that it is almost always the mother who stays at home
with the children and who loses out because such domestic activities are not recognised.
More than any other, this area demonstrates the failure of a trusts-based system to cope
with family circumstances. Whether Burns is affected by Stack is unsettled; it will be con-
sidered below.
Express common intentions

As an alternative to implying a common intention from contributions, a court may find
that the parties actually agreed that they should share ownership. Its origins lie in Gissing,
but Rosset highlights it as an independent route towards giving a share to the partner of
the legal owner.
By itself, a common intention is not enough: there has to be some sort of detriment
before the lack of writing can be overcome. It is this which renders the conduct of the
legal owner unconscionable, thereby justifying a constructive trust. Financial contributions,
even if indirect, clearly constitute detriment. It also seems that extensive work on the
premises (going beyond normal day-to-day activities) will be recognised. In Rosset, a
derelict house was being renovated. The wife spent much time supervising the work of
the builders. The House of Lords regarded this as falling far short of what is required
before an express agreement will be enforceable. Though some commentators have
11
[1984] Ch 317.
95
noted that detriment forms no part of the House of Lords analysis in Stack, it seems prob-
able that it is still required.12
When will express intentions be relevant? If the parties explicitly agree to share owner-
ship, they are most likely to put the house into joint names. Most express intentions in
single name transfers will arise implicitly from conversations. In Rosset, the House of Lords
stressed that the couple’s intention to share the home did not suffice: there must be an
intention to share ownership. When a couple refer to ‘our home’, this generally signifies
no more than the house in which they live: the language would be appropriate if it were
merely rented.
In Rosset, Lord Bridge explained two earlier cases as being based on express intentions.
We now look at the first of these, Eves v Eves.13 A young couple purchased a home, the
man telling the woman that it could not be put in joint names because she was under 21.
He later described this as an excuse to ensure that he had sole ownership. On the face
of it, this looks more like an agreement that she should not have a share. However, it is
treated as an agreement that she should have an interest, but that it is not possible for
her to have a legal estate. Unless there was an underlying agreement that she should
have an interest, it would have been wholly unnecessary to discuss legal ownership.
This analysis has been criticised by commentators on the basis that the intention as to
equitable ownership did not really exist. It may be accepted that it is difficult (though not
impossible) to spell out such an intention from conversations which conclude that no
interest is given. Part of the criticism lies in the fact that the man clearly did not intend
her to have an interest, so that there was no common intention. This criticism seems
clearly misguided. Common intention (here, as in contract generally) is assessed on an
objective basis. If the man gave the impression that she was to have a beneficial interest,
then his private unspoken intentions are irrelevant.
After Rosset, the express common intention was pressed into service more often. In
several cases, the courts were forced to dissect half-remembered conversations from
decades earlier. It is difficult to have any confidence that the true intentions of the parties
were being discovered.
The express common intention poses something of a paradox. If the parties have clearly
agreed to share ownership then one’s natural inclination is to give effect to their wishes.
On the other hand, this approach readily descends into the farce of trying to remember
‘the tenderest exchanges of a common law courtship’, as Waite LJ has described it. Now
that Stack heralds a more generous approach to inferring intentions from conduct, it may
be hoped that express intentions will be less relied upon.
Intentions after purchase: improvements

Suppose Sally is a successful solicitor who buys a house for herself, largely funded by a
mortgage. Some years later she meets Terry, who moves in with her. She becomes pregnant
12
Parris v Williams [2009] 1 P&CR 169. The arguments of Gardner (2008) 124 LQR 422 at p. 424 and
Etherton [2008] CLJ 265 at p. 277 were not discussed.
13
[1975] 1 WLR 1338. Grant v Edwards [1986] Ch 638 is similar: property not put in the woman’s name
because of complications arising from her divorce proceedings.
96
and gives up work for the next ten years to look after her young children. During those
ten years, Terry bears all the household expenses, including the mortgage instalments.
Sally obviously starts off as the sole owner. Any common intention can only com-
mence later and will operate to effect a change of ownership. Yet Terry’s contribution
would clearly have given him an interest if they had bought the house as a family home.
The situation is an increasingly common one, as people frequently own houses either as
single persons (like Sally) or from a previous failed relationship.
A number of cases deal with this situation, but they fail to give authoritative and
useful, practical guidance. In Rosset, Lord Bridge said that the common intention might
arise ‘exceptionally at some later date’ (i.e., after purchase) and Stack recognises that it
may change during a relationship. A later express common intention is plainly possible,
but is likely to be difficult to prove. In the absence of conversations when the house was
bought, financial contributions may prove the best argument. Even then, the courts have 9
shown a surprising caution in implying a common intention.

Improvements are considered in this section as they also occur after purchase. Pettitt
held that minor DIY activities do not suffice. On the other hand, paying for significant
improvements will probably give rise to an interest. In Hussey v Palmer,14 a mother
moved in with her daughter’s family. She paid to have her daughter’s house extended
and lived in the new extension. Mother and daughter quarrelled and the mother moved out.
The Court of Appeal held that a trust in the mother’s favour arose in these circumstances.
Finding a trust is thought to be more difficult if the claimant personally carries out the
work. However, there are indications that the claim will succeed if the work is of a type
and extent as would normally be undertaken by a contractor. Again, one can see the
preference for financial contributions. It is worth noting that improvements rarely occur
as the only reason for finding a common intention. If other factors prove a common
intention, then improvements can be taken into account in deciding how large the share
shall be.
● Quantifying the shares

Once a common intention has been found, the further question arises as to what size the
share should be. If there is a written declaration of trust, that will settle the outcome, but
other cases give rise to greater difficulties.
Resulting or constructive trust?

An issue that remained unsettled for decades was whether the trust is a resulting trust or
a constructive trust. The resulting trust is based on paying for assets: the shares reflect
the amount contributed by each party. Those arguing for a resulting trust do not argue
that one has to take a very precise mathematical calculation. Thus equal shares could
follow even though a woman, who earlier contributed equally, took a career break to
care for young children: the pattern was one of equal contribution.
14
[1972] 1 WLR 1286.
97
The constructive trust is based on more general ideas of unconscionability. It is

thought to provide greater freedom for the courts to fashion an appropriate remedy, as
they are less tied to contributions. However, in many situations the same results will
follow whichever analysis is employed. Indeed, in Gissing Lord Diplock stated that it did
not matter whether it was a resulting or constructive trust.
Apart from Stack, the leading case today is Oxley v Hiscock.15 Chadwick LJ (delivering
the only judgment) appreciated that the choice of type of trust was instrumental in deter-
mining the outcome. He came down in favour of the constructive trust. An important
plank in the reasoning is that the contribution need not determine the size of the shares.
That approach is supported by Midland Bank plc v Cooke,16 the case in which a wedding
present constituted a 6.5 per cent contribution. Despite this small contribution, the
Court of Appeal gave the wife a half-share in the house. Less strikingly, the courts had
long based shares on indirect contributions (even when they did not give rise to an
implied intention) and improvements.
Another justification for the use of constructive trusts relates to the express common
intention. In Eves, the woman was awarded a one-quarter share. A resulting trust ana-
lysis for a case such as Eves is completely out of the question: there was simply no con-
tribution upon which a resulting trust could be imposed. The express common intention
has gained prominence only since Rosset and this provided much of the impetus for the
modern movement in favour of the constructive trust.
The stress on constructive trusts is confirmed by the House of Lords in Stack v Dowden
and the Privy Council in Abbott v Abbott. It should be stressed that this applies as much
to the single name transfer as to the joint names transfer in Stack itself. This need not
mean that resulting trust ideas are to be completely forgotten: the parties’ contributions
may be very significant in determining the outcome, as seen in Stack.
The basis for calculating shares

In Cooke, Waite LJ stressed the nature of the relationship; this showed that the parties
shared assets and expenditure. On that basis, he was able to find an intention of equal
shares, even though the contribution to the purchase had been merely 6.5 per cent. This
approach was rejected in Oxley. To look for such an intention at the time of purchase was
regarded as ‘artificial – and an unnecessary fiction’. Instead, Oxley adopted the test that
the court will award such shares as are fair on all the facts.
Though Stack is generally very supportive of Oxley, this was one point upon which the
Oxley analysis was rejected. It was thought inconsistent with the role of the court to apply
such a judicial discretion based upon fairness. Instead the share should depend on the
common intention of the parties, though (contrary to a suggestion in Cooke) the inten-
tion may change after the date of purchase. This is, of course, what has to be proved
to show that there is some sharing in single name transfers (described as the ‘first
hurdle’ in Stack, before quantification issues become relevant).
15
[2005] Fam 211.
16
[1995] 4 All ER 562; p. 93, above.
98
The important question becomes how we determine the common intention. Two
dicta will be quoted. The first is from Oxley, approved in Stack:
each is entitled to that share which the court considers fair having regard to the whole course
of dealing between them in relation to the property. And, in that context, ‘the whole course
of dealing between them in relation to the property’ includes the arrangements which they
make from time to time in order to meet the outgoings (for example, mortgage contributions,
council tax and utilities, repairs, insurance and housekeeping) which have to be met if they are
to live in the property as their home.
The second is from Baroness Hale in Stack:

Many more factors than financial contributions may be relevant to divining the parties’ true
intentions. These include: any advice or discussions at the time of the transfer which cast light
upon their intentions then; the reasons why the home was acquired in their joint names; the rea-
sons why (if it be the case) the survivor was authorised to give a receipt for the capital moneys; 9
the purpose for which the home was acquired; the nature of the parties’ relationship; whether

they had children for whom they both had responsibility to provide a home; how the purchase
was financed, both initially and subsequently; how the parties arranged their finances, whether
separately or together or a bit of both; how they discharged the outgoings on the property and
their other household expenses.
It will be noted that the factors stressed in Oxley are exclusively financial, though still
less restrictive than the traditional requirements at the ‘first hurdle’ level. This is illustrated
by the decision on the facts. The house cost £127,000. H (Hiscock) and O (Oxley) provided
£25,000 and £36,500 respectively from the sale of their previous houses. H provided a
further £35,500 from his savings and the balance of £30,000 was provided by a mort-
gage. If one were to split the mortgage between them, a resulting trust analysis would
give H a 59.6 per cent share. Using a constructive trust, the Court of Appeal decided that
H was entitled to a 60 per cent share, reflecting the extra capital contribution he had
made to the purchase.
Though it is immediately obvious that financial contributions lay at the heart of assessing
fairness, this does not mean that the result is without significance. There was evidence
that H and O shared household expenditure, but the judgments reveal no detail as to
how the mortgage payments were made or exactly what and how much O contributed.
The court treated the mortgage loan as equally provided by the parties. This willingness
to use ideas of sharing to split the mortgage between the parties may be very valuable.
In most cases, the mortgage loan will be by far the greatest contribution to the purchase
price and splitting it equally would be highly beneficial to the claimant. However, this
works only if the claimant is working and thereby being able to contribute to family
expenditure.
Turning to the dicta of Baroness Hale, these plainly take non-financial considerations
into account. Yet it must be remembered that these dicta were in the context of a joint
names transfer. Baroness Hale went out of her way to stress that the inferences to be
drawn ‘may be very different’ in single name transfers. This is because of the presump-
tion of equality in joint names transfers. In that context, to show unequal contributions
comes nowhere close to rebutting that presumption. The factors she relies upon may go
far to explain why equality makes sense in the context of the particular relationship. In
99
the single name transfer, there is no presumption of equality. Once the first hurdle has
been cleared, we know that the claimant will get some share, but no more than that.
It is difficult to assess just how much difference Stack makes. It may be that it remains
appropriate in a single name transfer to start with a presumption of shares based on
financial contributions (applying Oxley), but with freedom to move beyond that if the
facts justify this. As indicated above, it may not be difficult to treat the mortgage as attribu-
table to both parties where they both contribute to family expenses – that will go far
towards equality in many cases. In particular, equality will be relatively straightforward if,
as in Abbott, there is a joint bank account. However, in a significant number of cases one
of the parties will have made a substantial capital contribution, most obviously when the
house was already owned when the relationship commenced. It will take quite excep-
tional facts to justify equal beneficial shares in those circumstances.

● The impact of Stack in single name transfers
We are not here interested in questions of calculation, but with the ‘first hurdle’ question
as to whether there is a common intention at all. In dealing with this, we will consider
the material under three headings: background dicta, dicta specifically on the first hurdle
and the effect of the dicta, with special stress on indirect contributions.
Background dicta
Several factors point to a more flexible approach in future. At a very general level, plac-
ing emphasis on constructive rather than resulting trusts proclaims an intention not to
be overly tied to financial considerations.
More specifically, Lord Walker in Stack was critical of the old distinction between
inferred intentions and imputed intentions. It had been thought that Gissing made it
impossible for the court to impose intentions on the parties: to impute intentions. On the
other hand, it could be inferred from conduct that the parties had a common intention
– most obviously where there have been direct financial contributions. Lord Walker clearly
thought that the parties do not really have such intentions and that it is more accurate
to describe the intention as imputed. Lord Neuberger strongly disagreed and his views
certainly reflect traditional analyses. Baroness Hale refers (in both Stack and Abbott) to
inferred and imputed intentions, but without stressing the point.
The significance of this is that imputing intentions may enable the courts to be more
inventive in concluding that there is a common intention. However, it is far from clear
that this is what Lord Walker intended. It seems more likely that he was seeking to char-
acterise what the courts have been doing for the past 30 years. In Jones v Kernott,17
Strauss QC placed emphasis upon imputing intentions and made the good point that it
17
[2010] 1 P&CR D9. Unusually, the common intention test was used to vary shares following relation-
ship breakdown (many years before the proceedings).
100
is difficult to impute an intention without reference to fairness. He proceeded to give fair-

ness a higher profile than one might have expected from the dicta in Stack, as the House
of Lords (when quantifying shares) rejected the use of a judicial discretion based on
fairness. Strauss QC restricts the use of fairness only where it would be inconsistent with
intentions.
The most powerful argument, however, is that the basis for proving a common inten-
tion for calculating shares surely should be the same as the common intention at the first
hurdle stage. It would be incomprehensible to say that factors can be considered at one
stage but not the other. This may enjoy some support from Abbott, though there was a
direct financial contribution on the facts and quantification was an issue. Compelling as
this point is,18 two factors have to be remembered. The first is that these dicta were
directed at the quantification issue; Baroness Hale in particular went out of her way to
stress that she was not dealing with the first hurdle. The second is that, as we have seen, 9
the dicta were directed at joint names transfers, with explicit recognition that these

involve somewhat different issues.
Dicta on the first hurdle

Because Stack concerns joint names transfers, it is natural that little is said directly about
the single name context. Indeed, there are somewhat different messages. Lord Hope
stresses that, just as there is a presumption of equality for joint names transfers, there is
a presumption of single ownership in single name transfers. Yet it seems improbable that
particularly strong evidence is required to prove shared beneficial ownership in the
single name context. This should be easier to prove than an intention for unequal shares
in a joint names transfer.
More compelling is the analysis of Lord Walker that the law has moved on since Lord
Bridge’s insistence on direct financial contributions in Rosset. This was approved by the
Privy Council in Abbott. Baroness Hale expressed similar views, saying that the hurdle
may have been set rather too high.
The effect of the dicta; indirect contributions

It is a weakness of Stack that we are not told how far the old law, as laid down most
strictly in Rosset, is changed. Several subsequent cases have mentioned Stack; they gen-
erally support the application of a broadly based approach to common intention. What
is less clear is the extent to which this changes the results reached by the earlier cases.
Some cases support the idea of significant change, whereas others take an approach
more akin to that advocated by Lord Hope. The difficulties are most likely to be acute
where there are non-financial contributions, as in Burns.
The analysis of Lord Walker shows that he is most concerned about the Rosset rejec-
tion of indirect financial contributions. If one is looking for an incremental development
from Rosset (an approach favoured by the tenor of several of the dicta), then this is the
area in which change should be expected. It would be surprising, especially in the light
18
See, especially, Gardner (2008) 124 LQR 422.
101
of Le Foe and its support by the Law Commission, if there were to be no change. Indeed,
at County Court level indirect contributions have been assumed to count.19
This will greatly diminish the significance of the Burns issue: most partners will have
contributed to family expenditure at some time. On the other hand, indirect contribu-
tions are notoriously complex in their operation. It is not enough to show expenditure
on family expenses; rather, it is thought necessary to show that the legal owner could
not otherwise have afforded the mortgage instalments. A common scenario involves a
couple with a child, where the mother works and contributes to expenditure when the
child becomes older. While the child is young and the mother is at home, the father
(legal owner) pays the mortgage and all other expenses out of his income. It is a struggle,
but the couple cope. It is difficult to argue that the mother’s later contributions while
working are essential for the mortgage to be paid. Yet Stack might herald a more
liberal approach to what counts as an indirect contribution: perhaps any sustained and
significant contribution to family finances will suffice.
A further problem is that much depends on the wealth and earnings of the legal
owner. The poorer the legal owner, the easier it is to prove that the indirect contributions
assisted payment of the mortgage instalments. Most people would regard it as odd that
the same contributions may give rise to a share in the home of a relatively poor partner
but none in that of a wealthy partner. Indirect contributions can certainly be argued to
have a useful role to play, but they are no panacea for all the family home difficulties.
● Reform
The deficiencies in the present law are all too obvious from the analyses above. The pres-
ent law combines complexity and unpredictability in its application. Some of the worst
deficiencies may be removed by Stack, but the law is still in an uncertain state.
At least the law has sought to recognise rights of some of those who do not have the
legal title. The trust may have been the only tool available for redistributing property
rights and the common intention the most natural route into finding a trust. However,
the trust is at heart a device for financial management, ill-suited for dealing with family
issues. It may be better than nothing, but its use both subverts trust law principles and
is an inadequate response to the needs of those sharing homes. In particular, the stress
on common intention seems highly artificial. Even though Stack doubtless introduces
greater flexibility, the cornerstone of the courts’ analysis very clearly remains the com-
mon intention.
The problem lies in knowing what to put in its place. Some argue for an unjust enrich-
ment basis, though this may not be easy to apply and would not normally produce an
equality outcome (in the manner in which the mortgage contribution was seen as joint
in cases such as Oxley and Abbott). A few years ago, the Law Commission20 attempted
to produce a scheme for shared ownership of homes that would operate to the exclu-
sion of intention. The attempt failed: quite unacceptable results followed from ignoring
19
Webster v Webster [2009] 1 FLR 1240; a wide view of the effect of Stack was adopted.
20
Sharing Homes: Law Com No 278.
102
intention. In part, this was a result of a commendable attempt to include virtually all non-
commercial relationships and to give effect to all forms of contribution. A more viable
scheme might have been produced if the Law Commission had limited itself to specific
relationships, especially those closest to marriage. The Law Commission was forced to
conclude that the present law should be maintained, though expressing the hope that
indirect financial contributions might be recognised.
It may be thought that, rather than using established legal categories such as trusts
and unjust enrichment, we should look to family law principles as the way forward. These
principles are almost always enshrined in legislation, rather than common law. Some
countries have schemes for joint ownership of the family home, often described as com-
munity property. This was proposed a few decades ago for married couples in England,
but this was never implemented. It isn’t really needed for married couples, given the
statutory discretion to redistribute assets on divorce. Other relationships take such a variety 9
of forms that a single response may be inappropriate. People live together for short or

long periods, with and without children. Sometimes one of the parties is married and
living with their spouse. In other cases, they may be close friends or relatives, without any
sexual relationship.
A more promising approach is to use the model of the statutory discretions available
on marriage breakdown. It is almost certainly inappropriate simply to apply those discre-
tions to unmarried couples, as that would fail to recognise the real differences between
the relationships. Following their failure to establish a shared ownership scheme, the
Law Commission undertook a major review of the area in 2007, based upon the financial
consequences of relationship breakdown.21 They recommend that courts be given a
discretion regarding cohabitants living in a joint household (most especially where there
are children), applicable when their relationship breaks down. The discretion would include
the reallocation of property rights.
The criteria to be applied would be quite different from those operating on divorce.
Stress would be placed on economic advantages resulting from contributions and on
economic disadvantages or sacrifices, but ignoring advantages and disadvantages
operating only during the relationship. Advantages to the legal owner could include the
payment of mortgage instalments and improvements. Disadvantages to the claimant
could include giving up employment to look after children, where this affects future
earning power or pension rights. These proposals look valuable, though there is a long way
to go before they become enshrined in legislation. It should be stressed that they provide
a discretionary rather than a proprietary remedy. This means that they are useless if the
legal owner mortgages the property during the relationship. In that context, the Stack
principles would remain important.
● Estoppel and constructive trusts

Over the past 20 years, many judges have commented on the similarity between these
two legal doctrines. Each sets out to avoid unconscionable conduct. Each involves
21
Law Com No 307.
103
expectations: in estoppel we refer to representations or mistakes; in constructive trusts

we refer to common intentions. Each requires the claimant to act to their detriment in
order to show unconscionability.
It is therefore unsurprising that, as discussed below, the doctrines are converging.
However, there are differences in the typical factual settings in which they arise. As regards
the family home, the constructive trust has been used when the question is whether the
parties should share ownership. Estoppels have arisen where somebody expects to have
sole ownership or some other right (life interest or easement, for example); the context
is rarely that of the acquisition of the property. The fact that they have been used in dif-
ferent factual situations doubtless explains why it took time for their similarities to receive
attention. There has also been discussion of their overlap where it is sought to enforce an
agreement which has fallen foul of the writing requirements of the Law of Property
(Miscellaneous Provisions) Act 1989. This was mentioned in the previous chapter.22
Most of the interest, however, lies in the family home context. It would be wrong to
think that constructive trusts and estoppel cover exactly the same ground. Two points
might be made. Taking constructive trusts first, most of the law lies in when a common
intention will be inferred (or imputed). There is no true equivalent of this in the estoppel
framework. Indeed, it is the express common intention cases that have given rise to the
comparisons being stressed. It is no accident that the first significant dicta on the
comparison are found in Grant v Edwards,23 one of the two pre-Rosset cases on express
intentions. Next, an important aspect of estoppel is the operation of acquiescence:
where the owner allows a person to spend money on the basis of a mistake. There is no
equivalent of this in constructive trusts.
This is not to say that a combined doctrine could never embody all these points.
Rather, it is not feasible to think about the simple elimination of one of the doctrines:
each has its special rules and uses. What might be expected is that, where they overlap,
their rules may converge so that each principle produces the same answer. Thus, Yaxley
v Gotts24 regarded the doctrines as ‘closely akin to, if not indistinguishable’. It would be
most unfortunate if we were to say that a person loses because they have relied on, say,
estoppel when a constructive trust would have brought success.
We now turn to the principal areas in which comparisons can be made.
Common intention compared with assumptions and expectations

Is the common intention of the constructive trust different from the assumption or
expectation of estoppel? It might be possible to argue that common intention is a form
of agreement between the parties – rather like contract. On the other hand, estoppel is
more unilateral in nature. Some cases involve representations, most obviously in the
informal gifts cases (for example Dillwyn v Llewelyn,25 in which the father orally gave land
to a son), whereas others involve mistakes and acquiescence.
22
See pp. 82–4.
23
[1986] Ch 638.
24
[2000] Ch 162.
25
(1862) 4 De GF&J 517 (45 ER 1285).
104
Differences between the operation of the doctrines might be justified if they do in fact
deal with different sorts of factual situations. Yet it is not clear that factual situations can
be neatly distinguished in this manner. Dillwyn is a good example of a representation,
but many other leading estoppel cases seem more contractual in nature. For example,
Jennings v Rice 26 can be seen as being close to contract: the owner agreed to leave prop-
erty by will to the claimant, in return for his looking after her. This is emphasised by the
distinction drawn by Robert Walker LJ between two types of estoppel cases: those which
have a ‘a consensual character falling not far short of an enforceable contract’ and others
in which there are uncertain expectations.
Some commentators have argued that estoppel may provide greater flexibility: there
is less need for certainty as to the property right involved. Yet both principles are based
on unconscionability and it would be surprising if great precision were required by either.
We saw in Chapter 8 that Cobbe v Yeoman’s Row Management Ltd 27 and Thorner v 9
Major 28 contain differing views on the role of certainty in estoppel.

Detrimental reliance
This area was discussed by Sir Nicolas Browne-Wilkinson V-C in the common intention
case of Grant v Edwards.29 Most discussion of detrimental reliance is found in estoppel
cases and Browne-Wilkinson V-C considered that the common intention principles should
be influenced by those cases.
Is it necessary to prove that the detriment was incurred because of the common inten-
tion? Many family activities might be undertaken anyway because of the family relation-
ship, regardless of whether there is a common intention as to property rights. In the
estoppel setting,30 we saw that the courts presume the detriment to be incurred because
of the assumption or expectation: a principle which is very favourable to claimants. Grant
v Edwards supports the application of the same principle to the constructive trust.
It might be added that we have seen that there are suggestions that detrimental
reliance is not required for constructive trusts after Stack, though this seems unlikely.
Remedies
It has been seen that the courts have a distinct discretion as regards the remedy in estoppel.
There is less evidence of a similar discretion operating in constructive trusts. However,
Oxley v Hiscock threatened to upset that assessment. Chadwick LJ relied on the estoppel
cases for his conclusion that the courts would award a fair share to each party. The com-
parison proved difficult to commentators, not least because the test applied in Oxley
looked to have a number of features distinguishing it from the discretion in estoppel.
In any event, the fairness test was rejected in Stack: we have seen that the House of
Lords preferred to base the quantification of the shares on common intention. This
plainly removes the basis for linking the remedy with estoppel. The relationship between
26
[2003] 1 P&CR 100.
27
[2008] 1 WLR 1752.
28
[2009] 1 WLR 776; see p. 84 above.
29
[1986] Ch 638.
30
See p. 76, above.
105
estoppel and constructive trust is further developed by Lord Walker. He stresses that con-
structive trusts are used to determine the shares of the parties, whereas an estoppel
simply provides jurisdiction to award a remedy, which is designed to be the minimum to
do justice and may be a monetary award. He observed that his own dicta in Yaxley pro-
moted the linking of estoppel and constructive trust. Plainly, he has now had second
thoughts and is ‘rather less enthusiastic’ about any complete assimilation of the concepts.
Accordingly, we have reverted to the original position that there are real differences
between constructive trusts and estoppels as regards remedies. Can this be justified,
given the similarities between them? One might argue that where the parties are acting
together (common intention constructive trust) then it makes sense to award what they
have agreed. Where there is a simple representation or acquiescence (estoppel), then
awarding the expectation is more likely to be disproportionate. This is seen in the will-
ingness of Robert Walker LJ in Jennings to award the expectation in those estoppel cases
which are based on consensual agreements. Whether this analysis justifies the ‘bright
line’ distinction drawn in Stack is more arguable.
Proprietary status
Despite some earlier doubts regarding estoppel, it appears today that both estoppel and
constructive trust give rise to proprietary rights capable of binding purchasers. One pro-
blem will be discussed: the application of trusts of land on the acquisition of a family home.
When a constructive trust analysis is used, there will be a trust of land giving effect
to the appropriate shares. As is seen in more detail in Chapter 12, the land can be sold
or mortgaged by two trustees. The beneficiaries will then have no claim against the pur-
chaser or mortgagee: their interests are said to be overreached and take effect against
the money. Suppose, however, that the claimants rely on estoppel rather than a construc-
tive trust. Can they then argue that overreaching does not apply to estoppels so that
the estoppel binds (for example) a mortgagee? This argument was raised in Birmingham
Midshires Mortgage Services Ltd v Sabherwal.31 Fortunately, the Court of Appeal held
that overreaching applies to both estoppel and constructive trusts in the family setting.
This seems desirable, as it would be most unfortunate if different results ensued according
to which analysis the claimant argued. It means, of course, that we need to distinguish
these family cases from other examples of proprietary estoppels in which overreaching
would not apply. For example, overreaching would be quite inappropriate for the right
to an easement in Crabb v Arun District Council:32 a right of way cannot be exercised
over the proceeds of sale.
Assessing the comparison

For most of the past 20 years, the two doctrines have been drawing steadily closer. Although
no attempt has been made to merge them, the courts have been increasingly concerned
to ensure the compatibility of their rules. Examples are seen in Grant v Edwards on detri-
mental reliance and Yaxley v Gotts33 on contracts for the sale of land.
31
(1999) 80 P&CR 256.
32
[1976] Ch 179.
33
[2000] Ch 162; see p. 82, above.
106
Some commentators have argued that the doctrines have different bases and that
much would be lost if they were to be integrated. This gains some support from the dicta
of Lord Walker in Stack, discussed above. If this represents general judicial thinking, then
the doctrines will retain separate identities with some different rules. However, it is import-
ant to remember that it is ‘complete assimilation’ which is questioned by Lord Walker.
This does not mean that the two areas cannot learn from other, nor that the movement
towards minimising the differences will be reversed. It may still be predicted that the two
will enjoy near identical rules in some respects of their operation. Even if the courts were
to be more enthusiastic about assimilation, that does not mean we are likely to end up
with a single principle. As has been explained, each contains special features as regards
their sphere of operation. Thus estoppel would remain useful to explain acquiescence
and constructive trusts useful to explain implied common intentions.
9

107
10 Priorities

e have seen the nature of property rights is that they bind purchasers. A very simple
W approach is to say that if Andy has a proprietary interest in Brian’s land, then this
will bind Carla if she purchases from Brian. In the language of this chapter title, Andy’s
interest has priority over Carla. First in time priority lies at the heart of many of the pri-
ority rules relating to competing interest holders. It is shown in the Latin saying nemo dat
quod non habet (nobody can give what they do not have). Brian himself holds the land
subject to Andy’s interest and cannot give Carla any better right than he possesses.
However, priority rules are more complex than simply favouring the first in time.
English land law has been dominated by equitable analyses for many centuries. The courts
of equity would allow equitable claims to affect only those purchasers whose consciences
were affected. This grew into the doctrine whereby purchasers are bound by equitable
interests only if there is notice of that interest. In the modern law, the old principles,
whether based on nemo dat or the doctrine of notice, have lost most of their signi-
ficance. Instead, we apply statutory registered land rules to resolve disputes. Approxi-
mately 90 per cent of titles to land are today registered, so we will concentrate on
registered land. Nevertheless, we need to look at the earlier principles. As well as still
being relevant for unregistered land, they have provided the basis of priorities think-
ing for centuries and continue to be influential today.
Priority rules are crucially important. Even if Andy can show that his claim is a propri-
etary interest, it may be worthless if he fails to register it. A rather different point is that
priority principles establish what purchasers of land should do and how claimants should
protect themselves: we move into procedures involved in land transactions. Though this
is important, especially as regards land registration, we will concentrate on working out
the priority of competing interests.
108

● Legal and equitable priority rules
Although our main concern is with registered land, this section deals with the old rules
relating to unregistered land. Though modified by statute, these rules still apply to un-
registered land.
First in time
The time order of interests plays a significant role. As between two legal interests or two
equitable interests, the first in time will generally have priority: this may be seen as the
default position. Even in these cases, however, it is not an immutable rule. If the first
interest holder does something that creates a trap for purchasers, then the first interest 10
may be postponed. A good example is found in the law of mortgages. The first lender
Priorities
invariably takes possession of the title deeds. This is very important because any pur-
chaser expects the seller to possess the title deeds: their absence is a very strong indication
that there has been a mortgage. If the seller has the title deeds, this indicates that there
is no mortgage. It is unsurprising that a lender who fails to obtain the title deeds will be
postponed to a later purchaser who is unaware of the mortgage.1
The doctrine of notice

The Court of Chancery developed the doctrine of notice in order to avoid uncon-
scionable conduct on the part of purchasers. A purchaser from a trustee should be bound
if, but only if, his or her conscience is affected. Over the centuries, this flexible approach
hardened into the doctrine of notice: a purchaser in good faith of a legal estate for value
and without notice of the trusts will not be affected by the trusts. Notice may be actual
or constructive. There will be constructive notice if a reasonable purchaser would have
discovered the existence of the trust, whether by careful reading of the title deeds or by
inspecting the land.
The inspection of title deeds is the purchaser’s central task. The purchaser has to estab-
lish that the seller does indeed own the land and that there are no existing interests (such
as leases and easements) that may be binding on purchasers. To enable this, the seller
has to provide the purchaser with the title deeds (principally, transfers of the land from
one person to another) for a set period. That period has been substantially reduced over
the years. Since 1969,2 the seller has to produce the first document older than 15 years
and all the more recent ones. The choice of a relatively short period is assisted because
adverse possession for 12 years will cure many defects in titles. A century ago, inspecting
title was a long and difficult task. The period was much longer (40 years) and con-
veyances were frequently lengthy and complex. Today, there are likely to be two or three
quite short and simple documents. In any event, those documents have to be read very
carefully. The purchaser will have notice of all interests discoverable from them.
1
Jones v Rhind (1869) 17 WR 1091; Walker v Linom [1907] 2 Ch 104.
2
Law of Property Act 1969, s 23, amending Law of Property Act 1925 (hereafter LPA), s 44.
109
In addition, the purchaser must inspect the land: this guards against notice of the rights
of occupiers. Usually, of course, the seller will be the occupier. But if somebody different
is there (possibly a tenant under an equitable lease) or another person shares occupation
with the seller (most likely a partner of the seller, sharing ownership under a trust), then
the purchaser must make enquiries of them in order to be safe.
Although these duties might seem reasonable, by the end of the nineteenth century
it was generally agreed that purchasers faced great burdens. This meant that purchasing
land was a time-consuming and costly exercise, with no certainty that all adverse
interests would be discovered.
History tells us why notice rules were applied to equitable interests, rather than the
normal first in time principle. Can we justify the different rules in terms of their modern
operation? The only convincing response is that legal interests tend to be the older and
most important rights, thereby deserving greater protection against purchasers. In addi-
tion, equitable interests are less likely to appear from the deeds or occupation and so
present more of a trap for purchasers. Giving purchasers some greater protection against
equitable interests can be justified, though it is difficult to rationalise all the rules.
Exceptional cases
Dealings with equitable interests
Such dealings are illustrated by this example. Gordon holds land on trust for Harriet.
Harriet transfers her interest first to Imelda and then (inconsistent with that) to Janet.
Who of Imelda and Janet succeeds? The priority rule (applicable to all assignments) is
that the first to give notice to the trustee has priority.3 The logic of requiring notice is that
the trustee needs to know to whom the trust obligations are owed.
Equities
Some rights, generally those based on the exercise of an equitable remedy such as
rescission or rectification, are accorded the status of equities. Equities are weaker than
equitable interests in two respects. The first relates to the holder of an equity who is in
occupation. Contrary to the normal rule for equitable interests, occupation does not
provide notice. This is because occupation may well not indicate anything out of the
ordinary. If a tenant has a right to rectify the lease (perhaps to reduce the rent), then the
occupation of the tenant provides no warning as to the right to rectify – one expects any
tenant to occupy. The second concerns the type of purchaser who can defeat an equity.
A bona fide purchaser without notice of an equitable estate will not defeat a prior equit-
able interest (a legal estate is required), but will defeat an equity.
● The need for reform

Criticism of these old rules concentrates on two points. First, selling and buying land is
complex and expensive. In particular, each purchaser has to look carefully at all the old
deeds. This involves repetition and a danger of missing interests or misreading deeds.
3
Dearle v Hall (1828) 3 Russ 1 (38 ER 475). This rule applies only to transfers of equitable interests under
trusts, not to transfers of other equitable interests in land: LPA, s 137(10).
110
Next, there will always be uncertainty. If there is an earlier legal interest or the purchaser
is held to have notice of an equitable interest, then the title may be badly affected and,
in the worst cases, the purchase money thrown away. Meanwhile, the holder of an equit-
able interest is also at risk: it may be lost if somebody purchases the land without notice.
It has been apparent for centuries that registration is the best way to deal with these
issues. Purchasers can discover registered rights by the simple act of looking at the register.
Suppose Carla contracts to sell her land to Davina. Carla subsequently transfers the land
to Edwina. If Davina registers her interest (an estate contract), Edwina can readily
discover it and will be bound by it (whether or not she checks the register). Usually,
registration systems protect purchasers (such as Edwina) against unregistered interests.
In England, there have been three forms of registration. Registration of deeds is the
oldest. It identifies the sort of document that must be registered. Despite being the
oldest, it was never widely applied and has been dropped. Next there is registration of 10
land charges. This is designed to replace the doctrine of notice: listed interests (mainly
Priorities
equitable interests such as Davina’s estate contract) have to be registered. Finally, there
is registration of title. This requires ownership to be registered, with adverse rights (such
as estate contracts) also requiring entry on the register. It is often called land registration
and, once registered, land within the scheme is called registered land. This is the most
ambitious form of registration. Introduced in the 1860s, it has been slowly expanded so
that over 90 per cent of titles are today registered, with close to 100 per cent registration
expected within the next decade. Where title is registered, neither the doctrine of notice
nor land charges applies. Though notice and land charges both still apply to the remain-
ing 10 per cent of titles, they are obsolescent and not worthy of prolonged analysis.
● Land charges
The system of land charges is governed today by the Land Charges Act 1972, though
it has been little changed since 1925. It is a limited system, focused on registering
equitable interests. In particular, legal fees simple and leases cannot be registered. It
follows that registration is a warning of the existence of equitable rights, but it does
not prove ownership and cannot begin to take the place of the title deeds. The purchase
of land is made no easier, though it is made more certain.
What rights can be registered? The wording ‘land charges’ conjures up mortgages,
but the list of registrable interests is much wider than that. In particular, equitable mort-
gages,4 estate contracts and restrictive covenants are included. Interests under trusts of
land are deliberately omitted. Two trustees can overreach these interests on a sale or
mortgage, so that the interests take effect against the money proceeds of the transaction
rather than against the land.5 Because interests under trusts will not normally bind pur-
chasers, there is no reason to bring them within the registration system. There are some
non-listed equitable interests and these remain subject to the doctrine of notice.
Equitable proprietary estoppel provides one example.
4
More technically, it is mortgages (legal or equitable) not protected by the deposit of title deeds which
have to be registered. The deposit of deeds provides its own warning to purchasers.
5
For overreaching, see p. 16, above and pp. 160–3, below.
111
How does the system work? As there is no register of ownership, we cannot use a regis-
ter relating to the land. The solution is to register against the name of the legal owner.
When the land is later sold, the purchaser will request a search against the names of the
owners over the years. The land registry conducts the search and gives the purchaser a
search certificate containing the results. If an interest is registered, it automatically binds
purchasers. If a registrable interest has not been registered, then it will fail against a pur-
chaser. Indeed, a purchaser who obtains a clear search certificate (one not identifying a
registration) will be protected even if an interest has been entered on the register.6
This system of registering and searching is administratively simple and has long been
computerised.
Unfortunately, the system is fundamentally flawed, even leaving aside the limited
range of interests covered. As the cases show, it is common to get the name wrong. This
may be simply a typing error, but more problematic are cases where an individual’s name
may not be known accurately by the parties. Is Andy Smith really Andy Smith, or is it
Andrew Smith? Problems often occur because the full names of the individual are not
always used. Thus in Diligent Finance Ltd v Alleyne 7 a wife registered a claim against her
husband as Erskine Alleyne, unaware that his full name was Erskine Owen Alleyne. A
search by a mortgagee against the full name failed to identify the registration against the
shorter version. Because the holder of a clear search certificate succeeds, the mortgagee
defeated her claim. Even worse problems were feared because purchasers may not be
aware of the names of owners of the land prior to the 15-year title period. It is not feasible
to update registrations when land is sold: neither the interest holder nor the registry may
be aware of the sale. In practice, this unknown names problem has not proved serious
so far, though the land registry pays compensation to purchasers who are bound by
undiscoverable land charges.8
● Land registration
Introduction
Land registration sets out to record both ownership and other interests (legal and equit-
able) in the land, the register being based on a map of the relevant plot. This makes it
far more comprehensive than the land charges scheme. The task facing the purchaser of
registered land is quite straightforward. Instead of going through lengthy and possibly
opaque deeds, the purchaser discovers from the register who owns the land and what
adverse rights there are affecting it. Significantly, this information is guaranteed to be
accurate.
That is the aspiration, though the reality is a little different. For a start, purchasers
are concerned about more than the state of title, so registration doesn’t answer all a
purchaser’s questions. For example, purchasers will be interested in the physical state of
the premises (this requires a survey), and whether there is planning permission for the
6
Land Charges Act 1972, s 10(4).
7
(1972) 23 P&CR 346.
8
Law of Property Act 1969, s 25.
112
intended use. These issues lie entirely outside the registration system. Even as regards
interests in land, we shall see that some enjoy overriding interest status and bind pur-
chasers despite not being entered on the register.
Registration of title involves a complex statutory scheme. It was recently updated by
the Land Registration Act 2002 (LRA or 2002 Act), which introduced significant changes.
Though most of the basic ideas pre-date the 2002 Act, the earlier cases have to be
viewed with caution. The present survey can do no more than sketch the principal attri-
butes of the system: no attempt is made to deal with all the details and statutory pro-
visions. We should also remember that the system is as much about the procedures
involved in purchases and other dealings with land as it is with priorities. We are not
especially interested in that element of it, though in Chapter 7 we investigated the
significance of e-conveyancing introduced by the 2002 Act.
10
The development of registration of title
Priorities
Although land registration dates back to 1862, it became significant only after compul-
sory registration was introduced in London in 1897. Compulsory registration then, as
now, means compulsory registration on sale or other triggering events. Over a century
later, there is still some unregistered land in London. Compulsory registration gradually
expanded beyond London, until all of England and Wales became covered in 1990. The
‘triggers’ for first registration have been expanded over the decades, so that any transfer
of the legal title (including gifts and on death) has to be registered. The outcome is that
just over 90 per cent of titles are registered, that percentage increasing by around 1 per
cent each year. However, only about 69 per cent of the land area was registered by 2009.
This is because, until 1990, compulsory registration concentrated on urban areas where
plots were smaller and more easily mapped. The land registry is now attempting (with
some success) to encourage large landowners to register their titles on a voluntary basis.
The 69 per cent figure is growing by around 4 to 5 per cent a year.
Categories of interest
There are three categories of interest, around which the priority rules are constructed.
They are: registered interests, protected interests (we will call them ‘minor interests’, as
did the 1925 legislation) and overriding interests. Overriding interests are especially signi-
ficant and controversial because they are effective without any entry on the register.
Both registered and minor interests should be entered on the register. We refer to
registering registrable interests and protecting minor interests. As will be seen in more
detail later, the provisions relating to registering and protecting are different. The most
important difference is that the system guarantees that registered interests exist, whereas
there is no such guarantee for minor interests. Suppose land belongs to Sheila, but
Timothy (unaware of this) is registered as proprietor. Timothy’s registration is guaran-
teed and will, subject to any overriding interest, defeat Sheila’s original ownership,
though we shall see later that she may well be able to claim compensation (‘indemnity’
in the language of the legislation).
This is to be contrasted with protecting minor interests. Suppose that Ursula, the
registered proprietor, has contracted to sell the land to Vanya, but the contract is void
113
because it does not satisfy writing requirements. Vanya’s protecting this estate contract
(a minor interest) on the register attracts no guarantee: it has no effect on Ursula’s right
to deny its invalidity. The only effect of protection is that future dealings with the land
would have been bound by the estate contract, had it been valid. Accordingly, we can
say that both registered interests and protected minor interests give protection as regards
future dealings, but only registered interests confer protection as regards past defects
(such as Timothy’s not owning the land before he was registered).
Registered interests
Land registration is a misleading term. What is registered is a freehold or leasehold estate,
not the land itself as a geographical area. This is why ‘title registration’ is a more accur-
ate term than ‘land registration’. It follows that there can be two or more registered titles
in relation to the same plot of land: a freehold title and a leasehold title. There can be
good sense in this because the freehold and leasehold titles may be separately sold and
mortgaged. It also aided the growth of registration by permitting the registration of long
leases despite the freehold not being registered.
The upshot is that both legal fees simple absolute in possession and legal leases over
seven years can be registered. Indeed, on creation or transfer they must be registered –
whether or not the relevant freehold was previously registered. If the freehold is already
registered, then the purchaser or tenant will obtain a legal estate only on the registration
of the transfer or lease.9 If the freehold is not registered, then the ‘first registration’ rules
apply. The new fee simple owner or tenant has two months in which to register. The logic
here is that there is a normal sale or lease under unregistered land procedures (there is
no registered title to consult); registration is required only after the freehold or lease has
been acquired.
The lease deserves a little more attention. The seven-year requirement (reduced from
21 years by the 2002 Act) has been chosen to distinguish between two categories of
leases. Short leases are likely to be created informally and without legal advice: requiring
registration would be unrealistic and unduly burdensome. As well as being more formal,
longer leases are more likely to be assigned or charged, for which the benefits of regis-
tration are most significant. The choice of the seven-year period is necessarily somewhat
arbitrary; the reduction to seven years by the 2002 Act was one of the more controver-
sial aspects of the reforms. It is anticipated that when electronic conveyancing is fully in
force, the period will be further reduced to three years.10 The thinking behind this is that
leases over three years already require a deed and that electronic registration will be no
more burdensome.
Exceptionally, two types of shorter lease must be registered. These are discontinuous
leases (such as a lease for the first week in May for the next four years) and leases
taking effect in more than three months’ time (future leases). They require registration
because otherwise they are likely to be undiscoverable by purchasers.11
9
LRA, s 27.
10
This is authorised by LRA, s 118.
11
LRA, s 27(2)(b)(ii) and (iii). There is no compulsory first registration (i.e., where the landlord is not
registered) of discontinuous leases: s 4.
114
When land is registered, a somewhat confusing complication is that there are three
alternative forms of title. Virtually always, absolute title is approved by the land registry.
The effect of this is that there is the normal full guarantee of the new title on first regis-
tration – subject only to entries on the register and overriding interests. Occasionally,
some or all of the deeds relating to the property are missing on first registration, so that
nobody knows what adverse claims might exist. To cover this type of problem, the land
registry may give either qualified title (no guarantee as regards an identified defect, such
as a missing deed) or possessory title (no guarantee – designed for titles based on adverse
possession).
Leases can have the same three titles, but there is also good leasehold title. This is
designed for cases where the landlord’s title is unregistered and accordingly unknown to
the register. The lease is guaranteed, but not as regards any problems with the landlord’s
title. Good leasehold title is becoming redundant now that nearly all landlords are regis- 10
tered. Qualified, possessory and good leasehold titles are all designed to be interim; they
Priorities
may be converted to absolute titles later.
Freehold and the leasehold estates are registered with their own titles (or files). Other
interests can also be registered, though only as part of an existing freehold or leasehold
title. They are listed by LRA section 27. In addition to transfers and leases, section 27
includes other legal interests in land. The most important examples are legal charges and
express legal easements. It might be thought rather odd that we continue to distinguish
legal and equitable interests within the registration system.
What is the effect of making an interest registrable? First, it must comply with regis-
tration requirements before it can take effect as a legal interest.12 This means that an
entry must be placed on the title of the land affected. Where separate land is benefited,
a further entry may be required on that land’s title. Thus an easement requires an entry
on the title of both the burdened and (if registered) the benefited land. Next a registered
interest is guaranteed and so enjoys enhanced priority status (as mentioned above). This
guarantee is most important for transfers, leases and charges. These are common and
important transactions in which the assurance of getting a good title is vital. It is less clear
that the other registrable interests deserve that status.
Minor interests
All other interests should be protected by way of a notice or restriction on the relevant
registered title. Without such an entry, the interest will fail against a later registered dis-
position (unless it constitutes an overriding interest). The notice is the normal method of
protection: it ensures that the protected interest can bind a purchaser. As we have seen,
it carries no guarantee that the interest exists. Any interest in land can be protected
by notice, subject to three main exceptions.13 First, interests under trusts cannot be so
protected. This is because a restriction is the more appropriate entry, as discussed below.
Second, leases not exceeding three years cannot usually be protected. There are good
reasons for not requiring entry of short leases, given that they are often entered into
12
When e-conveyancing is compulsory, it will have no effect at all without registration.
13
LRA, s 33.
115
informally and will be pretty obvious to purchasers. However, it is puzzling that entry is
prohibited. Third, a more technical exclusion is that of restrictive covenants in leases.
Nearly every lease contains restrictive covenants, limiting what can be done on the premises.
To require their protection would have the onerous effect of requiring an entry in respect
of every lease. No harm is done by the exclusion, as anybody dealing with the lease will
read it and be aware of the covenant.
The restriction is more special. It is an instruction to the land registry not to register a
disposition unless some procedure is followed. It is designed to operate before purchase
by telling the purchaser what to do. The best example of the use of restrictions is where
there is a trust of land. It will be seen in Chapter 12 that the trustees have power to dis-
pose of land, but only if two trustees receive the purchase money. For the protection of
beneficiaries and purchasers, it is important to ensure that the two-trustees requirement
is known about and complied with. This is achieved by a restriction requiring there to be
two trustees before a transfer is registered. This gives the beneficiaries the protection they
need, while at the same time telling the purchaser what needs to be done. We do not
set out to bind purchasers (as with the notice), but rather to ensure that the purchase
money is paid to two trustees and that the purchaser gets a good title. The restriction is
so suitable for trusts that protection by notice is prohibited.
One further aspect of the restriction deserves mention. Because of its focus on pro-
cedures, it can be used even where there is no interest in land. A trust of land may require
a person’s consent before the trustees sell the land. A restriction can be used to ensure
that no registration can take place without that consent. In other contexts, a consent
requirement could simply be contractual: a restriction can still be sought despite the
absence of any interest in land. This means that restrictions have the potential for use
in a capricious manner, which could cause uncertainty. An example might be that a
transfer should not be registered unless a building is in good repair: not something the
land registry can be expected to adjudicate upon. As a result, the land registry has to
approve any non-standard restriction.
Overriding interests
Overriding interests are important and controversial because they contravene the most
basic registration principle: they bind purchasers despite not being entered on the regis-
ter. Why are they allowed? The Law Commission14 has explained that ‘interests should be
overriding where protection against purchasers is needed, yet it is either not reasonable
to expect or not sensible to require any entry on the register’. Yet this by itself overlooks
another vitally important factor: can we expect purchasers to discover the interest? Any
legal system requires a balance to be established between the needs of interest holders
and the needs of purchasers. The registration system firmly shifts that balance in favour
of purchasers, but overriding interests provide the principal guard against going too far.
They form a safety valve against excessive rigidity of the registration system. Too rigid a
system may induce the courts to find exceptions in order to avoid what are perceived as
14
Law Com No 158, para 2.6.
116
unjust outcomes. Such exceptions may be more uncertain and capricious than a well-
thought-out category of overriding interests.
Schedule 3 of the 2002 Act lists a large number of overriding interests. Many of them
are esoteric and archaic, but several of those will be abolished in 2013 (human rights
considerations required time to be allowed for entering them on the register). This was
part of a concerted effort in 2002 to limit overriding interests as far as possible. This is
reflected in the new rule that, once an overriding interest is protected on the register, it
loses for ever its status as an overriding interest.
We will consider three forms of overriding interest, all of them mainstream property
interests. Paragraph 2, which covers interests of those in actual occupation, is the most
controversial and will be discussed as a ‘Critical and controversial issue’. Suffice at this
stage to observe two related points. The first is that, in many cases, the interest has arisen
informally by a resulting or constructive trust on the purchase of a family home. The bene- 10
ficiary, almost always ignorant of the law involved, cannot be expected to place an entry
Priorities
on the register. The second point is that we can expect purchasers, who are normally
legally advised, to inspect the land and make basic inquiries of occupiers. It is therefore
reasonable for the law to protect the occupier against a purchaser who has failed to make
inquiries.
Paragraph 1 covers leases not exceeding seven years. We have already seen that there
are good reasons for not making short leases registrable. Many of the same reasons
explain why it shouldn’t be necessary to protect them on the register and, as a con-
sequence, why they should be overriding interests. There is, perhaps, a stronger case
for requiring leases over three years (those which require a deed) to be protected by way
of notice, but a reduction from 21 years to seven years in 2002 was probably as large a
change as could be made at one go. In any event, we have seen that it is expected that
the law will change in the coming years so that leases over three years will have to be
registered.
Only legal leases fall within paragraph 1.15 Many leases (including all those over three
years) have to be created by deed. Failure to use a deed means that the lease can, at best,
be an equitable lease. It therefore cannot fall within paragraph 1, even if it is for seven
years or less. However, it will fall within paragraph 2 if the tenant is in actual occupation.
We have already seen that future leases and discontinuous leases have to be registered,
regardless of their length. It comes as no surprise that they cannot be overriding interests
within paragraph 1.
The third overriding interest is a legal easement: paragraph 3. The position of ease-
ments in registered land is quite complex. Express easements are registrable dispositions,
as discussed above. It follows that if they are not registered then they cannot be legal.
This means that they cannot fall within paragraph 3, which is explicitly limited to legal
easements. However, when we study easements we will see that they can be created in
a variety of ways. They can be implied, whether by common law rules or statute, and
they can arise by reason of long use (prescription). Because there is no conscious act of
creation for these easements, the chances of registration are minimal. Unless they were
15
City Permanent BS v Miller [1952] Ch 840.
117
to be accepted as overriding interests, these easements would rarely affect purchasers.

They are therefore exempted from the normal registration requirements and fall within
paragraph 3. The result can also be supported as easements are frequently necessary to
enable efficient land use, with relatively little effect on the burdened land.
Does this mean that purchasers may be bound by easements that are virtually
impossible to discover? Paragraph 3 provides some protection against this. It is well
intentioned, but very limited in scope. The purchaser is protected if the easement is
not ‘obvious on a reasonably careful inspection of the land’. This looks promising, but it
does not apply in three cases. The first is where the purchaser is aware of it – fair enough.
More serious is that it is inapplicable if the right has been exercised in the past year.
It is difficult to comprehend how a purchaser should be aware of a right that was last
exercised 11 months ago! However, it is a warning to holders of non-exercised easements
that it would be wise to register them. Even more telling is a separate provision16
that those implied and prescriptive easements which existed in 2002 remain overriding
interests. The huge majority of non-exercised easements are likely to be older ones and
this means that the protection for purchasers will have little practical effect for many
years in the future.
Priority rules
Having considered the various types of interest, we can now investigate the application
of priority rules to them. What happens if Andrew contracts to sell to Brian (who places
no entry on the register), but then contracts to sell to Caroline (who protects her estate
contract by entering a notice) and then leases the land to Davina for ten years (Davina
registers her lease). These transactions are inconsistent with each other and we need
some way to decide who wins.
Let us start with Davina’s registered lease. The protection of registered dispositions is
established by LRA section 29. This enacts that a registered interest defeats any prior
claim unless it is ‘protected’. Claims are protected for the purposes of section 29 if they
are protected by notice or are overriding interests. This means that Davina is bound by
Caroline’s contract, but not by Brian’s unprotected contract. Section 29 establishes that,
leaving aside overriding interests, Davina can rely upon the register being conclusive.
We should note a few points. Only those giving consideration are protected. If there
were a gift of a lease to Davina, she would have been bound by Brian’s contract. The
registration system exists to benefit purchasers rather than donees (who pay a much
reduced fee for registration). Next, and vitally important, it is only registered dispositions
– legal interests listed in section 27 – that are protected by section 29. Caroline, despite
protecting her interest by notice, does not hold a registered disposition: estate contracts
are not registrable dispositions. Accordingly, Caroline receives no priority over Brian’s
contract. This is the reason why we have to be so careful in distinguishing registered
interests from protected minor interests. A third point is that interests protected by
restriction are not ‘protected’ for the purposes of section 29. In the rare event that
16
118
the restriction is not complied with by the land registry, then the interest will not bind a
purchaser.
How does the system deal with forgeries? Two situations are clear. If Francis forges
a transfer of Graham’s registered land to himself and is registered, nobody supposes
that Francis can rely on his own fraudulent act, despite his being registered as proprietor.
The second situation is where Francis forges a transfer of Graham’s land to Henrietta,
who is entirely innocent and is registered. Henrietta later transfers the land to Ivy (again
innocent and registered). This time it is clear that Ivy wins. Any claim that Graham might
have against Henrietta falls within section 29: at the time of Ivy’s purchase it is a prior
unprotected claim, which is defeated by her registered disposition (always assuming that
Graham cannot claim an overriding interest).
The final forgery situation is the problematic one. In the Francis, Graham and Henrietta
example, assume that Henrietta is still the registered proprietor. Can she, innocent of any 10
wrongdoing, claim a good title? Unlike Ivy, Henrietta has not relied upon the register –
Priorities
rather, she has been duped into thinking that Francis is the registered proprietor,
Graham. The register is perfectly accurate when she purchases: Graham is the proprietor.
It is not an easy question to decide whether we should protect the current registered
proprietor who has paid for the benefits of registration or whether we should take the
approach that the system is not to blame for her being taken in. Registration systems in
other countries tend to protect the purchaser,17 but in England the position has received
little attention. It is not easy, however, to spell out any protection from the wording of
section 29 and one case18 on the pre-2002 law held there to be no protection. Some
prominent lawyers19 have, nevertheless, argued that the purchaser is protected; we need
a further case to settle the question. It might be added that the losing party is likely to
receive compensation from the land registry under the statutory indemnity scheme
(discussed below).
A different and particularly controversial issue concerns the effect of section 29 if a pur-
chaser is fraudulent or not in good faith. This is discussed as a ‘Critical and controversial
issue’, though it seems that good faith is not a requirement today.
So far we have dealt with the priority rules for registered dispositions. Priority disputes
between other interests (two minor interests, for example) are dealt with by a simple first
in time rule: LRA, section 28. It should be noted that the combination of sections 28 and
29 leaves no scope for the old priority rules.
Section 28 explains why, in our earlier example, Brian has priority over Caroline, despite
her having protected her estate contract. Caroline may feel that she is short-changed by
the system. That she checks the register, discovers no entry by Brian and places an entry
on the register counts for nothing. There is a strong argument that people such as
Caroline deserve greater protection, even if that would blur the distinction between
17
Frazer v Walker [1967] 1 AC 569 (New Zealand, which employs the Torrens registration system encoun-
tered in several Commonwealth countries).
18
Malory Enterprises Ltd v Cheshire Homes (UK) Ltd [2002] Ch 216 at [65].
19
Notably Harpum in Getzler (ed.), Rationalizing Property, Equity and Trusts, pp. 197–202 and Cooke
[2004] Conv 482 at pp. 485–6. More recently (and fully), see Hill-Smith [2009] Conv 127.
119
registrable and minor interests. However, the position will change relatively soon. When
e-conveyancing (discussed in Chapter 7) becomes compulsory, there will usually be no
interest without an entry on the register. It will follow that Brian will have no interest (or
even contract). Because Caroline is the first to protect her interest, it will also be the first
to exist. Even if Brian later protects his contract, it will not be first in time.
Sometimes, two interests may arise at what seems the same time. For all priority rules,
it is important to establish which comes first. The problem usually involves the priority of
a charge, when the money lent is necessary for the land to be bought (often called an
acquisition mortgage). The following example is based on the facts of Abbey National BS
v Cann.20 George owns a house on trust for himself and Daisy (his mother). They sell that
house and buy a cheaper one, for which a small mortgage loan (less than the loan on
the old house) is necessary. The new house is registered in George’s name. Later, there is
a dispute between the mortgage bank and Daisy when George becomes bankrupt. Daisy
claims an overriding interest based on actual occupation. There are several reasons
why her claim will run into difficulty,21 but what is the time order between her beneficial
interest and the bank’s charge? It looks as though they arise at the same time: when
the new house is bought. The House of Lords held that an acquisition mortgage always
comes first. This makes sense in a typical case where the borrowed money accounts for
nearly all the purchase price, but it looks overly favourable towards the bank on the
facts of Cann. After all, the house could not have been bought without Daisy putting in
her share of the proceeds from the sale of the old house; this was just as important as
the bank’s contribution.
When things go wrong: alteration and indemnity

In any bureaucratic system, things sometimes go wrong. Alteration of the register, gov-
erned by LRA, Schedule 4, copes with these problems. There are two forms of alteration.
The first, which we will call ‘simple alteration’, is where the register fails to reflect legal
rights. Suppose Kathleen is registered as proprietor of land that really belongs to Liam.
Liam is in actual occupation, so his ownership rights bind Kathleen by virtue of an over-
riding interest. Liam may have the register altered to enter him as the proprietor: this
recognises his existing rights.
The second form of alteration is much more interesting: an alteration that changes
current rights. The 2002 Act calls this rectification (before 2002, all forms of alteration
were called rectification). When is rectification allowed? The 2002 Act provides the test
of a ‘mistake’. What is a mistake? The Law Commission’s proposals provide almost no
examples. Forgery of a transfer to the current proprietor might be one, but we have seen
that it is dubious whether the proprietor is protected in the first place (if not, then it will
be simple alteration). Could there be rectification against a subsequent proprietor (some-
body who purchases from the current proprietor)? It seems clear that rectification is not
20
[1991] 1 AC 56.
21
Especially that she has consented to the charge and that she may not be in actual occupation at the
time of purchase.
120
available: the mistake has to be in the immediate registration of the proprietor against
whom rectification is sought.22
The most likely example of a mistake is where the wrong person is registered as pro-
prietor on first registration. There may then be rectification to restore the rightful owner
as proprietor. However, the proprietor in possession is protected against rectification
unless the proprietor has been careless or it would be ‘unjust’ not to rectify.23 It might be
added that the meaning of ‘possession’ is extended by LRA section 131, so that, for
example, a landlord is treated as being in possession if a tenant is there and a trustee is
treated as being in possession if a beneficiary is there.
Rectification is an important topic because, like overriding interests, it qualifies the
guarantee given to the registered proprietor: the register is that much less reliable.
However, it seems that the modern scope of mistake and rectification is quite limited
apart from first registration of land. In any event, a proprietor who loses because of 10
rectification may receive an indemnity.
Priorities
We can now turn to indemnity: compensation paid by the land registry under LRA,
Schedule 8. Errors are inevitably made and around 1,300 payments are made annually
(relating to over 4 to 5 million dealings and registrations). Often, these errors cause no
loss to anybody, but take time to sort out. Compensation is payable for expenses in such
cases. More interesting are claims for losses caused by mistakes (the basis for rectifica-
tion) or rectification. The following example illustrates how the principles operate.
Samantha is by mistake registered as the first proprietor of land belonging to Tabitha.
The land now belongs to Samantha, but we have seen that Tabitha may have a claim for
rectification. If rectification is ordered then Samantha will be compensated. However, if
the rectification claim fails (perhaps because Samantha is in possession) then Tabitha will
be compensated. It follows that whoever loses will receive financial compensation,
though any lack of care may exclude or reduce the compensation payable.
Indemnity is a great benefit of registered land. It avoids the all-or-nothing approach
that is usually encountered in disputes over rights to land. However, it is limited to recti-
fication and mistakes giving rights to rectification. The most important result of this
is that a proprietor bound by an overriding interest gets nothing. Such cases will give
rise to simple alteration, not rectification: the proprietor is already bound before the
alteration. In the 1980s, it was proposed that compensation should be payable when a
purchaser is bound by an undiscovered overriding interest: a significant increase in
the protection of purchasers. Perhaps unfortunately, the open-ended nature of such pay-
ments caused strong land registry objections and the proposal was dropped. The current
level of indemnity payments is usually around £10 million, around two to three per cent
of land registry income. It has increased sharply to this level over the past few years, largely
a result of large frauds (covering more than half the cost). Overall, the figures show both
that relatively few errors are made and that the requirements to qualify for indemnity
are quite strict.
22
Barclays Bank plc v Guy [2008] 2 EGLR 74. The Court of Appeal had adopted this approach before the
2002 Act: Norwich & Peterborough BS v Steed [1993] Ch 116.
23
121

● Purchasers with actual notice
It has been seen that a registered disposition defeats an earlier unprotected interest.
Does this still apply if the purchaser is fraudulent or in bad faith, or knows about the
unprotected interest? Another question is whether personal obligations affect purchasers.
Personal obligations are explained below, but one simple example is where the purchaser
is in breach of a contractual duty. Their significance is that they provide non-proprietary
routes to attacking a registered purchaser.
Actual knowledge and lack of good faith

The role of actual knowledge and lack of good faith has provoked much debate. Different
countries adopt differing approaches, showing that the arguments are not completely
one-sided. It is tempting to argue that registration should replace only constructive
notice, there being no good reason to protect those who are actually aware of unpro-
tected interests. A purchaser can scarcely be said to have been misled by the register
when he knows about an unprotected interest. Yet it is clear that actual knowledge is not
cut and dried: it cannot easily be separated from constructive notice. Is it enough that
the purchaser has overheard a rumour? Or that they are aware of a claim that is hotly
denied by the seller? Or that they are aware of a claim but believe it to be unfounded
and certain to be rejected by the seller as baseless? An actual knowledge test looks likely
to cause more problems than it solves!
A stronger argument is that good faith should be required. Actual knowledge would
point against good faith, though good faith might still be found in the examples in the
previous paragraph. Before the 2002 Act, at least one controversial case24 held that good
faith was required. Perhaps the major problem with a good-faith test lies in knowing what
it means. Good faith is a very fluid concept and may be thought inappropriate for an area
in which a lawyer needs to be able to give unambiguous advice to a potential purchaser.
The problems were exaggerated because the old legislation was explicit that purchasers
were not affected by actual knowledge of unprotected claims – this could not easily be
reconciled with a good-faith test. Nevertheless, most commentators favoured a require-
ment that the purchaser be in good faith.
The Law Commission25 considered the question and came down very firmly in favour
of protecting the purchaser, regardless of knowledge or the absence of good faith. The
point was reasonably made that the issue had given rise to very few cases and so could
not be seen as very serious. The policy is to enable purchasers to rely on the register,
whereas interest holders who fail to place an entry on the register have only themselves
to blame. This chimes with the view of the House of Lords in a land charges case26 that
requiring good faith would be undesirable as it ‘would bring with it the necessity of
24
Peffer v Rigg [1977] 1 WLR 285.
25
Law Com No 254, paras 3.44–6.
26
Midland Bank Trust Co Ltd v Green [1981] AC 513 at p. 530.
122
inquiring into the purchaser’s motives and state of mind’. It may be added that the prob-
lem will be much reduced when electronic conveyancing becomes compulsory. At that
time, many unregistered interests will simply not exist – there will be nothing that could
bind the registered purchaser.
How are the views of the Law Commission reflected in the 2002 Act? It is a little
disappointing that the Act is silent on the question. However, nothing in the drafting of
the legislation (which is materially different from the 1925 Act) suggests that actual
notice or bad faith could be relevant. That, combined with the very clear views of the
Law Commission, should be conclusive.
Fraud
Is it different if there is fraud? The line between fraud and absence of good faith may be
difficult to draw, but it is unattractive to argue that a fraudulent purchaser should be able 10
to rely on the register. In other contexts, statutory provisions have been held inapplicable
Priorities
in the face of fraud. It is frequently said that ‘fraud unravels all’. More specifically, fraud
was held to affect a purchaser of registered land in Lyus v Prowsa Developments Ltd.27
Registration systems in other countries place much emphasis on fraud. Though Torrens28
registration systems in the Commonwealth generally go much further than we do in
protecting purchasers, they make an explicit exception for fraud.
Personal obligations
Any difficulty over fraud may be sidestepped by arguing that fraud gives rise to a per-
sonal obligation affecting the purchaser, the topic to which we now turn. The basic idea
is that a registered disposition defeats unprotected property rights, but has no effect on
other, personal obligations. Take this simple example. Ursula contracts to sell registered
land to Vernon. Vernon in turn contracts to sell to Walter. At that stage, the title is trans-
ferred to Vernon, who is registered. Can Vernon argue that Walter’s estate contract is
defeated because it is not entered on the register? It would be monstrous if Vernon could
get out of his own contract this way and it seems almost certain that he cannot. This may
be explained in two ways. First, Walter is relying on a contract rather than any form of
property – he is suing on an obligation entered into by Vernon. More technically, LRA
section 29 protects purchasers against ‘any interest affecting the estate immediately before
the disposition’. Walter’s contract affects Vernon, rather than Ursula’s registered estate.
Personal obligations have been discussed in Torrens cases and periodical literature, but
they have been conspicuous by their absence from English registration cases. Fortunately,
they are recognised and approved by the Law Commission.29 However, what counts as a
personal obligation is a difficult question. Obligations willingly accepted by the purchaser
(as with Vernon’s promise) cause no difficulty, but what about other forms of liability?
We will take two examples.
27
[1982] 1 WLR 1044.
28
The name comes from the Premier of South Australia who first introduced land registration.
29
Law Com No 254, paras 3.48–49 (less directly addressed by Law Com No 271, but see paras 4.11 and
7.7, n 31).
123
In the first, Rosalind contracts to sell to Sara, who does not protect her interest.
Rosalind then transfers the land to Tamara, aware of that contract, who registers the
transfer. LRA section 29 tells us that Tamara defeats Sara’s unprotected estate contract.
Yet it seems likely that Tamara is liable to Sara under the tort of inducing breach of con-
tract. The second example involves Rosalind holding on trust for Sara, who again fails to
place an entry on the register. Rosalind then sells the land to Tamara, aware of the trust,
who registers her transfer. Section 29 again defeats Sara, but this time she may argue that
Tamara is subject to a constructive trust based on unconscionable receipt.30
The result in each of these examples has the effect of reversing the section 29 protec-
tion. The source of the liability is personal rather than proprietary, but this is unlikely to
impress the purchaser! It seems strange for the Law Commission to place so much stress
on the need to protect purchasers regardless of knowledge or bad faith and then to
accept that a personal obligation reverses that protection. Some will think that the
section 29 protection is too wide and therefore welcome this personal liability. However,
there is always the risk that these forms of liability may be extended. It should provide
pause for thought that the origins of the doctrine of notice lay in a concept of personal
liability for unconscionable conduct. Few would wish to resurrect notice in the guise of
personal liability! It is revealing that Australian courts31 have declined to apply personal
liability when the purchaser is not the primary wrongdoer. They recognise the potential
for proprietary and personal liability principles to clash and strive to provide a reasoned
solution.
When we describe liability as personal, what exactly does this mean? So far, we have
concentrated on the source of the liability. However, liability may also be personal in the
sense that, though Tamara is affected, a future purchaser from Tamara would not be. Yet
there may be an argument that some personal obligations may give rise to a proprietary
interest. A contract to sell land would be an example, though not tort liability for indu-
cing breach of contract.
We should not leave this area without stressing that there are almost no recent
English cases directly on the area. It is as uncertain as it is controversial. Nevertheless,
it would be overly superficial to treat the priorities rule in section 29 as the last word on
the matter.
● Actual occupation
The interest of a person in actual occupation is an overriding interest (LRA, Sched 3,
para 2), which will bind a registered purchaser. This provision, which long pre-dated the
2002 Act, received almost no attention until the 1950s. Since then, it has become the
most litigated and disputed aspect of the entire system.
We first consider the scope of the overriding interest and then assess its role within
land registration.
30
The test recognised in BCCI (Overseas) Ltd v Akindele [2001] Ch 437 at p. 455.
31
Farah Constructions Pty Ltd v Say-Dee Pty Ltd (2007) 230 CLR 89 (High Court of Australia).
124
The interest
Actual occupation is not itself an overriding interest. Instead, it is the interest of the occu-
pier which binds a purchaser. It follows that we always have to ask two questions: is there
actual occupation, and does the occupier have an interest?32 The interests that count are
those which are generally recognised as binding purchasers: there is no special list for
registered land. To take one example, it is generally thought that contractual licences
(permissions to enter land) are not proprietary interests and do not bind purchasers
(see Chapter 15). It is irrelevant that the licensee is in actual occupation of the land –
the licence still will not bind purchasers.
It has been argued33 that all claims of occupiers should bind purchasers. This would be
a radical change and there is no sign of its gaining acceptance. This seems well justified:
it would lead to too much uncertainty as to what to look for when buying land. That said,
there may be scope for more cautious developments of the range of interests recognised 10
as proprietary. One of the reasons for restricting the range of property interests lies in the
Priorities
difficulty in discovering them. This may not be such a problem where there is actual
occupation and inquiry is made of the occupier.
Actual occupation: its meaning

First, we need to consider why we protect actual occupation and whether this can be
justified today: the answers influence the interpretation of actual occupation. Some have
said that the register is designed to replace the title deeds of unregistered land. Just as a
purchaser of unregistered land had to inspect deeds and the land, so also should a pur-
chaser of registered land need to inspect the register and the land. Many lawyers have
observed similarities between constructive notice from occupation and paragraph 2
(actual occupation). The doctrine of notice may be obsolete in registered land, but its
influence can be seen in paragraph 2.
These mainly historical explanations provide a short-sighted view of what the registra-
tion system should aspire to in the twenty-first century. Today, we invest the register with
greater significance than simply replacing title deeds. More important is the justification
of overriding interests as those which it is not reasonable to require to be protected on
the register. Many of the cases involve resulting or constructive trusts of the family home.
A typical case would be where Robert and Susan buy a home together, but the legal title
is put into Robert’s name only. They both pay the mortgage instalments, which will
almost certainly lead to a constructive trust whereby Robert holds on trust for himself and
Susan. Robert borrows money from Terrific Bank to cover his gambling debts and charges
the land to secure the debt; the charge is registered. To expect Susan to protect her
interest is plainly unrealistic. On the other hand, it is realistic to expect purchasers and
chargees to inspect the land.
Discussion of what suffices as actual occupation is split into two parts: the nature of
the test and how it is applied to individual cases. Especially when looking at the older
32
National Provincial Bank Ltd v Ainsworth [1965] AC 1175.
33
Tee [1998] CLJ 328.
125
cases, we need to bear in mind a new provision in the 2002 Act: purchasers are not
bound if the ‘occupation would not have been obvious on a reasonably careful inspec-
tion of the land’ (assuming no knowledge of the occupier’s interest).
The nature of the test

Sometimes there is an innocent explanation for actual occupation. Is this relevant? Taking
Robert and Susan, it is not as if Susan’s occupation looks inconsistent with Robert’s owner-
ship. We expect Robert’s wife/girlfriend to be living with him. This issue arose in the
leading case on the area: Williams & Glyn’s Bank Ltd v Boland.34 The facts were very similar
to our example: the occupier was the wife of the proprietor and the registered charge
secured a loan to the husband’s business. The House of Lords expressed no hesitation in
holding that the words of the legislation mean what they say. If we can describe the wife
as being in actual occupation, then the overriding interest applies. Given that the land
was the wife’s home, the only conceivable answer was that she was in actual occupation.
A more general question is how far actual occupation should be influenced by the
doctrine of notice as it applies to occupation. This point was also raised in Boland. Lord
Wilberforce, delivering the principal judgment, was clear: ‘the law as to notice as it may
affect purchasers of unregistered land . . . has no application even by analogy to regis-
tered land’. Even though actual occupation may be historically based on the doctrine
of notice, it provides a new and independent test. We should remember that the un-
certainties of notice caused real problems. Actual occupation may not always be easy
to apply, but it is based on physical acts rather than what people should do; its operation
is more predictable.
It is surprising that, a few years later, the Court of Appeal in Lloyds Bank plc v Rosset35
stated that, in addition to actual occupation, the test was whether ‘appropriate inquiries
made by the bank [would] have elicited the fact of her interest’. Though this seems to fly
in the face of Boland, the clash is not as significant as it might seem. In Boland, it was
plain that the wife was in actual occupation. In other cases, matters are by no means as
settled. Thus in Rosset the wife was supervising building work on a semi-derelict house.
It is not obvious that this counts as actual occupation. When actual occupation is not clear-
cut, it seems quite appropriate to consider how obvious the occupation is to a purchaser.
On the facts, the Court of Appeal split 2:1 in holding that there was actual occupation.
Since the 2002 Act, purchasers have been protected if the occupation is not obvious.
This protection is likely to take the heat out of the older clash between the pre-2002
cases, though one may doubt whether many (or even any) of them would be differently
decided under the 2002 Act. The Law Commission is emphatic that the new law does
not embody the doctrine of notice: it is the occupation that has to be obvious rather than
that there be notice of the interest. Even so, it is designed to deal with the genuine con-
cern that purchasers should not be bound unless they can be expected to discover the
interest. The modern stress is on balancing the protection of the occupier against the
34
[1981] AC 487.
35
[1989] Ch 350 (in the House of Lords [1991] AC 107 it was held that the wife in fact had no benefi-
cial interest in the first place).
126
need to protect purchasers against hidden interests. This balancing, of course, applies to
all overriding interests.
The application of the test

Living in a house is actual occupation, but what else suffices? The nature of the premises
is important. In Rosset, it was easier to find actual occupation because the house was
semi-derelict. It would be the similar if the couple had been building a house on a vacant
plot. In a more recent case on derelict land, it was held that minor acts of storage and
fencing sufficed.36 Parking of cars has come up in two cases. In Epps v Esso Petroleum Co
Ltd,37 the claimant parked a car on a strip of land that looked as though it belonged to
his neighbour. It was held that this sort of conduct was insufficient. By contrast, in Kling
v Keston Properties Ltd 38 the claimant parked his car in a garage. This was held to be
actual occupation. One can see a real distinction between the cases. People do com- 10
monly park on vacant pieces of land – there isn’t anything in this conduct that looks as
Priorities
though any sort of interest is being claimed. On the other hand, people do not normally
park in others’ garages – this is more properly to be considered as occupation.
Occupation of houses sometimes poses problems. One of the most difficult pre-2002
cases is Kingsnorth Finance Co Ltd v Tizard.39 A wife had left the family home, but returned
most days to help look after the children. She kept clothes at the house and occasionally
slept there if her estranged husband was away. The trial judge held that this counted as
actual occupation. One has the feeling that the purchaser is being expected to play the
role of a private detective in discovering such occupation. It would not be surprising if a
court were to say that, under the 2002 Act, her occupation was not obvious on a reason-
ably careful inspection.
A related point is that it does not suffice simply to have furniture and other things on
the premises. In Strand Securities Ltd v Caswell,40 a claimant allowed his stepdaughter to
occupy a flat rent-free. That his furniture was there was not enough to protect him. The
court in Caswell accepted that one can occupy through another person such as a care-
taker (or a builder, as in Rosset). However, it wasn’t enough just to give a licence to the
stepdaughter: she was not occupying on the claimant’s behalf.
Actual physical presence is not always required. The striking facts of Chhokar v
Chhokar 41 provide a good example. While his wife was in hospital having a baby, the pro-
prietor (husband) transferred the land to a purchaser. By the time the wife returned
home, she found the locks had been changed. It is not surprising that Ewbank J held that
she was in actual occupation. Yet how does this differ from the furniture not being enough
in Caswell? Can we draw a distinction between furniture and clothes? That would seem
unlikely. Probably we can explain Caswell on the basis that somebody else (the step-
daughter) was allowed to replace the claimant.
36
Malory Enterprises Ltd v Cheshire Homes (UK) Ltd [2002] Ch 216 at [82].
37
[1973] 1 WLR 1071.
38
(1984) 49 P&CR 212.
39
[1986] 1 WLR 783.
40
[1965] Ch 958.
41
[1984] FLR 313.
127
Varying the facts of Chhokar provides instructive examples. Suppose the husband had
removed all his wife’s belongings before selling the house. Whether or not she was still
in actual occupation, we can say that it is not obvious on a reasonably careful inspection.
A second problem would be if the husband had brought a new girlfriend into the house.
The purchaser is told that the wife’s clothes and belongings are those of the girlfriend.
This may seem entirely plausible to a purchaser – presuming any photographs of the wife
are hidden! This is a really difficult case, one in which the outcome cannot be confidently
predicted. Occupation of somebody is obvious, but how relevant is the purchaser’s
reasonable mistake as to whose occupation it is?
A quite different question is when actual occupation starts on house purchase. It is
moderately common for purchasers to be allowed to move belongings into a house
shortly before completion of the purchase (the date of the transfer). Is there actual
occupation before completion? Normally, overriding interests have to exist at the time
of registration (some weeks after the transfer), but for actual occupation paragraph 2
specifies the time of the transfer. It would be unfortunate if minor acts before completion
or moving in a couple of minutes early were to have significant legal effects: this
would leave too much to chance. In Abbey National BS v Cann,42 the House of Lords
held that moving furniture 35 minutes in advance of completion clearly did not count.
A frequently quoted statement of Lord Oliver is that there must be ‘some degree of
permanence and continuity which would rule out mere fleeting presence’. Rosset raises
a similar point in that the purchaser had been allowed to undertake work on the land
before completion. However, the extent of the work and the lengthy period involved
(around six weeks) each justify the finding of actual occupation.
Protecting the purchaser

Paragraph 2 contains several limits on the actual occupation overriding interest. In par-
ticular, purchasers are protected if they make inquiries of the occupier and the interest is
not disclosed, when disclosure might reasonably have been expected.
This establishes a standard procedure for purchasers to follow: they should discover
occupiers and then ask them what rights they have. It is not enough to do what pur-
chasers are often tempted to do – to ask the seller why the occupier is there. This is well
illustrated by Hodgson v Marks,43 in which the seller described the occupier as a lodger.
The occupier was in fact the beneficial owner of the land and her rights bound the pur-
chaser. The inquiry must also be carefully framed. Suppose the owner of land, Larry,
leases it to Laura for five years. A year later, he contracts to sell it to her. Faced with the
question, ‘Why are you there?’, Laura may tell a purchaser about the lease, but not the
contract. Yet every interest of the occupier is an overriding interest. The purchaser will be
bound not only by the lease (paragraph 1), but also by the contract to buy the freehold.
It follows that the purchaser must ask the occupier what rights are claimed.
The reference to the reasonableness of disclosure is new in the 2002 Act. In theory,
it might have a wide effect, with all sorts of excuses being made for not disclosing the
42
[1991] 1 AC 56.
43
[1971] Ch 892.
128
interest. There are no cases so far, but the new provision seems unlikely to provide
a defence if an unequivocal inquiry has been made. One further point may be noted.
It cannot be expected that the occupier will identify their precise interest: occupiers
will be unaware of the niceties of categories of interests in land. The most that can be
expected is a general statement of a claim to the land. A statement such as ‘I have a
right to live here’ should suffice even though it reveals no specific land law interest.
The onus is then on the purchaser to dig deeper.
An occupier’s conduct may sometimes defeat their interest, despite the absence of any
inquiry. This is best explained by the following example. Sheila is the registered proprietor
of a house. She holds it on trust for herself and her partner Tim. They plan an extension to
the house, to provide more room for their children. Like most young couples, they have
virtually no savings and Sheila obtains a loan of £80,000 from a bank to cover the costs
of the building work, protected by a registered charge. Can Tim (very clearly in actual 10
occupation) claim that his beneficial interest defeats the charge? Success would mean that
Priorities
Tim would get his share of the proceeds of any sale before the bank could claim its £80,000.
The courts have held that occupiers such as Tim, for whose benefit the loan has
been obtained, must be taken to have approved the loan.44 It would be plainly wrong
to say that Sheila was acting improperly in charging the land. How else could Tim believe
that the money could be found? Even if he took no part in the financial planning (fairly
improbable) he must implicitly be permitting Sheila to raise the necessary funds by way
of a charge. Very generously to banks, the courts have held that once approval is given,
it extends to the full sum in fact borrowed.45 Suppose Sheila had actually borrowed
£150,000 and gambled away the excess £70,000. The bank would have priority as
regards the full £150,000 borrowed. It is difficult to see any justification for this.
How far does the principle extend? In Boland, the loan was for the proprietor’s busi-
ness. Both he and Mrs Boland would benefit if the business prospered. These facts came
nowhere near to approval of the mortgage. Tim, by contrast, obtains a direct benefit: a
share in a more valuable house. It might have been different if Sheila had misled Tim into
thinking that she had substantial savings – then it might not be appropriate to infer
approval of the charge. Another difficult case would be one like Boland, except that the
proprietor tells the claimant that he is planning to charge the land because the com-
pany needs the money. As in Boland, the claimant obtains no direct benefit. However, if
she expressly agrees that the house should be charged then she has authorised the charge.
The proprietor can be regarded as her agent in charging the land. If she is told of the
impending charge but fails to say anything positive or negative, that looks very borderline.
Assessing the actual occupation overriding interest

As has been repeatedly stressed, registered land has to balance the needs of interest
holders (those in actual occupation) and purchasers. Both are usually innocent parties. If
we always protect purchasers, people will be thrown out of their homes when we can-
not say that they have acted unreasonably. If we protect occupiers, we run the risk of
44
Bristol & West BS v Henning [1985] 1 WLR 778; Paddington BS v Mendelsohn (1985) 50 P&CR 244.
45
Abbey National BS v Cann [1991] AC 56 at p. 94.
129
making the purchase of land an unduly complex and risky affair. A large part of the prob-
lem is that few members of the public are aware of property rights or of registration
requirements. A massive public education exercise seems both unlikely and doomed to fail-
ure. Protecting occupiers has the advantage of taking a ‘let sleeping dogs lie’ approach:
it means that occupation is allowed to continue. It would be more palatable if the wholly
innocent purchaser were compensated, but we have seen that this is not permitted.
Against that background, it is entirely reasonable to protect purchasers if (1) the occu-
pation is not obvious or (2) an inquiry does not reveal the interest. Necessarily, care has
to be taken not to expand actual occupation to an extent which interferes too much with
the process of buying land. The objective of simple, fast and inexpensive land transfer is
an important one. The nineteenth-century doctrine of notice appeared to assume that
unlimited time and money could be expended on land purchase. We must be vigilant as
regards the risks of slipping back to that position. Yet it also has to be remembered that
purchasers, unlike the typical interest holder, almost invariably employ lawyers. It may be
reasonable to place demands on purchasers: we can rely on their lawyers complying with
them. That is no excuse for burdensome requirements, but an obligation to make inquiries
of obvious occupiers seems appropriate.
The comments above look at the issue from the point of view of the purchaser. Are all
occupiers deserving of protection? The cases mostly involve resulting or constructive
trusts of the family home: these occupiers seem thoroughly deserving. Yet any occupier
can claim the benefit of actual occupation. This includes people who could reasonably
be expected to protect their interests. An example is a person in actual occupation who
has contracted to lease or buy land, employing a lawyer for this purpose.
E-conveyancing, when introduced, is likely to provide an answer to these problems. If
compulsory electronic registration or protection is not complied with, then there will be
no interest. Remember that paragraph 2 requires both actual occupation and an interest
in land. If there is no interest because there is no electronic entry, there can be no over-
riding interest. The example of contracts to buy or lease land will disappear: without elec-
tronic entry, there will simply be no contract at all. However, it is expected that trusts will
be exempted from compulsory electronic registration and accordingly beneficial interest
under trusts will continue to fall within paragraph 2. It follows that the e-conveyancing
rules will operate to distinguish which interests are deserving of protection under para-
graph 2, though this lies some years in the future.

C AS E
in this chapter:
Abbey National Building Society v Cann [1990] 1 All ER 1085 A
R
N
V I G AT O
Williams & Glyn’s Bank Ltd v Boland [1980] 2 All ER 408 POWERED BY
130
RIGHTS TO ENJOY LAND

Part 3

11 Successive and
concurrent ownership

n many simple cases, land will be owned by one person. In more technical terms,
I we would say that Andrew holds the fee simple absolute in possession. However, it is
possible for ownership of land to be split between two or more people, something which
is made easier by the doctrine of estates. Thus Brian might have a life interest (a right to
enjoy the land for life) and Carla a fee simple thereafter; this is an example of successive
interests. More frequently, two people may own land together, as where a couple buy a
home. We describe these as concurrent interests (or co-ownership). All these rights may
be created as regards either freehold or leasehold land. For example, a couple may jointly
hold a lease. It is not unusual for successive and concurrent interests to be combined. Thus
a man might leave the family home by will ‘to my widow Audrey for life, remainder to
my children Brenda and Carolyn’. Here Brenda and Carolyn are co-owners of the fee
simple. Because their interest is effective (‘in possession’) only on Audrey’s death, until
then it is described as being in remainder.
The present chapter considers the forms of successive and concurrent ownership and
their incidents. We also give some consideration to their creation. These interests are
usually created expressly or by implication on the purchase of the family home; nothing
further needs to be said about that. However, there is a choice between two forms of
concurrent interests and we investigate which is created.
An important issue concerns the operation and regulation of successive and concurrent
interests. What happens if the parties cannot agree as to whether the property should be
sold or who should occupy it? To deal with issues of this nature, a trust is imposed when-
ever there are successive or concurrent interests. This trust is regulated by legislation,
which confers on the court a broad discretion to resolve disputes. The trust is also the
basis for enabling sale and protecting purchasers. Trusts of land form the subject matter
of Chapter 12.
How important are successive and concurrent interests? Prior to the First World War,
a large proportion of the land in the country was held by wealthy families. Complex trusts
conferred successive interests on generations of the family. This was, indeed, the heart of
nineteenth-century land law. The decline in this role of those wealthy families, coupled
133
Main issues and rules: successive interests
with the ever increasing economic importance of property other than land, means that
successive interests have lost their central role of a century or two ago. The twentieth
century witnessed a huge expansion of owner-occupation of the family home, covering
over 70 per cent of homes today. Especially since the Second World War, a large propor-
tion of these homes have been co-owned. In part, this results from both partners in a
relationship being employed and so able to contribute to mortgage costs. The law dealing
with such a large number of homes is clearly of huge importance.

● What interests are recognised?
Today, the two freehold estates are the life interest and the fee simple. Most settle-
ments (the term usually used for successive interests) involve some combination of these
interests. The picture is more complex if an interest is made contingent on satisfying
some requirement (to Jane at the age of 21) or terminable on some event occurring (to
Mark until he takes up smoking).
In the past, many settlements included an entail. An entail (or fee tail) would last as
long as the initial holder had descendants, descent being to the eldest male child (the
traditional descent rule). Suppose a settlement gives Andrew an entail, with Biruntha hold-
ing the fee simple in remainder. Andrew dies, leaving a daughter and a son who themselves
never have children. The entail passes to Andrew’s son, even if younger than his sister.
When he dies, the entail goes to the daughter. When she dies, there are no longer any
descendants of Andrew and the entail terminates; the land goes to Biruntha. Surprisingly,
an entail could sometimes be converted into a fee simple (‘barring’ the entail) and thereby
last forever. Entails became increasingly rare and the Trusts of Land and Appointment of
Trustees Act 1996 prohibited new entails. This may be welcomed: the entail was highly
complex and the descent rules failed to match the wishes of most modern settlors.
Terminable interests merit further discussion. There are two different forms: the
conditional interest and the determinable interest. The conditional interest involves
a condition subsequent; this is to be contrasted with a condition precedent, which
creates a contingent interest. An example of a conditional interest would be ‘to Sarah,
on condition that she does not take up smoking’. The idea is that the grantor gives the full
interest and then seeks to cut it short on a specified event. By contrast, in a determinable
interest the grantor defines from the start what the grantee is to take: ‘to Tamara until
she takes up smoking’. This could well be seen as a distinction without a difference.
Having these two very similar forms of interest might not matter too much if they were
governed by the same rules or performed very different roles. In fact, their roles seem the
same. To the law’s discredit, some of the events permitted for determinable fees are not
allowed for conditional fees. The reason for this is that the law disapproves of the idea of
forfeiture involved in conditional fees. For example, a gift to Andy on condition that
he does not marry is void, whereas a gift to Belinda until she marries is valid. Another
distinction is that greater certainty is required for conditional fees. Finally, failure of a
134
condition leads to the grantee obtaining the interest granted whereas a failed deter-
minable interest is wholly ineffective. A gift to Carla until she gives up prostitution (deter-
minable fee) is wholly void: Carla gets nothing. A gift to Carla on condition that she does
not give up prostitution (conditional fee) leaves Carla with the fee simple absolute. None
of these points seems to make any practical sense.
The law regarding determinable and conditional fees is all too easy to mock. The
examples show how a well-advised grantor can choose which to employ. There is no
point in the law striking down gifts which can be validly made by a slight change of
wording. It is unsurprising that the area has been judicially described as ‘little short of
disgraceful to our jurisprudence’.1
● Creation of successive interests 11

Virtually nothing needs to be said. The normal formalities for setting up trusts of land
Successive and concurrent ownership

apply: a deed for transfer of the legal estate and writing for creating beneficial interests.
In the past, particular words (called words of limitation) had to be used to create the various
estates. These rules no longer operate and today it is simply a matter of construction of
the words used.
● Vesting and perpetuity rules

The law has long prevented landowners from controlling who gets the land many years
in the future. The ‘dead hand’ of the settlor should not be allowed to determine entitle-
ment after several generations. The rules depend upon the time of vesting. An interest is
‘vested in possession’ when it is currently being enjoyed: the holder is in physical pos-
session or receives rent. It is said to be ‘vested in interest’ when the future holder is
identified, no condition has to be fulfilled, but a prior interest stops it from being
currently enjoyed. Take the following example: ‘to my widow Mary for life, remainder to
my eldest son John (aged six) provided that he qualifies as a doctor’. Though we know
who John is, his interest cannot be vested as he has yet to qualify as a doctor: he is said
to have a contingent (or executory) interest. Suppose John qualifies as a doctor, Mary still
being alive, at the age of 24. His remainder then vests in interest. It is only when Mary
dies that his interest can be said to vest in possession.
The perpetuity rules (which apply to all property) depend on the date of vesting in
interest. They are too detailed for treatment in an introductory book, but their essence
was that vesting could be postponed for one generation plus 21 years. Accordingly, a
gift to Fred’s children at 21 was valid, whereas a gift to Harriet’s grandchildren was void.2
Statute relaxed the common law, so Harriet’s grandchildren could take if they were born
within 21 years of her death. The Perpetuities and Accumulations Act 20093 sweeps away
the present rules, replacing them with the far simpler rule that vesting must occur within
1
Porter MR in Re King’s Trusts (1892) 29 LR Ir 401 at p. 410.
2
Assuming Harriet is alive.
3
Based on Law Com No 251.
135
Main issues and rules: concurrent interests
125 years; if necessary, we can wait to see whether this happens, similar to the example
of Harriet’s grandchildren. In any event, relatively few modern settlors want to tie up land
for many generations in the future.
● The operation of the interests

This area is today the province of trusts of land. One point, however, concerns the rights
and duties of the holder of a life interest. The rules governing waste established their
rights and obligations. In broad terms, there was no positive obligation to repair (permis-
sive waste), though there was liability for not taking proper care of the land (voluntary
waste). Today, land is managed by trustees and their obligations are determined by the
law of trusts. Some of the old waste rules remain significant because they determine
some of the rights of the holder of the life interest. This is seen in rules giving entitlement
to timber and mines, though we need not go into the details.

Co-ownership is not as simple as two or more people sharing ownership. English law
recognises two forms of co-ownership: joint tenancy and tenancy in common.
Joint tenancy possesses the peculiar feature that, when one of the holders dies, the
surviving joint tenants are entitled to the entire property. Indeed the basic concept is that
each joint tenant owns the whole; when one dies, there is simply one fewer person to
share it. This right of survivorship is useful in a number of situations. When a couple buy
a family home together, it is very likely that they will choose a joint tenancy – they will
intend the survivor to have the home. They are unlikely to want the survivor to share the
home with the deceased’s legatee. The joint tenancy is also the ideal way for trustees to
hold property: the survivors are the most appropriate trustees after one has died.
It will be obvious that the joint tenancy is not suitable for all co-owners. Two friends
buying a flat together would find it odd, as would businessmen purchasing land for their
business. The tenancy in common is available for such cases: the share of a deceased
tenant in common passes by will. A tenancy in common can be created either from the
start or at any time before the death of a joint tenant. Changing an existing joint tenancy
into a tenancy in common is termed severance.
● Joint tenancy or tenancy in common?

We will now consider which form of co-ownership is created. It is explained in the fol-
lowing chapter that, since 1925, a legal tenancy in common cannot exist as a legal
estate. All co-ownership operates under a trust of land; the choice is between equitable
joint tenancy and equitable tenancy in common.
There cannot be a joint tenancy without the four unities being present. The very
essence of joint tenancy is that each owns the whole and the four unities spell this out in
136
more detail. The four unities are unity of possession, unity of interest, unity of title and
unity of time.
Unity of possession is central to any form of co-ownership; it is the only unity required
for tenancies in common. Suppose two fields (of identical size) are shared by Emily
and Fiona. If they are entitled to one field each, there is no unity of possession and no
co-ownership. Alternatively, they might each be entitled to possession of both fields, in
which case there would be unity of possession. One point to note is that the rules relate
to entitlement rather than physical occupation. Should Emily and Fiona lease the fields
to George, that has no impact on unity of possession. Alternatively, Emily might use both
fields while Fiona lives a long distance away and never uses them. Again, this is entirely
compatible with unity of possession. It might be added that occupation rights are now
governed by legislation, dealt with in Chapter 12.
11
It is the other unities that are really important in distinguishing joint tenancies from
tenancies in common.

Unity of interest is the most important. It means that the interest held by the co-owners
must be of the same type and the same size. A life interest holder and the holder of a fee
simple cannot be joint tenants (how would survivorship work when their interests are
different?) and, more important in practice, one cannot have a one-third share and the
other a two-thirds share. Though this rule on the size of shares is very clear, it may be
doubted whether it should exist. It is not inconsistent for parties to desire survivorship,
but to have different size shares. This might be important for taxation reasons and also
as regards shares on severance; the present law is clear that joint tenants automatically
take equal shares on severance.4
Unity of title requires that the parties derive title from the same immediate document.
This is rarely a problem when co-ownership is set up. More frequently, it explains sever-
ance. Suppose that Sara and Theresa are joint tenants under a will; Sara sells her interest
to Ursula. Theresa’s immediate title is the will, whereas Ursula’s title is the sale by Sara.
There is no unity of interest between Theresa and Ursula and accordingly they are tenants
in common.
Unity of time means that the interests must vest at the same time. There are several
situations in which this unity is not required: its significance is minimal.
There cannot be a joint tenancy without all four unities. However, it has always been the
case that a tenancy in common will exist if intended by the settlor (or purchasers, if co-
ownership arises on property purchase). The tenancy in common may be express, but it
suffices for the parties to use language indicative of their having separate shares. The nature
of a tenancy in common is that the parties are regarded as having separate shares rather
than jointly owning the whole. The term undivided shares, an alternative name for the
tenancy in common, captures this well. Thus, a reference to ‘equally’, ‘in equal shares’,
‘amongst’, ‘divided’ or ‘participate’ will result in a tenancy in common. It may be thought
4
Goodman v Gallant [1986] Fam 106.
137
that the courts are leaning over backwards to find a tenancy in common; laymen are likely
to use these words (often called ‘words of severance’) in a wholly haphazard manner.
There is a presumption of a joint tenancy once all the unities are present and there are
no words of severance. However, there are several types of situation in which courts of
equity have found the presumption rebutted. This illustrates the suspicion with which
they viewed the joint tenancy, going so far as to describe it as ‘odious’.5
The first example of such an equitable presumption is where the parties contribute
differing amounts to a purchase: a tenancy in common is necessary for them to hold in
unequal shares. Also important is the presumption that business partners desire a tenancy
in common. Even if their contributions are equal, it is very unlikely that they will want
survivorship to operate. This is applied in a realistic manner. Thus businessmen who acquire
property for their separate businesses will be within the rule, even though there is no
joint business enterprise.6 Conversely, if the business partners happen to be a couple
who desire survivorship, then a joint tenancy will result. A final example of a presumed
tenancy in common relates to joint mortgagees. Two people lending money are similar
to partners and, for similar reasons, survivorship is inappropriate.
Although the preference for the joint tenancy may seem odd, the scope for finding a
contrary intention is very wide. We will consider three types of case in evaluating these
rules in the modern world. The first concerns the purchase of land in joint names. We saw
in Chapter 9 that a joint tenancy is presumed in family home purchases in joint names,
regardless of unequal contributions. The present land registry forms require the trans-
ferees to state the nature of their equitable interest: there is an explicit choice between
joint tenancy and tenancy in common. As a statement of beneficial interests is generally
conclusive,7 this means that problems are unlikely to arise in recent purchases.
Next is the situation where land is purchased by one person, but a resulting or con-
structive trust means that there is co-ownership in equity. This will usually be where a
couple (whether or not married) share ownership of property under the Gissing v Gissing 8
and Stack v Dowden 9 principles. The transfer form does not cover such cases, as no co-
ownership is apparent on the face of the transfer. If the shares are unequal, there can be
only a tenancy in common, but what if they both have a 50 per cent share so that the
four unities are present?
The cases, perhaps surprisingly, provide no clear answer. A joint tenancy might seem
appropriate because most couples opt for a joint tenancy when they address the ques-
tion. It would make sense to replicate this where they have not expressed their beneficial
interests. However, in Stack Baroness Hale observed that the cases lend no support to
there being a joint tenancy. In many cases the shares are not equal, so there can only be
a tenancy in common. It may be inappropriate to have a different outcome where the
shares happen to be equal.
5
York v Stone (1709) 1 Salk 158 (91 ER 146).
6
Malayan Credit Ltd v Jack Chia-MPH Ltd [1986] AC 549.
7
Goodman v Gallant [1986] Fam 106. The forms do not guarantee the absence of problems: Stack v
Dowden [2007] 2 AC 432 at [52].
8
[1971] AC 886.
9
[2007] 2 AC 432.
138
The third situation in which co-ownership arises is where there is a settlement or will.
It is in this setting that the presumptions and words of severance are most likely to be
relevant. The initial preference for the joint tenancy is most likely to apply, as the equitable
presumptions are not designed for this sort of case. Is the joint tenancy appropriate?
Most commonly, settlements and legacies are in favour of close family members and
survivorship may be appropriate. Even so, the arguments in favour of the joint tenancy
are not overwhelming. If a beneficiary dies, would not the grantor intend that that
beneficiary’s family (principally children) should benefit from that share, rather than the
other co-owners? The arguments are finely balanced, though very few cases have arisen
in this context in recent decades. It is scarcely a matter of pressing concern!
After looking at these examples of concurrent interests, it may be concluded that joint
tenancies will rarely be found contrary to the true intentions of the parties. There is some
attraction in the rule applied in some countries that a tenancy in common is the preferred 11
form of co-ownership. However, its practical effects would be few, at least outside settle-

ments and wills.
It is more likely that intentions will be thwarted where survivorship is intended, but a
joint tenancy cannot exist because the four unities are lacking. Arguably, the law should
take the pragmatic approach that a joint tenancy should exist whenever it is intended by
the parties and is workable. This requires the unity of possession (necessary for all forms
of co-ownership) and probably that the parties possess the same type of jointly owned
interest (fee simple or lease, for example). The remaining aspects of unity of interest
(shares must be the same) and the unities of title and time are more difficult to justify.
Their absence might indeed be a pointer against a joint tenancy, but their absence should
not be conclusive. Whereas it is true that the four unities fill out the idea of each joint
tenant owning the whole, a pragmatic modern response is that the joint tenancy should
be important only for the application of survivorship.
● Severance of joint tenancies

Joint tenants may wish to prevent survivorship. The most common example is that
survivorship will be inappropriate when a couple buy their family home as joint tenants
but then break up. Survivorship is the last thing they now desire! Virtually all the modern
cases arise from this setting.
Conversion into a tenancy in common – severance – has always been allowed. One
long-standing example is that sale by one joint tenant of his or her share severs that share.
As has been seen, the transferee does not have unity of title: this means that there can
no longer be a joint tenancy. The law might have said that a joint tenant has no ‘share’
capable of transfer, simply being entitled to the whole together with the others. No such
argument has been seriously put forward in recent centuries.
Today, severance is governed by the Law of Property Act 1925 (hereafter LPA), section
36(2). As a tenancy in common can never exist as a legal interest, it is never possible to
sever a legal joint tenancy. This is explicitly stated by section 36(2).
Section 36(2) provides two routes to sever an equitable joint tenancy. The first is a new
form of severance: notice in writing. This is designed to be a simple method for one joint
139
tenant to sever the joint tenancy unilaterally. Previously that was possible only by the
artificial route of transferring one’s share. It should be noted that section 36(2) requires
a notice in writing to be sent to the other joint tenants; it cannot be secret. A recent deci-
sion has confirmed the statutory rule that notices are effective on delivery, even if never
received by the intended recipient.10
The notice in writing provides an easy route to severance. The main problems arise
when a letter is sent without any thought being given to section 36(2). Explicit words,
like ‘I sever our joint tenancy’, are clearly effective. In practice, however, the layman is more
likely to say ‘I want the property sold’ rather than to refer to severance. Even lawyers
may write letters without thinking about severance. Though nobody would wish to see
notices of severance limited to formal legal documents, there is a real danger of having
to sift through correspondence on the off-chance that there is some reference to ‘shares’
or other language indicative of a joint tenancy.
So far the courts have taken a fairly narrow view of what suffices. Most cases have
involved the wording of court applications. Although Re Draper’s Conveyance11 held a
request for sale and division of the proceeds to be effective, more recent cases (notably
Harris v Goddard)12 have stressed the need for the notice to have immediate effect and
to refer fairly explicitly to severance: a request for the court to exercise its discretion will
not suffice.
Before leaving written notices, two limitations must be mentioned. First, they are
effective only for land. Next, the wording of section 36(2) seems to require that the same
persons be both trustees and beneficiaries. If Rosalind and Sam hold on trust for them-
selves as beneficial joint tenants then either can give written notice. However, if Andrew
and Brenda hold on trust for Catriona and Davina then this is outside the written notice
provisions. These limitations are almost impossible to justify, though it would be appro-
priate to require notice to be given to all trustees and beneficiaries.
The second route to severance is provided by the old equitable severance rules, which
section 36(2) keeps in operation. These rules are articulated in the 1861 decision in
Williams v Hensman,13 still routinely cited:
A joint tenancy may be severed in three ways: in the first place, an act of any one of the persons
interested operating upon his own share may create a severance as to that share . . . Each one
is at liberty to dispose of his own interest in such manner as to sever it from the joint fund – losing,
of course, at the same time, his own right of survivorship. Secondly, a joint tenancy may be severed
by mutual agreement. And, in the third place, there may be a severance by any course of deal-
ing sufficient to intimate that the interests of all were mutually treated as constituting a tenancy
in common. When the severance depends on an inference of this kind without any express act
of severance, it will not suffice to rely on an intention, with respect to the particular share, declared
only behind the backs of the other persons interested. You must find, in this class of cases, a
course of dealing by which the shares of all the parties to the contest have been affected . . .
10
Kinch v Bullard [1999] 1 WLR 423, applying LPA, s 196(3). On the facts, the giver of the notice had got
hold of it and destroyed it; the intended recipient could still claim severance.
11
[1969] 1 Ch 486.
12
[1983] 1 WLR 1203.
13
1 J&H 546 at pp. 557–8 (70 ER 862 at p. 867).
140
Of the three heads of severance identified, the second and third cause the greatest
difficulty. They are considered below, under ‘Critical and controversial issues’, together
with an assessment of the severance rules as a whole. The first head covers the transfer
of a beneficial interest in a joint tenancy; this has already been mentioned. Several points
about its application may be noted. Most straightforward is that a contract to sell the
interest will be as effective as an immediate transfer. This is because equity enforces
contracts relating to land and treats the purchaser as having an immediate equitable
interest. However, it must be remembered that contracts relating to land have to be
in writing;14 without writing the first head will not apply.
More difficult is the effect of transactions short of outright transfer. The effect of leases
and charges (mortgages) has given rise to debate, though there is a dearth of recent
English authority. It seems most likely that leases effect a severance for at least the dura-
tion of the lease, while most authorities assume that charges cause severance. Less prob- 11
lematic is bankruptcy. The bankrupt’s assets vest in the trustee in bankruptcy and this

is considered to effect severance.
The first head permits unilateral severance: there is no need for notice to the other
joint tenants. This is well settled: severance follows from the shattering of the unity of
title. However, it is more questionable as a matter of policy, especially where (as the law
permits) there is a transfer to oneself. First-head severance can lead to a situation where
other joint tenants believe that survivorship will operate, though in fact there is a tenancy
in common. One danger15 is that the severing joint tenant may be tempted to suppress
the severance if the others die first – a situation in which the severing joint tenant would
benefit from survivorship.
Next, we will consider the effect of severance. If Martina and Olivia are joint tenants
and Martina sells her interest to Paula, then the answer is clear: Olivia and Paula are
tenants in common. More complex is the position where there are three or more joint
tenants. An example would be Martina, Olivia and Xavier, with Martina again selling her
interest to Paula. This doubtless severs Martina’s share, but what effect does it have on
Olivia and Xavier? The answer is that they remain joint tenants as between themselves:
it is only Martina’s share that has been severed. If Paula dies, then her purchased share
passes under her will. If Olivia dies, however, her share passes by survivorship to Xavier,
who will then have a two-thirds share.
Does it make any difference if Martina transfers her interest to Olivia, already one of
the joint tenants? Though this effects severance, again the answer is that Olivia and
Xavier remain as joint tenants.16 This is shown in Figure 11.1. We may ask how a joint
tenancy can exist if Olivia has two shares. The answer is that the joint tenancy is over the
two-thirds share, not the property as a whole. Olivia has two separate interests: a severed
one-third share under a tenancy in common and a joint tenancy in the other two-thirds.
If Olivia were to be the next to die, her estate would take the severed one-third share.
The other two-thirds would be held outright (through survivorship) by Xavier.
14
Law of Property (Miscellaneous Provisions) Act 1989, s 2.
15
Crown (2001) 117 LQR 477 at p. 491 (in the context of declarations of trust as severing acts).
16
Co Litt 193a.
141
Figure 11.1 Severance by one of three joint tenants
These examples on multiple joint tenants inevitably involve considerable complexity.

Multiple joint tenants can also pose problems for severance by notice. If Alice gives notice
to Beatrice and Charlie, does this sever just Alice’s share or the entire joint tenancy? The
cases provide no answer. Severance of just Alice’s share would seem most appropriate,
whatever the wording of the notice.
Rather different is the principle that survivorship does not apply if one joint tenant
murders another. Clearly, the murderer cannot be permitted to benefit from the crime
and the courts apply public policy to say that there has been severance.17

Two areas are considered. The first concerns the operation of the second and third heads
of severance in Williams v Hensman; the second is whether we should retain the benefi-
cial joint tenancy.
● Severance by mutual agreement and course of conduct

These two heads of severance, unlike transfer of interests, are unrelated to the four unities.
Instead, they are based upon the intention of the joint tenants. They were developed by
equity, which was always distrustful of the joint tenancy and concerned to give effect to
intentions. Virtually all the modern cases involve a couple’s family home. Does the joint
tenancy continue after their relationship has broken down? It would be very unusual
for them still to want survivorship: each party will be looking to assert their own assets
in the future. Accordingly, one might expect the courts to apply severance as broadly
as possible. It must be remembered that refusal to sever cannot be employed as a
bargaining ploy: unilateral severance by written notice or transfer is always possible.
The most controversial issue is whether these two heads require both parties to intend to
sever, or whether it suffices that one party has made clear their intention to sever. Two cases
decided within a year of each other in the 1970s are central to this. Nielson-Jones v Fedden18
17
Re K [1985] Ch 85 at p. 100.
18
[1975] Ch 222.
142
involved the parties negotiating as to the future of the family home, following the break-
down of their marriage. Walton J was clear that a unilateral declaration by one joint
tenant did not sever: the older cases demonstrated that a notice in writing or a transfer
were the appropriate methods for one joint tenant to sever. Though two more recent
cases19 did point in favour of unilateral severance, Walton J demonstrated the woeful
inadequacy of their reasoning. In Nielson-Jones, the parties had agreed that the family
home should be sold to provide funds for a house for the husband. It was clear that the
parties did not intend that the new house would belong to the husband. Walton J made
the telling point that negotiations and agreement as to sale of the property are neutral
as to severance. The proceeds of sale (or a house purchased with those proceeds) could well
be subject to a joint tenancy. On the other hand, it is difficult to believe that the parties
really thought that a joint tenancy should be any part of the eventual outcome: the result
has an air of unreality about it. Despite Nielson-Jones, it should be easier to show an 11
intention to sever if the parties agree to split the proceeds between them (not the situ-

ation in Nielson-Jones). This is indicative of a tenancy in common, as it emphasises the
parties having shares rather than owning the whole.20
Burgess v Rawnsley21 was a somewhat unusual case in that it involved a more elderly
couple, whose relationship never fully blossomed. They purchased a house, on the initial
understanding that each would have a separate flat. When the man realised that marriage
was not going to happen, he orally agreed to purchase the woman’s share. If there had
been writing, this would have been a clear case of first-head severance. The Court of
Appeal accepted that the unenforceable agreement to sell could be treated as an implicit
agreement to sever – it was clear that a joint tenancy was not intended to continue. That
implicit agreement clearly fell within the second head of severance in Williams v
Hensman. But does an agreement to sever itself have to be in writing? Given the general
insistence on writing for agreements and transactions relating to land, one can see
policy arguments in favour of requiring writing. Furthermore, Australian views tend in
that direction. On the other hand, it is not apparent that an agreement to sever is
either a ‘contract for the sale or other disposition of an interest in land’ (Law of Property
(Miscellaneous Provisions) Act 1989) or a creation or disposal of an interest in land (LPA,
section 53(1)(a)). Furthermore a course of dealing (third head) can scarcely be in writing;
it would be strange if writing was required for one, but not the other, of these two heads.
In any event, Burgess clearly states that writing is not required.
Burgess also states that the third head is wider than an implied agreement to sever.
Although some earlier cases supported the opposite view, all the judges in Burgess give
the third head a distinct role. Indeed, it might be thought that the nature of the course
of dealing is that the parties assume there to be a tenancy in common, as opposed to
agreeing that there should be one. Nielson-Jones had adopted the opposite view. Can we
19
Hawkesley v May [1956] 1 QB 304 (incomprehensible reliance on the first head), followed in Re Draper’s
Conveyance [1969] 1 Ch 486.
20
This approach was taken for written notices in Re Draper’s Conveyance [1969] 1 Ch 486 (p. 140, above),
approved in later cases; Saleeba v Wilke [2007] QSC 298.
21
[1975] Ch 429.
143
now say that a course of dealing should have been recognised in Nielson-Jones? In Burgess,
Lord Denning MR seemed quite clear that the earlier decision was wrong, though Sir
John Pennycuick more cautiously left the question open. In Gore & Snell v Carpenter,22
one joint tenant died while negotiations were in progress following the breakdown of
their marriage. Severance had been put forward by just one party as part of a series of
proposals. This looks quite similar to Nielson-Jones. It was held that there was no sufficient
course of dealing. The difficulty with the decision is that, whatever the outcome to the
negotiations, it was certain to include severance. Given that survivorship is inappropriate
when relationships fail, this is a disappointingly narrow approach to the second and third
heads of Williams v Hensman.
However, the most controversial aspect of Burgess lies in Lord Denning MR’s support
for unilateral severance. This would be important where a section 36(2) written notice
cannot be relied upon, especially for assets other than land and where the notice is
merely oral. Lord Denning MR had two arguments. The first was a technical one based on
the wording of section 36(2), which could be taken to imply that severance by written
notice was possible before 1925. This seems an unlikely construction of the section:23 the
result is inconsistent with the cases and equitable rules never require writing. He also
appears to consider that unilateral notices (written or oral) fall within Williams v Hensman.
This also is difficult to accept. Page-Wood V-C referred to a course of dealing whereby
the shares are ‘mutually treated’ as a tenancy in common and Walton J in Nielson-Jones
had convincingly shown that the earlier cases were opposed to unilateral declarations.
Lord Denning MR’s analysis was, apparently, rejected by Sir John Pennycuick24 and its
status is dubious. There is no authoritative decision on the points, but subsequent English
dicta are hostile.25 Perhaps more tellingly, influential Commonwealth decisions have
sided with Sir John Pennycuick and Walton J.26
Even if the authorities persuade us to reject Lord Denning MR’s attempt to recognise
unilateral severance, does this represent sound policy? After all, unilateral severance is
already possible by written notice or transfer. The latter does not even require notice to
the other joint tenants, whereas Lord Denning MR recognises that notice is essential for
unilateral declarations. At least at first sight, it seems capricious not to recognise unilat-
eral severance.27 The principal cause for doubt is that section 36(2) already provides
a simple route involving written notice. There is a strong argument that the certainty
engendered by writing is as important for severance as it is for other property trans-
actions. Indeed, it is questionable whether we can justify the absence of writing for the
second and third heads of severance.
Are other reforms of severance rules required? It has already been seen that there
are limits on the scope of written notices under section 36(2). These limits seem unduly
22
(1990) 60 P&CR 456 (Judge Blackett-Ord).
23
Hayton [1976] CLJ 20 at p. 24.
24
Burgess at pp. 447–8; Browne LJ at p. 444 was ambivalent.
25
E.g., Gore and Snell v Carpenter (1990) 60 P&CR 456 at p. 462.
26
See especially Corin v Patton (1990) 169 CLR 540 at pp. 548, 584, 591 (High Court of Australia); Re
Sorensen and Sorensen (1977) 90 DLR 3d 26.
27
See the strong argument for it by Tooher (1998) 24 Monash ULR 422.
144
technical and they demand urgent review. The status of severance by transfer has already
been considered.28 More radical is the question whether severance by will should be
permitted. The principal problem is that such severance may be one-sided. If the
person making the will dies then severance is effective and survivorship does not apply.
If the other dies first then the maker of the will (still alive) benefits from survivorship.
This problem, allied with concerns regarding hidden severances and likely problems
in knowing whether the wording in a will refers to the property sufficiently clearly, has
caused the idea to receive very limited support.29
● The future of the equitable joint tenancy

The existence of the two forms of co-ownership confers a useful ability to dictate how
the property should pass on death. Is that benefit bought at too high a price? Virtually 11
everybody agrees that the joint tenancy is by far the most convenient way for trustees

to hold assets. Meanwhile, the tenancy in common obviously must continue as a form
of beneficial ownership: it provides essential flexibility. The real question is whether the
beneficial joint tenancy should be abolished.30
The case against the joint tenancy may be put on three grounds. Plainly, it complicates
the law, resulting in inevitable extra expense. Second, it is unnecessary. If survivorship is
desired, then this can be achieved by each co-owner making a will leaving their share to
the other. Third, survivorship operates in many situations where it is not wanted (notably
relationship breakdown), such that joint tenancies defeat intentions as much as giving
effect to them.
Taking the first point, it cannot be denied that considerable complexity is caused by
recognising the two forms of co-ownership. Without them, there would be almost noth-
ing to say on co-ownership in this chapter, save unity of possession! This would simplify
life for students and, more importantly, do away with the need for advice and litigation
as to what form of co-ownership has been created and whether there has been severance.
Any additional choice conferred by legal structures involves added complexity: the ques-
tion has to be whether the benefits outweigh the costs. On the other hand, the problems
should not be exaggerated. The actual number of reported cases on these questions over
the past 20 years can be counted on the fingers of one or two hands.
The second point, that the effects can be replicated by wills, is a strong one. As a matter
of principle, it is difficult to challenge. On the other hand, it cannot be assumed that wills
would in fact be made (this is discussed below).
The accusation that the wrong results are reached is a serious one and must be further
investigated. As explained above, the results reached on the creation of co-ownership
nearly always seem appropriate. However, we should question whether the parties’
statement that they hold as joint tenants always reflects their true intentions. The great
28
See p. 141, above.
29
The arguments are considered by Tee [1995] Conv 105 at pp. 111–13.
30
The question is debated by Thompson [1987] Conv 29, 275 (for abolition) and Prichard [1987] Conv
273 (against abolition).
145
majority of those buying houses together choose a joint tenancy, but almost invariably
this results from the recommendation of their lawyers. Doubts may be expressed as to
how far many purchasers truly understand what it is that they are agreeing to. In any
event, it is understandable if they forget about it as the years go by – explanation of the
forms of co-ownership will rarely seem important to most people embroiled in the stress-
ful experience of buying a new home. Even allowing for these doubts, most couples buy-
ing a home together are likely to wish the other to have it in the event of their death.
This is particularly important for unmarried couples, as the survivor will be unable to take
advantage of intestacy rules. Of course, a significant number of people buying a house
together will wish to avoid survivorship. This would be true, for example, of friends
purchasing a house and many cases where it is purchased as an investment.
It is more obvious that the wrong results are reached on breakdown of the relation-
ship between the co-owners. Severance patently does not apply to all such cases. Nor
would it be feasible to say that relationship breakdown should effect severance: how
would we define it and how would it apply to on/off/on relationships? The critics of the
joint tenancy rightly point to survivorship’s producing inappropriate results. These results
would be avoided if the beneficial joint tenancy were to be abandoned.
These are really powerful arguments, but would a tenancy in common really fare
better? An initial uncertainty is whether co-owners would in practice make wills dealing
with the property. Nearly always, problems occur when death is unexpected, especially
for younger co-owners. These are exactly the people who are unlikely to make wills. For
unmarried couples, the results of intestacy could be disastrous – quite possibly causing
the survivor to face disputes with the deceased’s family. This might well result in the home
having to be sold. Worse still, the deceased’s share might be vested in an estranged
spouse, a certain recipe for disputes. This last scenario was nicely illustrated by Delehunt
v Carmody,31 where the unmarried couple had lived together for 30 years. We might
reach the conclusion that the joint tenancy is likely to get the result wrong when the
relationship fails, but the tenancy in common is just as likely to get it wrong if the rela-
tionship succeeds. The critics have a strong argument only if one takes the pessimistic
approach that failure of relationships is so common as to be adopted as the norm.
A further question is as to whether a tenancy in common always produces the better
result on relationship breakdown. In long-term relationships, a tenant in common’s will
is very likely to specify that the property is to go to their partner or spouse. What
happens on relationship breakdown? Unless the will is amended,32 the same results will
operate as under a joint tenancy: the former partner will still get the deceased’s share.
One may doubt whether the parties (or their lawyers) will give any more urgent thought
to amending wills than they do to severing the joint tenancy. Again, we must remember
that the problems usually arise on an unexpected death, when changing a will would
have been given a low priority. Indeed, one might argue that the joint tenancy is more
likely to produce the right result, at least if the courts take a slightly more generous
31
(1986) 161 CLR 464.
32
Legacies to a spouse terminate on divorce (Wills Act 1837, s 18A), but problems almost always arise
when a joint tenant dies before divorce.
146
approach to finding severance from a mutual agreement or course of dealing from nego-
tiations on relationship breakdown.
The arguments are quite finely balanced. If we were developing a legal system from
scratch, probably we would recognise only the tenancy in common. However, we have
a position where the great majority of co-owners opt for the joint tenancy. Even if it is
sometimes the result of unthinking reliance on lawyers’ advice, this practice should make
us pause and think. Abolishing an option chosen by most people is a strange way of
developing our legal system.

multiple-choice practice questions, exam-style questions 11

C AS E
in this chapter:
Burgess v Rawnsley [1975] 3 All ER 142 A
R
N
V I G AT O
Nielson-Jones v Fedden [1974] 3 All ER 38 POWERED BY
147
12 Trusts of land

henever there is concurrent or successive ownership of land, questions may arise
W concerning (for example) rights of occupation and sale of the land. A very simple
example comes from concurrent ownership: one co-owner wants to occupy the land and
the other wishes to have it sold. It is necessary for the law to deal with these questions
and to establish procedures for resolving disputes. There are various ways in which
this could be achieved, but since 1925 we have imposed a trust and then provided for
the operation of this trust. This means that trusts are given an extensive and vitally import-
ant role. This is a feature which often surprises those who are not familiar with English
land law. Today, this is the province of the Trusts of Land and Appointment of Trustees
Act 1996 (TLATA) and much of this chapter is devoted to the working of the rules it
establishes.
● The need for regulation: successive interests

The origins of the modern law lie in nineteenth-century successive interests. Take a simple
settlement whereby land is held for Alice for life and thereafter by Brian (a fee simple
in remainder). Originally, these would be legal estates and, during Alice’s lifetime, the
land would be managed by Alice. All would be well so long as all that needs to be done
is to let the land to tenant farmers on short leases and ensure that it is properly farmed.
However, problems arose as soon as anything more radical needed to be done. If part of
the land needed to be sold – perhaps for housing or industrial development – then both
Alice and Brian would have to be involved. This might not appear too difficult, but the
various interests would frequently be far more complex and in any event Brian might be
an infant or a person whose identity is unascertained. An example of the latter would be
a remainder to the children of Brian: until Brian dies, we cannot be sure that we have a
complete list. This made it difficult and expensive to sell or to enter into other long-term
transactions, such as longer leases or mortgages.
Similar problems arose if the land needed improvement, one example being by the
construction of drains. Alice may well not be willing to spend her own money, as her
148
interest terminates on her death, whereas Brian has little immediate interest in improv-
ing land that doesn’t yet provide him with any return.
The nineteenth-century response was to confer powers on the tenant for life, Alice.
Alice could improve, mortgage (to borrow money) and sell the land, subject to
safeguards to protect Brian. One very important aspect of these powers was that a sale
(for example) by Alice would overreach all the successive interests. Overreaching is
the shifting of interests from the land to the proceeds of sale; it is studied later in this
chapter. It means that Brian ceases to have an interest in the land and instead has
an interest in money. A purchaser from Alice is not bound by Brian’s interest whether
it is legal or equitable and regardless of notice (or, today, its being an overriding interest).
Accordingly, the purchaser doesn’t have to deal with Brian – it is this factor that eases
property transfer. This settlement structure is often termed settled land; it found its final
form in the Settled Land Act 1925, under which the tenant for life (Alice) is given the 12
legal fee simple on trust.
Trusts of land
An alternative was for the land to be vested in trustees for sale, holding on trust
for Alice and Brian. Trusts for sale had long been recognised; they involve an obligation
to sell the land and were originally used when long-term retention of the land was not
intended. However, there would usually be a power to postpone sale and this rendered
the trust for sale suitable for long-term landholding, despite its unpromising label. This
trust was recognised by the 1925 legislation as an alternative to settled land. As one
might expect, powers to deal with the land were conferred on the trustees by the Law
of Property Act 1925 (LPA) and overreaching protected purchasers. One might ask why
the 1925 legislation didn’t employ a simple trust of land, rather than a trust for sale. The
answer appears to be that settled land involved the tenant for life’s holding the land on
trust. A contrasting form of trust (the trust for sale) was required for cases where trustees
held the legal title.
However, since TLATA there has been a single form of settlement: the trust of land.
This is much more straightforward than the previous settled land and trusts for sale
regimes, which involved two sets of rules. The old settled land approach of conferring
powers on the tenant for life was thought to be inappropriate in many cases. The tenant
for life might be incompetent and, in any event, there may well be a conflict of interest
between the life interest and fee simple (the tenant for life being more interested in short-
term benefits). Settled land was best suited to settlements based on primogeniture
(property passing to the eldest son), which is now regarded as outdated. Trusts for sale
are subsumed within the new trust of land and cease to be a separately regulated land-
holding structure. They are simply one type of trust of land: one in which there is a duty
to sell. They will be considered later in this chapter; suffice to say at this stage that few
settlors today wish to create trusts for sale.
● Extension of regulation to concurrent interests

Until 1925, concurrent interests received no equivalent attention from the legislation.
However, it was perceived that some of the same problems could apply as with succes-
sive interests. The joint tenancy is unlikely to pose problems as it will be unusual for
149
there to be a large number of joint tenants. Furthermore, the number will decrease as
they die (survivorship, explained in Chapter 11). However, it is not such plain sailing for
tenancies in common. The problem here is that a tenant in common can pass on his
interest on death. This involves two practical points. First, it becomes necessary to trace
the passing of each interest (more complex than showing a death certificate to prove
survivorship). Second, the will may pass an interest to a wide class of persons. An example
would be a gift by a tenant in common ‘to my grandchildren’, of whom there are ten.
This illustrates the potential for there to be an increasing multitude of tenants in com-
mon, which would make it difficult to get the unanimity required for dealing with the
land. Even where they all agree, dealing with more people and tracing the passing of
interests can multiply the work (and thus time and expense) involved in buying land.
The LPA solved these problems by imposing a trust for sale in all cases of co-ownership.
It enabled sale (by the trustees, usually the same persons as the co-owners) and over-
reaching in the same way as in successive interests. The use of a trust for sale had the
strange result that a couple who had just bought their home had an obligation to sell it,
though it did little harm in practice. Today, there is a simple trust of land (without any
need for a trust for sale) and, like successive interests, it is governed by TLATA. Trustees
always hold as legal joint tenants: since 1925 it has been impossible to hold a legal
tenancy in common.1 The beneficial interest will be either a joint tenancy or tenancy in
common, according to the normal rules considered in Chapter 11.
How does this work if Freda, Gerry and Harry buy land as tenants in common? The
three of them will be joint tenants holding the legal estate as trustees (there is a maxi-
mum of four trustees)2 on trust for themselves as beneficial tenants in common. Should
Gerry die, Freda and Harry will hold the legal estate as trustees for themselves and who-
ever has Gerry’s share under his will. A purchaser will deal only with Freda and Harry.
Independent trustees (i.e., not the same persons as the trustees) are more likely where
the trust is set up as part of a settlement or will.
One may doubt whether the problems caused by concurrent interests before 1925
were (or are today) anything like as great as was feared. The reforms have not been
implemented in other common law jurisdictions, which do not appear to experience
significant problems. Yet it would be unrealistic to abolish the compulsory trust of land.
As has been observed, the trust is the key to a host of provisions regulating the rights of
the co-owners and resolution of disputes. This also goes far to explain why the law
imposes a trust when there is a joint tenancy.
● A single regulatory regime for successive and concurrent

interests
We employ the identical TLATA regime for both concurrent and successive interests.
However, the needs of the two types of interest may well be different: one cannot assume
that the rules will be applied in an identical manner. Two examples (both considered in
1
LPA, s 1(6) (the reference to ‘undivided share’ is another way of describing a tenancy in common).
2
Trustee Act 1925, s 34.
150
greater detail later in this chapter) may be given. First, trustees have statutory authority
to delegate their powers to a beneficiary whose interest is in possession. This is unneces-
sary where two co-owners are both trustees and beneficiaries: they are managing the land
already. It makes much more sense when independent (i.e., non-beneficiary) trustees
delegate to the holder of a life interest. Second, the courts are very willing to intervene
in disputes between co-owners who are also trustees. Because trustees normally must
exercise their powers unanimously, decisions cannot be taken unless they agree. If the
co-owners (typically a couple) have split up and cannot agree what to do with the land,
court intervention is essential to decide whether it should be sold. By contrast, the courts
may display much greater reluctance to get involved if beneficiaries dispute decisions by
independent trustees. The settlor has chosen the trustees as persons and entrusted them
with decision-making. The courts retain jurisdiction to review decisions, but one may
expect that it will be sparingly exercised (at least if the trustees are unanimous). 12
Trusts of land
● When is there a trust of land?
Unsurprisingly, there is a trust of land whenever land is held on trust. It has been seen
that the trust of land regime is intended to apply to successive and concurrent interests.
In this section, the scope of trusts of land is considered in a little more detail.
Successive interests
The only legal freehold estate since 1925 is the fee simple absolute in possession. This
means that a life interest and an interest in remainder necessarily take effect as equit-
able interests, under a trust.3 TLATA naturally applies to these successive interests.
Concurrent interests
LPA section 36 makes it clear that a joint tenancy must be held under a trust. This has
the apparently odd result that a transfer to Ruth and Sam means that they hold the
legal estate as joint tenants on trust for themselves as equitable joint tenants. It may be
justified because the trust is vital for TLATA to apply, enabling effective land management
and the resolution of disputes.
LPA section 1(6) prevents tenancies in common being legal estates. It follows that they
must be equitable interests under a trust: a trust of land. LPA section 34(2) provides that
a purported transfer to tenants in common takes effect as a transfer to them as joint
tenants, holding on trust for themselves as beneficial tenants in common. That works
well enough if there is a transfer to Richard and Susan as tenants in common. They hold
the legal estate as joint tenants on trust for themselves as tenants in common.
Unfortunately, the legislation fails to cope with more complex situations. Suppose
there is a transfer to Tom, when Ursula has contributed to the purchase? We saw in
Chapters 9 and 11 that the law will recognise a constructive trust, whereby Tom holds
3
LPA, s 1.
151
the legal estate for himself and Ursula as tenants in common. Unfortunately, section
34(1) states that a tenancy in common shall not be capable of being created except
‘as hereinafter mentioned’. The Tom and Ursula example falls outside section 34(2) as
it is not a case where ‘land is expressed to be conveyed to any persons’ as tenants in
common: this is because the tenancy in common arises from the constructive trust. This
means that the situation is not ‘hereinafter mentioned’ and therefore, apparently, there
cannot be a tenancy in common. This would, however, be an unacceptably harsh and
restrictive result: there is no policy reason why there shouldn’t be a tenancy in common
in such cases. Though offering no analysis, Denning LJ in Bull v Bull 4 clearly held that
there is an equitable tenancy in common in such cases. This is the only sensible result and
it has never been challenged. The consequence, of course, is a trust of land with Tom
being the trustee.
Other cases
A bare trust (where trustees hold on trust for one individual absolutely) is a trust of land.
This enables purchasers to be protected by overreaching when they deal with the trustees.
Some special cases are explicitly included by TLATA.5 These include conveyances to
infants (a trust is necessary to enable the land to be properly managed) and land subject
to family charges. There is a family charge where a sum of money has to be paid annu-
ally to a member of the family, with the obligation charged on the land (this gives the
payee rights in the land to ensure payment). It would be difficult to sell the land subject
to the charge and it is useful to be able to overreach the charge.
Might trusts of land apply in unintended circumstances? One possible example is a
contract to sell land. This is an estate contract, an interest in land that can bind anyone
later acquiring an interest in the land. It is often thought that the seller holds the land on
trust for the purchaser, though it is a rather special form of trust. It would be very odd to
apply the trust of land regime to the estate contract: this would enable the seller (trustee)
to dispose of the land free of the estate contract. Estate contracts are expected to bind
purchasers and cannot sensibly take effect against the proceeds of sale. We can con-
fidently predict that the courts would find a way to conclude that there is no trust of land.
● Trustees’ powers and their exercise

As one might expect, the trustees usually manage the land. Trustees of other property
only have such powers as the trust document or the general law confers. For trusts of
land, the general philosophy is to confer almost unlimited powers on the trustees, but
then to place restrictions on how they are to be exercised.
There may be said to be four players in the operation of the trust: settlor, trustees,
beneficiaries and the court. Much of the interest in the present law is as to whether each
of these four is given an appropriate role by TLATA. Beneficiaries traditionally had almost
no say in the running of trusts (though it was very different for Settled Land Act settle-
ments), but we shall see that TLATA provides a number of ways in which beneficiaries’
4
[1955] 1 QB 234.
5
TLATA, Sched 1.
152
wishes are taken into account. The role of the court is vital because TLATA section 14 con-
fers jurisdiction to resolve disputes (fully discussed below).
The extent of trustees’ powers

TLATA section 6 confers on the trustees ‘all the powers of an absolute owner’. This means
that they can sell, lease or mortgage the land, as well as undertaking lesser transactions
such as creating easements. This contrasts with earlier legislation, which conferred specific
(though still wide) powers.
Section 8 (new in TLATA) allows the settlor to exclude powers; for example, the power
to sell can be excluded. This is interesting because it runs counter to the policy of the
past century that land must always be marketable. One reason for the change is that
there are many fewer large settlements today, so that the entire issue is less significant.
In any event, it can confidently be expected that few settlors will wish to limit powers: 12
the advantages of marketability are now widely accepted.
Trusts of land
TLATA confers other powers, going beyond land management: to acquire land
(section 6(3); see also Trustee Act 2000, section 8), to transfer the property to the benefi-
ciaries (section 6(2)), to split the land among the beneficiaries (partition: section 7), to
delegate powers to beneficiaries (section 9) and to resolve occupation disputes (sections
12 and 13). Delegation and occupation are considered later in this chapter.
Exercising the powers

A general rule of equity is that trustees must exercise their powers unanimously. This
is particularly important when the beneficiaries are also the trustees, as is usual for con-
current interests. Disagreement is quite likely in the typical case where they are a couple
whose relationship has broken down; nothing can then be done without a court order.
Although independent trustees must similarly be unanimous, in practice this gives rise to
little difficulty. In addition, it must be remembered that trustees hold their powers in their
capacity as trustees, not for their personal benefit. The powers must be exercised for the
benefit of the beneficiaries. No legislation is required to establish this, though section 6
stresses the need to have regard to beneficiaries’ rights and to comply with statutory and
common law (or equitable) rules.
There are a number of specific ways in which beneficiaries may be involved in man-
agement questions. We will leave aside the possibility that beneficiaries may be trustees
(common for concurrent interests) or that powers may have been delegated to them.
Unless excluded by the settlor, TLATA section 11 requires trustees to consult beneficiaries
when exercising their powers (when selling, for example) and to give effect to the majority
view ‘so far as consistent with the general interest of the trust’. This interesting provision
is less significant than one might expect. For concurrent interest trusts, the beneficiaries
will typically also be trustees – nothing can be done without their active participation.
Consulting themselves is an empty charade! In any event, the beneficiaries will frequently
hold equal interests and there will be no majority view.
Section 11 may be more useful for successive interest trusts. However, it is important
to note that those consulted are limited to adults holding interests in possession. A
fundamental duty of trustees is to balance the interests of life tenants and holders of
153
remainder interests. It may well be that the needs of holders of interests in remainder
conflict with the interests of life tenants. Thus, a life interest holder may wish a house to
be sold in order to increase income, while those with interests in remainder may regard
it as the traditional home and want to live there in due course. The trustees cannot
blindly implement the wishes of the life interest holder.
A settlor may require a beneficiary’s consent before powers are exercised (section 8(2)).
A simple example is provided by a trust of a family home for a widower for life, remainder
to children. The settlor might intend that the widower should live in the home and may
therefore want the widower to have to consent before sale. Special provision is made
where the individual is an infant (parents can consent: section 10(3)). There is protection
for purchasers in order to avoid onerous consent requirements: if the consent of more
than two persons is required then the consent of any two suffices (section 10(1)).
● The role of the court

The court has wide powers to settle disputes relating to the exercise of the trustees’ func-
tions. Disputes may arise because the beneficiaries disagree with what the trustees pro-
pose to do (or not do) or because the trustees disagree with each other. Virtually all cases
have involved concurrent interests, where the same persons are both trustees and bene-
ficiaries. If their relationship breaks down, then they are quite likely to have differing
views as to what should happen to the land, most obviously when it is occupied by one
of them and the other wants it to be sold. It will take a court order to resolve these
disputes.
The present jurisdiction is found in TLATA section 14, which confers wide powers on
the court. Section 15 lists four factors that the court must consider:
(a) the intentions of the settlor;
(b) the purpose for which the land is held;
(c) the welfare of occupying minors; and
(d) the interests of secured creditors.
In addition, the court (just like the trustees) is to consider the wishes of those with
interests in possession.
The modern case law has centred on disputes involving trustees in bankruptcy or
secured creditors. These disputes are considered below, under ‘Critical and controversial
issues’. Disputes between co-owners featured in cases were decided under LPA section 30
(the precursor of TLATA sections 14 and 15); they provide a guide to the operation
of TLATA. Section 30 contained no list of considerations for the court to take into account.
The courts developed an analysis whereby the land would not be sold if there was
a purpose6 underpinning the acquisition of the land (the cases invariably involved
purchase rather than a settlor settling land). Once the purpose had come to an end,
the land would be sold.
6
Before TLATA, under the trust for sale the primary purpose (in the eyes of the law) was sale. This is why
the earlier cases refer to collateral purposes.
154
In the leading case of Jones v Challenger,7 the husband and wife jointly purchased
their family home. Later they divorced, seemingly because of the wife’s conduct. She left
him in the former family home, but now sought sale. The Court of Appeal recognised
that sale would not normally be ordered if the purpose was still continuing. However, on
the facts, the purpose was for the occupation of both of them and that had come to
an end on divorce; sale was ordered. It will be a rare case in which a couple will intend
occupation by just one of them, should they separate.
Most cases have involved disputes between couples, whether married or not. While
they are living happily together, no question of sale will arise. They may disagree whether
they should move to a different house, but the chances of such a disagreement leading
to litigation are almost zero. Once they split up, however, the purpose has come to an
end and, in the absence of children, sale seems inevitable. The only realistic alternative
course is for the occupier to buy out the other person’s share, whereupon neither really 12
loses out. Of course, in many cases there will simply not be the funds available for this to
Trusts of land
be practicable.
One might expect similar results under TLATA. However, two significant changes in
the new legal structure can be pointed to. The first is that the old law employed a trust
for sale, with the result that the fall-back position was that sale should be ordered. The
present law contains no such pro-sale bias. Although this might indicate that sale is less
likely today, the role of the obligation to sell in cases such as Jones v Challenger was
already marginal. The second change is that the interests of occupying minors are clearly
established for the first time. The minors need not be the children of the co-owners, so
the interests of grandchildren can be considered.8
More generally, the point can be made that section 15 is broader in its outlook. It lists
criteria to be taken into account and makes it clear that other relevant factors can be con-
sidered. An example might be where a house has been modified so as to provide chair-
lift access to an upper floor for an elderly relative: this would be a reason for not selling.
The old law, it may be thought, placed rather too much stress on purposes. This can be
unhelpful when purposes are not clearly articulated, especially where purposes are mixed
and one of them ceases to apply. Bedson v Bedson9 illustrates this. Property had been pur-
chased as a home and also as a drapery shop. When the marriage broke down, it was
held that the purpose of a drapery business continued so that sale should not be ordered.
It is easy to see that many cases may involve similar mixed purposes, for example to pro-
vide a home for a couple and also their parents/children. It is equally wrong always to
insist on a sale if one of the purposes has ended as always to deny a sale unless all the
purposes have ended: a balanced approach is required.
Against that background, how significant are the changes in TLATA? Apart from bank-
ruptcy/secured creditor situations, there have been few cases since TLATA. However,
there is an interesting statement by Neuberger J in Mortgage Corpn v Shaire10 that the
7
[1961] 1 QB 176.
8
First National Bank plc v Achampong [2004] 1 FCR 18.
9
[1965] 2 QB 666.
10
[2001] Ch 743 at p. 761.
155
earlier cases must be treated with caution, now that the trust for sale has gone and the
criteria are established by TLATA. This may well be correct as regards secured creditors
(the context of Shaire), but it is less obviously justified in other contexts. Even though
there is no longer any leaning towards sale, we have seen that this had limited signi-
ficance in the older law.
How significant is the introduction of children’s interests, bearing in mind that there
are children in many failed relationships? Nobody doubts that parents cannot seek to
evict children, at least where no other home is available. Otherwise, the courts have placed
little stress on their interests, unless specific harm resulting from sale can be shown.11 This
is seen, especially, in sale applications by secured creditors. However, a more generous
approach was taken by Park J in Edwards v Lloyds TSB Bank plc.12 A secured creditor
sought sale. Satisfactory alternative housing for the debtor’s children was unlikely to be
found and Park J postponed sale for five years, until the children reached 18. We will see
later that the postponement did not significantly prejudice the creditor. Such lack of
prejudice is uncommon: there is little evidence that the interests of children will be
significant in more usual cases.
The question whether more weight should be accorded to children’s interests is a
difficult one. We must remember that parents frequently move houses and it is quite
common for houses to be sold by mortgagees (exercising their powers as mortgagees,
rather than applying under TLATA): children have little expectation of being able to
remain in their existing homes.
One question to consider is how far the courts are likely to intervene where there are
independent trustees, i.e., they are not also beneficiaries. Virtually all the cases have
involved concurrent interests, with the same persons as trustees and beneficiaries. In these
cases the trustees have been unable to exercise powers (because they disagree) and in
any event they are scarcely impartial. It is unsurprising that the court feels compelled to
intervene. However, if independent trustees take a decision, is it likely that the court will
uphold a challenge by a disappointed beneficiary? There is clearly jurisdiction in the
court. Furthermore, the courts can be expected to intervene if the decision cannot ration-
ally be defended or if the trustees have failed to comply with TLATA, perhaps by not con-
sulting the beneficiaries. Beyond that, it is likely that the courts will be reluctant to intervene
(at least if the trustees are unanimous), on the basis that the settlor has entrusted decision-
making to the trustees and their decisions should be respected. One likely exception to
this is where a secured creditor makes a sale application – in this scenario the trustees
may be viewed as being allied to the beneficiaries, who do not want a sale.
Before leaving section 14, it should be added that in many cases there will be
separate family law jurisdiction to resolve disputes. As regards married couples and civil
partners, this jurisdiction is far wider than section 14 in that it enables the court to vary
the beneficial interests.13 Further, the range of factors to be taken into consideration is
wider, including the needs of the parties. The courts have held that disputes should
11
First National Bank plc v Achampong [2004] 1 FCR 18 at [65].
12
[2005] 1 FCR 139; see p. 169, below.
13
Matrimonial Causes Act 1973, s 24; for the relevant factors, see s 25.
156
normally be resolved under this family law jurisdiction rather than the trusts of land
jurisdiction.14 This jurisdiction does not apply to unmarried couples. However, their occu-
pation disputes may be considered under the Family Law Act 1996 (discussed below in
the occupation context), which employs wider criteria than found in TLATA section 15.
Given that questions of sale usually relate to the issue whether one should occupy, the
Family Law Act may provide the more appropriate jurisdiction for resolving disputes.
● Delegation
TLATA section 9 permits trustees to delegate their powers to a beneficiary with an inter-
est in possession. This might be useful where independent trustees hold for beneficial co-
owners, but delegation is far more likely to be to a life tenant in a successive interest trust.
The life tenant may be the best person to manage the land, being a senior member of 12
the family benefited by the trust and the person with the closest association with the
Trusts of land
land. One simple example is where a house is left to a widow or widower for life, with
remainder to their children. It may be thought natural that the widow or widower should
manage the land, deciding whether it should be sold if a smaller and more easily main-
tained home is required.
The trustees can always revoke a delegation. They must take care both in deciding
whether to delegate and in deciding whether to revoke.15 An obvious danger is that a
beneficiary may be incompetent in managing the land. In worse cases the beneficiary
may act fraudulently, for instance by leasing the land to a friend for less than it is worth.
● Occupation
Two rather different, but related, issues are considered. The first concerns rights to
occupy. The second is whether the non-occupier has a right to be compensated for the
other’s occupation. Most of the issues discussed below apply primarily to co-owners.
Rights to occupy
The original common law rule was that any co-owner was entitled to possession of all the
property; this was part of the unity of possession.16 However, this right to occupy became
less clear after the 1925 legislation introduced trusts into co-ownership: beneficiaries
under express pre-1925 trusts were thought not to be entitled to occupy.
Any universal right to occupy was seen to cause difficulty. If one co-owner sold their
interest in the family home, could the purchaser insist on going into occupation with the
other family members? The courts preferred to take a more limited approach. They
recognised rights to occupy, but limited them to the purpose for which the property was
purchased. In practice, most purchases of homes and business premises are for occupa-
tion: there is then a right to occupy. A purchaser from a co-owner would be outside that
14
Williams v Williams [1976] Ch 278; Miller Smith v Miller Smith [2009] EWCA Civ 1297.
15
TLATA, s 9A.
16
This was discussed at p. 137, above.
157
purpose and have no right to occupy. If land was purchased as an investment, then there
would be no occupation purpose at all.
TLATA now makes fresh provision, which is thought to replace the old law. Section 12
recognises rights to occupy where the purposes of the trust include occupation or the
trustees hold the land for occupation. The explanation of the latter provision is that
trustees may choose to make land available for occupation for a beneficiary. This is most
likely to be important in successive interest trusts, when it would be entirely appropriate
to allow the life tenant to live in a house owned by the trust. It would be more difficult
to apply in favour of one of several concurrent interest holders. Suppose Andrew, Belinda,
Clare and Davina (siblings) are co-owners of a life interest under a trust. It would be
difficult to justify making land available for, say, Clare’s occupation. This would favour
Clare above the others.
Section 12 requires that the land must be available (it might be let to a third party)
and must not be unsuitable. Chan v Leung17 involved a couple’s home. Most unusually,
they also intended that the woman could live in it alone if the relationship failed. The
court rejected an argument that the house was too large to be suitable for her needs –
such an argument was inconsistent with the purpose that she could occupy. On the facts,
there was only a year until her university course ended and, with it, the purpose. The
court allowed her to occupy for that period.
Does suitability have to be satisfied only at the time occupation is first taken, or must
it continue thereafter? An interesting case might be where occupation by a beneficiary,
Sarah, is intended, but by reason of her increasing age and declining physical powers the
house becomes unsuitable (indeed dangerous) for her continued occupation. The trustees
may want Sarah to move to another, more suitable, home. It is unclear whether they can
say that the land is no longer suitable and so force her out. It seems probable that they
can (implicitly supported by Chan), though there is no direct authority on the question.
In many cases two or more beneficiaries will be entitled to occupy. The most obvious
example is a couple buying a house together for joint occupation, but another is siblings
as beneficiaries under a family trust. Quite often, the house may become unsuitable for
occupation by all of them. This would happen if the partners split up, or one of the
siblings marries. Such facts may of course lead to a demand that the property be sold,
but section 13 allows the trustees to decide who should occupy. Their preference for one
over the other can be balanced by requiring compensation payments to be made to the
non-occupier.
It should be noted that the trustees cannot say that none can occupy, though they can
decide that one shall occupy part and that the other shall occupy the remainder. An
example of this is provided by Rodway v Landy,18 in which a building used as a doctor’s
surgery by the co-owners could be split so as to provide separate surgeries for each of
them. Unsurprisingly, the trustees are required to exercise their powers reasonably. More
interestingly, they cannot (without court approval) evict a present occupier to permit
17
[2003] 1 FLR 23 at [102].
18
[2001] Ch 703.
158
occupation by another beneficiary. This recognises the interests of occupiers in retaining

occupation, especially important as regards homes.
These section 13 powers apply only where there are two or more beneficiaries entitled
to occupy. They would not apply, for example, to a life interest holder in occupation.
However, in all cases the trustees can impose ‘reasonable conditions’ on occupiers. They
might, for example, require reasonable maintenance of the property, for instance keep-
ing it properly decorated. However, powers cannot be exercised when the result might
be the occupier’s leaving the property. For an impecunious occupier, this may lead to a
clash with the trustees’ belief that fairness to the other beneficiaries requires compensa-
tion payments or maintenance. The cases provide no help in dealing with such problems.
Most disputes are likely to arise between a couple buying a home. In this context, two
points should be made. First, the trustees and beneficiaries will usually be the same
persons and their disagreements are likely to render the section 13 powers incapable of 12
exercise. However, the courts can operate their section 14 jurisdiction to resolve the dis-
Trusts of land
pute. Next, most of these occupation disputes will fall within the jurisdiction conferred
by the Family Law Act 1996, most especially section 33. Given that this jurisdiction recog-
nises a wider range of criteria than TLATA, it seems probable that it should be exercised
in place of TLATA.
A final question is whether a right to occupy can be defeated by sale. The section 13
powers cannot be used to evict a single occupying beneficiary; nor can they be used to
exclude rights of all the beneficiaries to occupy. Can the trustees thwart the right to
occupy by selling the land? To evict beneficiaries in order to sell would seem to be incon-
sistent with the right conferred by section 12 and almost impossible to reconcile with the
rule in section 13 that the rights of all cannot be excluded. This leads to the question
whether the courts can use their section 14 powers to evict the beneficiaries. The section
14 jurisdiction relates to the functions of the trustees. Whether the court can order some-
thing that would be a breach of trust on the part of a trustee seems uncertain: commit-
ting breaches of trust can scarcely be the function of trustees. On the other hand, such
a power in the court would seem useful, especially if unforeseen circumstances have
arisen (an example could be an exceptionally high offer from a potential purchaser). Of
course, there is no problem if the purpose has come to an end (as in the cases typified
by Jones v Challenger), as there is then no longer any section 12 right to occupy.
Compensation for occupation: improvements

It has been seen that the trustees may require a beneficiary in occupation to pay com-
pensation when exercising their section 13 powers to exclude another beneficiary. Usually,
however, a co-owner is in sole occupation when the relationship between a couple
breaks down and the other has left the family home. In both situations, it has been clear
since Stack v Dowden19 that questions about payments should be resolved by the court
under its section 14 jurisdiction, using the section 15 criteria.
19
[2007] 2 AC 432; Murphy v Gooch [2007] 2 FLR 934 confirms that this applies whether the hearing is
before or after the relevant period of occupation.
159
Prior to Stack, there was a substantial body of authority on the payment of com-
pensation. Can this now be discarded? There is no simple answer. For a start, there are
indications in Stack (especially from Lord Neuberger, though he dissented on the facts)
that the result will frequently be the same as under the previous law – at least unless the
section 15 criteria require a different outcome. More technically, the section 14 jurisdiction
applies only when the trustees have discretion under section 13. In turn this applies only
when both parties have a right to occupy. In French v Barcham,20 this analysis was
employed to hold that the section 15 criteria do not apply when the person seeking com-
pensation is the trustee in bankruptcy of one of the co-owners – the trustee in bankruptcy
has no right to occupy under section 12. The courts have readily held that compensation
should be paid to the trustee in bankruptcy.
In the light of these developments, the older law will be very briefly summarised. The
traditional view was that any co-owner could occupy the land without any need to com-
pensate the other. This was clearly established in the leading cases of Jacobs v Seward.21
The defendant co-owner of farmland had cut grass and taken it away. The House of Lords
rejected a complaint by the other co-owner. It would be otherwise if the defendant had
excluded the claimant from the land. However, the modern law (especially as regards the
family home) has seen two developments.
First, some recent cases22 have employed the more general test that compensation is
payable whenever it is necessary to do justice (or ‘equity’) as between the parties. In many
cases it may seem unjust for one co-owner to occupy without compensating the other.
This has been applied in the bankruptcy cases in particular. The second development
relates to the common circumstance that the occupier pays the mortgage instalments.
The courts are inclined to hold that the payment and the benefit of occupation usually
cancel each other out.23 Save for bankruptcy, the courts do not quantify occupation value
and instalments. This produces a simple rough-and-ready solution. It remains to be seen
how much of these principles survives Stack.
Turning to improvements, there is generally no right to claim the value of improve-
ments from another co-owner. However, the opposite applies on sale – at that time, the
value of the improvements can be brought into account. In the context of the modern
family home, two points can be made. The first is that payment of mortgage capital (not
interest) will be the most common example of improvement. Next, the courts are
unlikely to compensate improvements which predate the splitting up of the couple – it
is not undertaken with the intention of being rewarded.24
● Overreaching
The origins of the trusts of land regime lie in the need to ensure that the land can be
readily sold (or mortgaged, etc.). Legal policy is that purchasers should not have to deal
20
[2009] 1 WLR 1124.
21
(1872) LR 5 HL 464.
22
Especially Re Pavlou [1993] 1 WLR 1046; also Re Byford [2004] 1 P&CR 159.
23
Suttill v Graham [1977] 1 WLR 819.
24
Wilcox v Tait [2007] 2 FLR 871.
160
with beneficiaries. Instead, we require the purchaser to deal with the trustees; their iden-
tity is readily discoverable and their number is limited to four by the Trustee Act 1925,
section 34. The purchaser can then rely on defeating the beneficial interests. The bene-
ficial interests are shifted on to the proceeds of sale. This is what is called overreaching.
It makes it more accurate to view a life interest, for example, as being an interest in a
fund currently represented by land, rather than as a fixed interest in the land.
It may be questioned whether this goes too far in promoting easy dealings with land.
One risk for beneficiaries is that the trustees may abscond with the purchase money. This
risk is minimised by requiring25 capital money to be paid to at least two trustees before
overreaching can apply – the risk of default by a single trustee is far higher. This require-
ment of two trustees cannot be excluded. Fraud by two trustees is unusual, though it
does happen. One example is City of London BS v Flegg,26 in which a married couple held
on trust for themselves and the wife’s parents. The couple obtained a mortgage loan for 12
the benefit of themselves. This mortgage overreached the parents’ interests. The result
Trusts of land
was that the mortgage lenders could sell the house; the parents lost their home. Their
rights against the capital money received by the trustees (the money borrowed) were
useless because the trustees were bankrupt.
Overreaching can apply where no capital money is received. An example is provided
by State Bank of India v Sood,27 in which the trustees mortgaged the land to secure an
existing loan (existing loans can be secured by mortgages). This meant that the capital
money (the bank loan) had been paid long before the overreaching transaction (the
mortgage). In such cases there is no need for two trustees.
Leaving fraud on one side, does overreaching give adequate protection to beneficiar-
ies? Beneficiaries with interests in possession must of course be consulted, but the land
can be sold despite their opposition. On the other hand, the objective of making sale
straightforward may be a good enough reason for protecting purchasers in any dispute.
It must also be remembered that beneficiaries who are aware of a proposed sale can
apply to court for an order under TLATA section 14 to stop the sale.
It is the beneficiary in possession for whom the greatest sympathy may be felt: over-
reaching may cause the loss of their home. How likely is it that transactions will take place
when there is an occupying beneficiary? The risks of a sale are quite low, as few pur-
chasers would buy with a beneficiary in possession and showing no signs of moving out:
no purchaser wants the hassle of evicting occupiers (let alone the risk that the occupier
might have some right to remain). The risks to beneficiaries are greater with mortgages
entered into by trustees. The nature of a mortgage is that the borrower remains in pos-
session: it is more likely that a mortgage will go ahead despite a beneficiary being in
occupation. These risks led to the Law Commission’s recommending28 that overreaching
should not take place without the consent of beneficiaries in actual occupation. This would
not be unduly onerous, as purchasers of registered land should already make inquiries
25
LPA, ss 2(1)(ii) and 27(2).
26
[1988] AC 54.
27
[1997] Ch 276.
28
Law Com No 188, especially paras 3.5, 4.1–4.3; criticised by Harpum [1990] CLJ 277 at pp. 328 et seq.
161
of those in actual occupation. However, this proposal has not been accepted by the
government. Instead, TLATA has moved in the opposite direction by giving fuller powers
to trustees.
Overreaching provides a crucial protection for purchasers. However, purchasers must
remember that it operates only if the purchase money is paid to two trustees. Otherwise,
even if the transfer (or mortgage) is registered, the co-owner in actual occupation will
have an overriding interest that will bind the purchaser. The danger to the purchaser is
greatest when the register (or title documents) indicates that the vendor is solely entitled
to the land, yet a resulting or constructive trust has arisen in favour of the other co-owner.
This was the position in Williams & Glyn’s Bank Ltd v Boland,29 in which a mortgage loan
was paid over to a husband. Unknown to the lender, the husband held the house on trust
for himself and his wife. The House of Lords held the mortgage took effect subject to the
wife’s interest: the bank could not evict her. The moral is that inquiries must be made of
all occupiers in case they possess beneficial interests. In contrast, where payment is made
to two trustees Flegg holds that any beneficial interest is defeated by overreaching.
Furthermore, this operates even if the beneficiary is in actual occupation. This is because
overriding interests do not protect interests against anything other than registration: the
mortgagee in Flegg was relying on overreaching rather than its registered title.
Overreaching can operate without any statutory provision. Thus a sale of personal
property under an express power will overreach (there is no statutory regulation similar
to trusts of land). For land, LPA section 2 provides for overreaching in several settings.
However, for trusts of land this seems to do no more than confirm the effect of the power
to sell. The basis for overreaching is therefore best regarded30 as the exercise of powers
by the trustees.
As overreaching is based on the exercise of trustees’ powers, does it still apply if those
powers are limited or there is some breach of trust? A simple example is where a settlor
removes the trustees’ power to sell (permitted by TLATA section 8). TLATA section 16
introduces a useful protection for purchasers. They are protected against any term that
limits powers or requires consents for their exercise, provided that they are unaware of
the term. Similar protection is given as regards other irregularities (including failure to
consult beneficiaries).
Section 16 explicitly does not apply to registered land. Accordingly, it applies to only
a small minority of transactions. This limitation on section 16 puzzled lawyers. It cannot
be explained by arguing that registered purchasers are protected by land registration
principles if there is no entry (restriction) on the register, because the beneficiary might
have an overriding interest by virtue of actual occupation. Fortunately, section 26 of the
Land Registration Act 2002 provides that purchasers are protected as regards limitations
on proprietors’ powers. This is subject to any entry on the register, but not to overriding
interests. It means that the purchaser has to take account of limitations mentioned on the
register, but need not make inquiries of occupying beneficiaries.
29
[1981] AC 487.
30
See the full and well-regarded analysis of Harpum [1990] CLJ 277, approved by Peter Gibson LJ in State
Bank of India v Sood [1997] Ch 276 at p. 281.
162
More technically, section 26 protects against ‘a limitation affecting the validity of a

disposition’. What does this cover? The Law Commission makes it clear that it applies to
situations where powers are excluded or consents required. Though it is not apparent
from the wording of the legislation, it does not seem to provide protection against the
requirement to pay the purchase money to two trustees. The Law Commission clearly did
not intend such protection.31
It may be concluded that purchasers are well protected by overreaching so long as
they pay to two trustees. This, of course, is a benefit bought at a cost to beneficiaries.
It remains an open question whether the law should do more to protect beneficiaries.
It must, of course, be borne in mind that too heavy a burden on purchasers may render
transactions with trustees less attractive. This would operate against the interests of
beneficiaries generally, though it would be wrong to exaggerate the risk.
12
● Trusts for sale
Trusts of land
A trust for sale is a trust of land in which there is an obligation to sell. There are millions
of trusts for sale in existence. The great majority of joint purchases before TLATA were
expressly structured as trusts for sale, as were most successive interest settlements.
Although TLATA converted statutory trusts for sale into simple trusts of land, this does not
apply to express trusts for sale. We need to consider whether it is significant today that
there is a trust for sale and whether there is any point in creating such a trust.
Before TLATA, one significant consequence of a trust for sale was that the beneficial
interests were treated as being in money (the proceeds of sale) and not in land. This was
the controversial doctrine of conversion. It was abolished by TLATA section 3. It should
be stressed that section 3 does not affect overreaching on sale. Overreaching converts
the interests into money at the time of sale, whereas the old doctrine of conversion
treated the interests as being in money from the beginning.
How far does the trust for sale ensure that the land will be sold? In principle, it means
that the trustees must sell unless they exercise their power to postpone sale. The exercise
of powers must be unanimous, so land should be sold if the trustees are divided. Yet this
is misleading, at least for trusts of the family home. As has been seen, the courts placed
much stress on the purpose for which the land had been acquired. If that purpose were
still continuing, the land would not be sold. Likewise, section 15 ensures that purposes
are relevant under TLATA. Accordingly, it makes little if any difference whether there is a
trust for sale or a power to sell.
The one context in which there might be a difference is if there are independent
trustees (not also beneficiaries) who disagree as to whether the land should be sold.
It has been observed that the court may be less inclined to interfere with decisions
by independent trustees, even if they are divided. Yet again, this seems unlikely to have
a great impact. In practice, independent trustees normally discuss issues and reach a
consensual conclusion: it is exceptional for them to disagree.
31
Law Com No 271, paras 4.8–4.11.
163
Is there any point in choosing a trust for sale today? The above discussion indicates
that there is little difference, so choosing a trust for sale seems pointless. Nevertheless, if
sale really is intended, then an express trust for sale is one way of making this obvious –
it makes it less likely that the courts will find a purpose that would point against sale. This
reasoning cannot, of course, be applied to pre-TLATA trusts for sale, as then there was
usually no other form of trust available. It might be noted that there will always be a
power to postpone sale. Perhaps oddly, this is one provision that cannot be excluded
from trusts of land.32

One area will be considered: sale at the request of a trustee in bankruptcy or a successor
in title to one of the co-owners. The latter includes secured creditors.
Most of the recent sale cases have arisen when one of the co-owners has become
bankrupt or charged their beneficial interest. Sale is sought by the trustee in bankruptcy
(the name given to the person whose job it is to sell the assets to provide funds to pay
off the creditors) or secured creditor. If the land is sold, the home will be lost, but the other
co-owner (not involved in the bankruptcy or secured charge) will receive their share
of the proceeds. The situation where all the beneficial owners jointly mortgage their
interests (as where a couple buy a home with a mortgage loan) is quite different.
On default, sale will follow under the normal powers of mortgagees (see Chapter 18);
TLATA plays no role.
We will first consider bankruptcy. This involves special provisions, but the law on bank-
ruptcy has been influential in the courts’ thinking about secured creditors, who must seek
sale under the normal provisions in TLATA sections 14 and 15. We will also give brief
consideration to other successors in title – a purchaser of a beneficial interest would be
an example.
● Bankruptcy
The bankrupt’s beneficial interest passes to the trustee in bankruptcy. In order to realise
the value of that share, the trustee in bankruptcy will seek sale of the land under TLATA
section 14. The trustees of the land will be the original co-owners and it is highly unlikely
that they will want the family home to be sold. A special factor is that the section 15 cri-
teria do not apply. Instead, as made clear by section 15(4), we turn to section 335A of
the Insolvency Act 1986.
Section 335A attempts to establish a balance between the interests of family members
and those of the creditors. It draws a crucial distinction between sale applications before
and after the period of one year from bankruptcy. In the first year, the provisions may be
regarded as family friendly. The court has a discretion whether or not to order a sale and
is to consider the needs of the children and spouse/civil partner (together with their
32
TLATA, s 4.
164
resources and conduct regarding the bankruptcy). Few sale applications are in fact made
within that one-year period. It may be anticipated that, at least where there are children,
sale would rarely be ordered.
After the year, it is enacted that the interests of the creditors outweigh all other con-
siderations ‘unless the circumstances of the case are exceptional’. What is meant by
exceptional? The leading case is Re Citro.33 Though it was decided on the law before the
Insolvency Act, the Court of Appeal recognised that it was applying the same test as in
section 335A. The picture that emerges from Re Citro is that bankruptcy inevitably
involves stresses and disadvantages: homes are lost and schooling may be disrupted. This
does not render the circumstances exceptional. In the words of Nourse LJ, these ‘are the
melancholy consequences of debt and improvidence with which every civilised society
has been familiar’. Sale was ordered.
So what will count as exceptional? Re Holliday 34 was the only case cited in Re Citro in 12
which sale had not been ordered. It was explained in Re Citro as a case in which the
Trusts of land
bankrupt (rather than the creditors) had instigated the bankruptcy. Furthermore, the
bankrupt’s assets covered the debts so that the creditors could be sure that their debts
would be repaid. Such facts are uncommon. Subsequent cases have held that sale should
be postponed where there are severe health problems that might be exacerbated by sale
(chemotherapy for cancer has provided one example). Other situations that may justify
postponing sale are where premises have been specially adapted for a disabled family
member, or children are taking important examinations.
Sale is clearly the normal outcome. One quite recent development emerges from a
drive to enable individuals to emerge from bankruptcy relatively quickly. This normally
allows property to revert to the bankrupt individual three years after bankruptcy.35 It is
difficult to gauge the effect of this on sale. Though the three-year period can be extended,
it might be regarded as an encouragement to trustees in bankruptcy not to delay in seek-
ing sale and as an indication that courts should avoid lengthy postponements of sale.
Equally interesting is whether the present law can be attacked on human rights grounds,
placing stress on the Article 8 right to respect for home and family life. In Barca v
Mears,36 Strauss QC considered that failure to take account of moderately common con-
sequences of losing the family home, despite their severe effects upon the parties, might
be inconsistent with Article 8. This is more an attack on the interpretation of exceptional
circumstances in Re Citro than on section 335A.
Strauss QC treats Re Citro as providing that ‘however disastrous the consequences
may be to family life, if they are of the usual kind then they cannot be relied on under
section 335A’. Yet might not disastrous consequences render the circumstances excep-
tional? The essence of Re Citro is that simply losing one’s home or having schooling inter-
rupted is not enough. To take a specific example (not far from the facts of Barca v Mears),
suppose a disabled child has to attend a specific school and this would not be possible if
33
[1991] Ch 142.
34
[1981] Ch 405.
35
Insolvency Act 1986, s 283A, added by Enterprise Act 2002.
36
[2005] 2 FLR 1.
165
his home were sold. This would surely be exceptional, just as stress can be exceptional if
linked to a dangerous medical condition.
In Barca, the bankrupt (separated from his son’s mother) argued that the schooling of
his son (who had special educational needs) would be affected by sale of the house.
Strauss QC was not impressed by this argument, as the son could live with his mother
(as he already did for part of the week) and remain in the same school. It was therefore
unnecessary for him to decide the human rights point, as sale would be ordered in any
event.
Underpinning all of this is the more fundamental question whether the law should
give preference to creditors after a year. If the bankrupt co-owner had sought sale, it
might well have been refused on the basis that sale would be inconsistent with the pur-
pose for which the land was bought and the needs of the children. Is there sufficient
justification for putting the creditors in a better position and disapplying the section 15
criteria? It may be material that the Cork Committee,37 whose recommendations led to
the 1986 legislation, had recommended a more open-ended discretion.
The question is a difficult one. Creditors will get no benefit from the bankrupt’s prop-
erty unless the land is sold, while the other family members get the benefit of the entire
property (not just their beneficial shares). On the other hand, as indicated above, why
should those having beneficial interests be worse off because of the financial misfortune
of another family member? Two factors might be added. The first is that the bankrupt
may still be living in the premises. The interests of the bankrupt are (justifiably) excluded
from consideration even in the initial one-year period, but this does not mean that the
bankrupt may not in fact continue to enjoy the benefits of the property. The second is
that we appear to have few qualms about allowing chargees from both co-owners to
sell under their powers as mortgagees. If we allow mortgagees to sell, evicting partners
and children, why should we be troubled by sale to satisfy the needs of creditors on
bankruptcy?
A rather different point is that the benefit to creditors from selling the family home
might be small. We have already seen one example of this in Re Holliday where (unusu-
ally) the assets exceeded the debts, so that delay in selling caused the creditors no harm.
Another situation is where the bankrupt’s interest in the home is worth a very small
amount, usually because there are large mortgage debts charged on the land (the
mortgage will be repaid before the creditors receive anything). In this situation, the dis-
ruption to the family from sale may be thought to outweigh the very limited benefits to
the creditors on sale. This is dealt with, albeit in a rather timid manner, by the Enterprise
Act 2002.38 Sale will not be ordered if the bankrupt’s interest is worth less than £1,000.
Some other countries give more extensive protection. Thus in New Zealand39 there
is protection where the value of the house (after deducting charges) is less than approxi-
mately £30,000.
37
Cork Committee on Insolvency Law and Practice (1982) Cmnd 8558, especially paras 1118–1123 and
1129–1131.
38
Inserting Insolvency Act 1986, s 313A.
39
Joint Family Homes Act 1964, ss 16–19.
166
● Secured creditors
Secured creditors (those to whom a beneficial interest has been mortgaged or charged)
have provided the focus of most TLATA cases. Before dealing with the cases, we should
consider the role of secured debts in trusts of land. English courts generally accept that
the law should provide effective ways in which secured creditors can enforce their secu-
rity. If we give too much protection to the family home then the risk is that lenders will
be reluctant to lend money with the home as security: loans may be more difficult to
obtain and interest rates may increase to compensate for the additional risk. Either
consequence might do substantial harm. This would constitute a particular problem for
small businesses seeking loans, as the homes of proprietors of those businesses are often
the only property on which loans can be secured.
However, it is extremely rare for there to be a charge explicitly over a beneficial 12
co-ownership interest. Such charges are difficult to enforce. Sale of the equitable interest
Trusts of land
is not feasible as there is no market in equitable interests. Sale of the home would be
effective, but that requires a section 14 application and sale cannot be counted upon. It
follows that virtually all lenders insist on an unincumbered legal fee simple as security;
this requires a charge by all the co-owners together. Such a charge overreaches the
beneficial interests and there is no need for a TLATA section 14 application. The land can
be sold under the normal powers of sale conferred on mortgagees.
Charges of beneficial interests are generally found in three situations. The first is where the
signature of one co-owner on the charge has been forged. Unsurprisingly, the innocent
co-owner is not affected by the charge. There is, however, a charge over the forger’s
interest. The second situation operates as follows. Suppose Allan is the legal owner of a
house, holding it on a constructive trust for himself and his partner Belinda. Charles lends
money to Allan, believing him to be the sole owner and entitled to charge the house.
Allan’s charge to Charles is ineffective as regards Belinda, as her actual occupation gives her
an overriding interest binding Charles. The final situation applies whether the co-ownership
is legal or merely equitable. Lenders will rarely lend money unless both co-owners join
the charge. They will be identified either by being on the deeds or register (legal co-
ownership) or from being in joint occupation of the land (beneficial co-ownership).
It happens all too frequently that the signature of one co-owner is procured by fraud,
misrepresentation or undue influence by their partner. Unless the lender has followed
procedures discussed in Chapter 18, the charge will fail as against the victim.
In all three situations, the courts hold there to be an effective charge over the benefi-
cial interest of the wrongdoing co-owner (the borrower, in each case). However, it is
important to note that this is a form of consolation prize: it isn’t what the lender was
setting out to achieve. Accordingly, court refusal to order sale would be most unlikely to
have a marked effect on lenders. A lender who is aware of a risk of the charge not bind-
ing both co-owners is very unlikely to lend in the first place.
A different sort of case concerns the holder of a charging order. If a person is owed
money, that person can apply to court for a charge over the assets of the debtor. The
creditor thereby becomes a secured creditor and can sell the assets to obtain payment of
the debt. Again, it is not a case in which the creditor sets out at the time of the loan to
167
become a secured creditor. Charging orders are designed to ensure that debts should be
paid. There is little reason why they should operate to the detriment of members of the
debtor’s family.
Leaving these points on one side, the secured creditor obviously has an interest in
realising the debtor’s beneficial interest. In practical terms, this can be achieved only by
selling the land. Unlike trustees in bankruptcy, secured creditors have to seek sale within
the normal TLATA sections 14 and 15 rules. It is very significant that section 15(1)(d)
identifies the interests of the secured creditors as a matter for the court to take into
account.
To understand the TLATA cases, regard must be had to the way the law had previously
been developing. It will be recalled that the purpose for which land was purchased was
a crucial factor in deciding whether it should be sold. At first sight, the family home pur-
pose seems to continue notwithstanding financial problems. Nevertheless, the courts
adopted an approach that was extremely favourable to secured creditors. Starting in the
bankruptcy context, the courts developed a distinctly artificial idea that the family home
purpose was dependent upon co-owners keeping their interests in the land.40 The pass-
ing of the interest to the trustee in bankruptcy therefore marked the termination of the
purpose. Since the Insolvency Act 1986 section 335A established rules for sale on bank-
ruptcy, it has no longer been necessary to refer to purposes and to explain that they have
terminated on bankruptcy. Nevertheless, the courts continued to apply the pre-1986 rea-
soning to secured charges: entering into the secured charge was sufficient to terminate
the purpose. In addition, the courts applied the test of exceptional circumstances (simi-
larly developed from bankruptcy) to secured creditors.
Turning to TLATA, a few initial points can be made. First, the tests in sections 14 and
15 make no reference to exceptional circumstances (they are relevant only on bank-
ruptcy). Next, it is crystal clear that there is no need to torture the meaning of purpose
to justify sale: today, it is simply one factor for the courts to take into account. Finally, the
interests of secured creditors are recognised as a relevant factor for the first time. The
inference from this is that they are not a conclusive factor.
It was against this background that Neuberger J reviewed the law in Mortgage Corpn
v Shaire.41 He concluded that the old cases are no longer persuasive in the light of the
new statutory structure in TLATA. This is significant, even though we may think that the
older cases remain important in disputes between co-owners.42 The decision that (unlike
the pre-TLATA law) secured creditors do not automatically succeed may be welcomed: it
gives the court a wider discretion to allow co-owners to keep their homes. Nevertheless,
it is just the beginning of our analysis. We shall see that the interests of secured creditors
are still accorded significant weight.
In Shaire itself, the non-debtor co-owner had a three-quarters share in the house. If there
were sale, the debtor’s remaining one-quarter share would be available for the creditor.
Neuberger J considered whether there was a way to ensure that the creditor would get
40
Re Citro [1991] Ch 142.
41
[2001] Ch 743.
42
See p. 155, above.
168
its money while leaving the co-owner in possession of the house. On the facts, the debtor’s
share was worth around £55,000. Though he owed far more, that was as much as
the creditor could get from a sale. Neuberger J was prepared to accept a result whereby
that sum was converted into a secured charge on the co-owner’s land, with her owning
it all and paying interest of £55,000. As the land was valuable, the creditor could be sure
of getting £55,000 back in the future. To put it another way, the creditor was being asked
to exchange a secured charge over the debtor’s share (the debtor paying interest) for a
secured charge over the entire house (the co-owner paying interest).
In reaching this conclusion, Neuberger J regarded it as important that the creditor was
protected. If the co-owner was unwilling or unable to agree to the charge being trans-
ferred to the land, then the house would be sold. On the facts of Shaire, it was feasible
for the co-owner to pay interest because the case involved a relatively small sum: around
£55,000. In future cases, we will need to ask whether the co-owner can afford interest 12
on both any acquisition mortgage (which binds the co-owner, of course) and the value
Trusts of land
of the debtor’s share.43 In most cases, the creditor will have a claim over a much larger
share than 25 per cent and the co-owner will be unable to pay interest on its value.
Subsequent cases in the Court of Appeal have emphasised the need to provide ad-
equate protection for the creditor. This was made particularly clear in Bank of Ireland
Home Mortgages Ltd v Bell.44 The co-owner had a small share and, as will be common,
had no chance of paying interest on the value of the debtor’s share. Sale was ordered.
Although we no longer apply the pre-TLATA tests, the preference accorded to secured
creditors seems little changed. In balancing the criteria in section 15, the courts appear
to be giving precedence to the para (d) interests of creditors.
Perhaps the only hope for the co-owner, at least where the Shaire solution is not
feasible, is to rely on the interests of children: section 15(1)(c). First National Bank plc v
Achampong45 plays down this factor: the Court of Appeal readily ordered sale when there
was no evidence that sale would cause specific harm to the children’s welfare. On the
other hand, the subsequent decision of Park J in Edwards v Lloyds TSB Bank plc46 pro-
vides more scope for optimism. Sale was postponed where more significant harm to the
children was likely (no adequate alternative accommodation could be afforded) and the
creditors were amply protected by the strength of the security. Even though sale might
be postponed, the creditors could be sure of getting their money back sooner or later. It
will come as no surprise that this scenario is uncommon: by the time creditors take action
it is usual for the borrower to be insolvent.
Stepping back from these details, can we justify the fact that TLATA gives special pro-
tection to secured creditors? After all, if the debtor would have been unable to obtain
sale, why should the debtor’s chargee be in a better position? Unlike many creditors on
bankruptcy, the secured creditor has chosen to lend money to a co-owner who has
limited rights to the land. Yet it might be unrealistic to refuse sale. If that happens, Alliance
43
This assumes that the debt exceeds the value of the share. Otherwise, the debtor retains a share in the
house.
44
[2001] 2 FLR 809.
45
[2004] 1 FCR 18.
46
[2005] 1 FCR 139. Compare Re Holliday [1981] Ch 405 as regards bankruptcy: p. 165, above.
169
and Leicester plc v Slayford 47 illustrates the almost inevitable consequence that the
debtor will be declared bankrupt and that sale will follow under the provisions discussed
above. Surely it is preferable to enable the secured creditor to employ the easier, less dis-
ruptive and less expensive solution of a sale under sections 14 and 15? We might doubt
whether the bankruptcy rules themselves are justifiable, but to ignore them would be
short-sighted.
● Other successors in title

As with secured creditors, the context is that of dealings with the beneficial interest,
rather than the legal ownership of the land. The most obvious case would be a purchaser
of a co-owner’s share. We have seen that secured charges over beneficial interests are rarely
created intentionally. For comparable reasons, sales of beneficial interests are equally rare;
this explains why such sales virtually never feature in the cases. A more likely scenario is
where a tenant in common dies and their personal representatives (or a successor in
title under a will) seek sale.
The most useful authority is a pre-TLATA case on secured creditors: Abbey National plc v
Moss.48 The facts were unusual in that the purpose of a purchase by mother and daughter
was occupation by the mother. Because the purpose was not for joint occupation, the
court held that it survived a charge by the daughter. On that basis, the court held that
the purpose affected the chargee and the land should not be sold. Where the purpose
continues, it therefore seems that successors in title are in no better position than the
original co-owner.
In the context of secured creditors, the status of Moss today must be doubted. Now
that the interests of secured creditors are taken into account, it is likely that the pro-sale
approach in the section 15(1)(d) cases would apply even where the occupation purpose
is still continuing.
For other successors in title (purchasers, for example), the position is less clear. Their
interests are not mentioned by section 15, though it must be remembered that the
section 15 criteria are not exclusive: a court could still properly take their interests into
account. Unlike the position at the time of Moss, the purpose of the co-owners’ purchase
is no longer such a dominant factor. A relevant factor is that, without sale, the successor
will obtain no benefit from the interest, given that there will (almost certainly) be no right
to occupy under TLATA section 12.
A further question is how far the collateral purpose does survive dealings with the
beneficial interest. This was discussed in the earlier secured charges cases, though it has
now faded from the picture. Since TLATA, purposes should be viewed more flexibly, given
that they are no longer determinative of the outcome. Thus in Edwards v Lloyds TSB Bank
plc49 Park J thought the purpose of a family home could ‘in part’ survive the failure of
the marriage. This enabled the interests of the occupying co-owner (with those of the
children) to be balanced against those of the secured creditors. If purposes can continue
47
[2000] 33 HLR 743.
48
[1994] 1 FLR 307.
49
[2005] 1 FCR 139 at [29].
170
despite relationship breakdown, it should be far easier for purposes to survive dealings
with a beneficial interest.
Problems are most likely to arise when a beneficial interest passes on the death of a
co-owner (rather than on purchase). Can the new holder of the interest seek sale? Suppose
Frances and Gerry are tenants in common, living together. Gerry dies without making a
will. His property goes to his mother Henrietta, who disapproves of Frances. Can Henrietta
force a sale? The answer is likely to turn on whether we see the purpose as being for the
occupation for the co-owners and whoever is the survivor, or just for their joint occupa-
tion. The cases give no clear answer, though Shaire leans against the purpose continuing
after death. It may be thought that this is an unrealistically narrow interpretation of the
intentions of a couple buying a family home. The more flexible approach of Park J in
Edwards seems preferable. It does not mean that a house cannot be sold, rather that pro-
viding a home for the survivor is one relevant consideration. The fact that the successor 12
in title has not paid for their interest reduces the weight of the argument that sale is the
Trusts of land
only way in which they can benefit from their interest.
● Conclusions
These categories of bankruptcy, secured creditors and successors in title all provide diffi-
cult questions. For the first two categories, the statutory provisions and cases support sale
in most situations. Although it is not clear that such a blanket approach is justified, the
social and economic considerations are so complex that the balance between creditors
and co-owners is bound to be difficult to draw. The most that can be said is that we
cannot justify a simple rule that either creditor or co-owner should always succeed.

C AS E
in this chapter:
Bank of Ireland Home Mortgages Ltd v Bell [2001] 2 FLR 809 A
R
N
V I G AT O
City of London Building Society v Flegg [1988] 2 AC 54 POWERED BY
171
13 Leases: types and

requirements

he lease is a right to possess land for a certain maximum period – indeterminate peri-
T ods are the preserve of freehold estates. The attraction of a lease is fairly obvious.
Not everybody can afford to buy land or wishes to take on the commitment involved in
ownership: the opportunity to have a right to land for a fixed period is then really import-
ant. Suppose Andrew is going abroad in a year’s time. Until then, he is looking for some-
where to live. It makes no sense for him to purchase a house and then sell it a year later.
Alternatively, Brenda is setting up a business and needs office space. The business cannot
afford to buy offices: a lease whereby an annual rent is payable is ideal for her. It also
works well if her business expands and she needs to move to larger premises: a short-term
lease involves limited commitment and can be sold, if necessary.
Chapter 14 considers many of the consequences of there being a lease: what obliga-
tions are involved, how they are enforced and against whom they can be enforced. The
present chapter considers the requirements for there to be a valid lease and the various
types of leases. The most common form of lease is the ‘term of years’, an agreement whereby
there is a lease for a specified period. Because this is by far the most common form of lease,
most of this chapter is devoted to it. Mention might also be made of periodic tenancies.
These last for a year, month or week and automatically renew themselves unless either
party serves notice to terminate them.
Unsurprisingly, leases are very common. They are also very flexible. As the examples
above show, they can be used for residential and business purposes. Most shops and
offices are leased rather than owner-occupied. This is particularly appropriate when there
is a block of offices or a row of shops. The block or row can be developed by a person who
then leases them out. The landlord can retain overall control so as to ensure that the
premises remain in proper repair and, at the end of their useful life, are redeveloped in a
coherent fashion. Leases of houses are also common. A hundred years ago, 90 per cent
of houses were held under leases. Today, most people prefer to own their houses, but the
numbers leased are still close to 30 per cent (most from local authorities or bodies such
as housing associations).
We have been concentrating on the attractions of leases for tenants. They are also use-
ful for landlords, who retain ultimate ownership and can use or redevelop the land in the
172
future. In addition, land subject to leases is easily sold. The purchaser will view it as a good
investment, producing a safe income (rent). Many pension funds and insurance com-
panies are substantial owners of offices, shops and factories, while many individuals buy
houses as an investment to rent out.
The flexibility of leases is demonstrated by their length. They can last from a week
(there is no minimum period) to thousands of years. Short leases (perhaps six months
to three years) are ideal where no real commitment is desired, whereas long leases
(perhaps 99 years or more) become almost indistinguishable from ownership. In the
middle are leases which involve some commitment, but which are quite different
from ownership.
For short leases, the value of the premises is reflected in the rent paid: typically around
six per cent of the value of the premises. Long leases are more likely to be granted in return
for a capital sum and a small or nominal rent. However, there can be whatever mixture 13
of capital sum and rent the parties choose.
Leases: types and requirements

One particular use of long leases has been for blocks of flats, where each flat depends
on the remainder of the block being properly maintained. It is difficult to enforce posi-
tive obligations between adjoining freehold owners, which made it inappropriate to sell
the freehold of flats. This led to long leases being used instead, as lease rules (described
in the next chapter) ensure that obligations to repair (or to contribute to repair costs) can
be enforced against a purchaser of the lease. With the recent advent of commonhold,
freehold has become a more viable alternative for flats. Commonhold is dealt with in
Chapter 3.
A final observation is that the lease is one of two legal estates recognised by the Law
of Property Act 1925 (LPA), the other being the fee simple absolute in possession. The
significance of this is that the lease can bind purchasers. In this respect it is quite differ-
ent to a life interest, which is overreached on sale of the land so that it becomes a life
interest in the proceeds of sale. There are two reasons for leases binding purchasers. The
first is that leases are designed for use of the land over the specified period. It would be
disastrous if a shopkeeper could be told to leave shop premises because they have been
sold: that would hugely diminish the attraction of leases. The second is that the presence
of leases has little effect on the willingness of people to buy the freehold: they are happy
to have rental income from the land. By contrast, a life interest brings in no income to
the owner of the land and is of unpredictable duration: nobody wants to buy land sub-
ject to a life interest.

● Requirements of leases
Before going into the rules, it should be remembered that many leases have to be created
by deed (if over three years in duration) and registered (if over seven years). These require-
ments are considered in Chapters 7 and 10. Failure to comply with them may be disastrous:
at best there may be an equitable lease.
173
Certainty requirements: rent, commencement and duration

That the principal terms of leases must be certain should cause little surprise: most agree-
ments, including contracts and trusts, have to satisfy certainty rules.
Looking at rent first, an initial point is that there is no requirement that there be a
rent,1 even though rent is nearly always payable. If no real rent is intended (usually
because the tenant has paid a capital sum, or premium, for the lease), it is common to
provide for a nominal rent (conventionally one peppercorn).
The certainty requirement for rent is no more demanding than for consideration in
any contract. A formula for the calculation of rent is acceptable, which is very important
as longer leases usually provide for the rent to be reviewed, typically every three years.
Certainty of commencement is slightly more complex. It might be noted that leases
can start in the future: there can be a lease to start in up to 21 years’ time. This is more
than an agreement for a future lease: it is an immediate legal lease, with possession post-
poned. The future lease is obviously a trap for purchasers, though it is common to have
leases commencing a few months in the future. We have seen that this trap has led to
registration being required for leases taking effect more than three months in the future,
whatever their length. Knowing the commencement date is important because the
essence of a lease is a right to the land for a specified period. We cannot work this out if
we don’t know when it is to start. Fortunately this is not normally a problem, as leases
can be construed to take effect immediately if no date is specified.
However, certainty of duration of leases has caused the greatest difficulty. It is not
surprising that the duration of the lease must be certain, as duration is a very significant
aspect within any lease. However, the maximum duration of a lease must be specified in
years (or other time measurement) at the beginning of the lease. The facts of Lace v
Chantler 2 illustrate the point well. The parties agreed that the lease should last for the
duration of the Second World War. This was struck down by the Court of Appeal because
the maximum duration was not clear: nobody knew how long the war would last. It
should be noted that the lease would have been valid if it had been for five years, but
terminable on the ending of the war. This contrast shows that there is no problem in
being able to work out the duration of the war. Rather, there is technical requirement for
the maximum duration to be known at the outset.
The result was confirmed more recently by the House of Lords in Prudential Assurance
Co Ltd v London Residuary Body.3 Some cases had regarded Lace as too technical and
had attempted to circumvent it by employing a periodic tenancy, which they held could
be made terminable only on the uncertain event. This form of the periodic tenancy was
rejected by the House of Lords, which reinstated the Lace rule in its full vigour. Accord-
ingly, a lease until land was required for road widening (which had not materialised
60 years later) was held void.
This is well justified in terms of the authorities, but does it serve any useful purpose?
In Prudential, Lord Browne-Wilkinson scathingly observed: ‘No one has produced any
1
LPA, s 205(1)(xxvii).
2
[1944] KB 368.
3
[1992] 2 AC 386.
174
satisfactory rationale for the genesis of this rule. No one has been able to point to any
useful purpose that it serves at the present day.’ The only explanation that seems at all
convincing is that an interest of uncertain duration falls into the freehold category. The
very essence of a lease involves an interest that will last a specified amount of time: Lace
and Prudential fail that test. Yet the agreements in these cases do not look like freehold
estates. Indeed, in Lace a determinable life interest was specifically rejected. The fact that
the grantee is paying rent makes it look like a lease and nothing else. We may have dis-
covered why the rule exists, but it is difficult to believe that it is essential for telling the
difference between leasehold and freehold estates.
Exclusive possession
A principal hallmark of any lease or tenancy is that the grantee obtains exclusive pos-
session. A lease has been regarded as involving temporary property ownership (though 13
a tenant is usually restricted in how the land can be used) and it is exclusive possession
that lies at the heart of this.

An example where there is no exclusive possession is staying in a hotel overnight. The
visitor may be entitled to stay until, say, 11 a.m., but this does not mean that there is a
lease over the hotel room. The visitor is a licensee rather than a tenant: simply somebody
who is permitted to be there. It might be objected that the hotel could not put another
guest in the same room, so that there appears to be exclusive possession. The answer to
this is that the law distinguishes between exclusive possession and exclusive occupation.
The visitor may well enjoy exclusive occupation. However, the right of the hotel to enter
the room to clean and service it (and generally control its use) means that there is no
exclusive possession.
One commonly quoted case is Clore v Theatrical Properties Ltd,4 in which the pur-
ported lessee had ‘front of the house’ rights at a theatre. These are rights to sell refresh-
ments and programmes and to manage cloakrooms. The owner of the theatre still enjoyed
rights and duties over the relevant area, including performing acts of maintenance such
as fixing problems with the lights. The Court of Appeal held that the purported lessee did
not have exclusive possession and therefore could not have a lease. This has never been
doubted. There are numerous borderline cases, mostly in the context of lodgers (dis-
cussed later in this chapter).
It is perfectly clear, therefore, that without exclusive possession there cannot be a
lease. The question that has been more troublesome is whether the presence of exclusive
possession (at least if combined with a certain duration) is conclusive that there is a lease.
This has caused much litigation over the past few decades and is considered under
‘Critical and controversial issues’.
● Types of lease
As mentioned, the most obvious and common form of lease is the term of years absolute
for a fixed period. This can be a legal estate, even if it takes effect in the future and even
4
[1936] 3 All ER 483.
175
though it may be cut short according to its terms. An example of the latter would be a
lease for five years that can be forfeited if the tenant breaches the covenants. This does
not prevent its being absolute.
Periodic tenancies
An example of a periodic tenancy is where I agree with Mia that she shall possess a
garage (for parking her car) on a weekly basis. Once this is agreed, the tenancy will con-
tinue until either of us gives notice to terminate it. This periodic tenancy is very flexible.
It commits us for no more than a week, while establishing a basis upon which Mia could
use the garage for decades – if that continues to suit both of us. It is not regarded as a
series of separate tenancies each a week long, but as one single tenancy. Mia has a weekly
tenancy, but there can just as easily be monthly or yearly tenancies.
Periodic tenancies have been very common in past centuries, both for agricultural land
(where a yearly tenancy was used to fit in with the growing season) and housing. Their
use has diminished over the past century, largely because they offer insufficient protec-
tion to tenants. Today, leases are more likely to be for a specific period, which the parties
can later choose to extend.
Basic principles
Periodic tenancies are subject to the same principles as terms of years absolute. How do
they satisfy the requirement of certain maximum duration? The answer is that at any one
time there is a maximum duration: one week, month or year. We do not bother that they
may go on for a further week, etc. if there is no notice to terminate them. However,
we have seen that Prudential held that one cannot disguise a lease of uncertain duration
simply by clothing it with a periodic tenancy. Thus a provision that the landlord shall not
terminate a yearly periodic tenancy in the first five years would be valid (there is a cer-
tain period), whereas saying that it cannot be terminated until the landlord returns from
abroad would be struck down.
A rather separate point is that a periodic tenancy can be legal: it fits within the LPA
definition of a term of years absolute. It is effective even though there is no deed or
writing, as formalities are not normally required for leases not exceeding three years.
Creation
Periodic tenancies can be created explicitly, but in past decades they were commonly
implied from the payment of rent. This enabled somebody paying rent to be recognised
(albeit for a short period) as a tenant. It was especially important for tenant farmers, who
would be protected during a growing season if it were a yearly tenancy. The period
chosen by the courts would be that for the calculation of rent. Thus if Andrew agreed
£12,000 a year rent to Belinda, paying £1,000 monthly, there would be a yearly tenancy.
It would be yearly because we look to the calculation of the rent, not the frequency of
payment. Two particular circumstances in which periodic tenancies were implied were
where the parties had failed to enter into a formal lease (whether because negotiations
were incomplete or because they had not complied with the formality requirements) and
where a tenant remained on the land, paying rent, after a lease had come to an end.
176
Today, it is far less likely that the courts will imply such periodic tenancies. Following
cases such as Javad v Aqil,5 the courts will imply a periodic tenancy only where the parties
really intend a lease. This is unlikely where (as in Javad) the parties are still negotiating
the terms of the future lease. The reason for the modern approach is that statutory
consequences may flow from there being a periodic tenancy: these are unlikely to be
intended if negotiations have not been concluded.
Terms
It has been seen that a periodic tenancy may be implied when an intended lease fails for
non-compliance with formality requirements. Which terms of the ineffective lease will be
implied into the periodic tenancy? The courts take the sensible approach that it depends
on the nature of the term: only those that make sense for a short lease (as a periodic
tenancy potentially is) will be implied. Thus a term in the failed lease not to use the land 13
for business purposes would more readily be implied into a periodic tenancy than an

onerous obligation on the tenant to repair.
Termination
It has already been stressed that either party can terminate a periodic tenancy by giving
notice that it should come to an end. The length of the notice can be expressly stipulated,
but the courts have established rules as to what constitutes reasonable notice. These
require six months for a yearly tenancy and the length of the period (week or month) for
others.
The single real difficulty concerns the position where there are joint periodic tenants
(or landlords). Suppose a couple, Liam and Michelle, are joint monthly tenants of a flat.
They break up and Liam leaves the flat. Can Liam by himself give notice to the landlord
to terminate the tenancy?
Two background points may be mentioned. First, joint holders of interests normally
have to act together. Suppose there had been a three-year lease with a right for the
tenants to extend it for a further two years. Liam and Michelle would have to act together
in order to extend it. The second background point is that, should Liam be able to give
notice to terminate the joint periodic tenancy, this would be disastrous for Michelle, who
would find herself evicted from her home without having done anything wrong.
The problem has been most common for joint periodic tenancies of houses owned by
local authorities. The local authority may well be rehousing Liam and take the view that
the house is too large for the remaining tenant (Michelle). Accordingly, they may tell
Liam that he will be provided with alternative accommodation only if he gives notice. It
should be noted that statutory protections prevent the local authority from terminating
the periodic tenancy: an effective notice by Liam would circumvent those protections.
This issue arose in the controversial case of Hammersmith and Fulham LBC v Monk.6
The House of Lords held that the notice by one joint tenant was effective to terminate
the periodic tenancy. This may seem odd, as the notice might be seen as a positive act
5
[1991] 1 WLR 1007.
6
[1992] 1 AC 478.
177
that should require the participation of both joint tenants. A notice to terminate, just like
a notice to extend, might be thought to require joint participation. However, the House
of Lords used a largely contractual analysis, supported by earlier authority. Each joint
tenant has entered into a commitment for just one month. If one could not terminate
the periodic tenancy then this would be an inexplicable extension of liability (to pay rent)
beyond what has been agreed, which could last for decades. This might be seen as part
of an increasing tendency (discussed in Chapter 14) to apply contractual principles to
leases.
Monk has been widely criticised because of its effect on the security of tenure of the
other joint periodic tenant (Michelle). Though attempts to circumvent it (including human
rights arguments) have been swept aside by the English courts, the Law Commission has
recommended its reversal for residential tenancies.7 More immediately, tenants of local
authorities may be able to rely on human rights arguments following the decision of the
European Court of Human Rights in McCann v United Kingdom,8 where the facts were
based on a Monk notice. McCann is part of a controversial series of cases, discussed in
the human rights context.9
Equitable leases
Suppose Martha leases a house to Norman for four years. Though they both sign the
lease, the document is not witnessed and so does not satisfy the requirements for a deed.
There is no legal lease because a deed is required for leases over three years. The payment
of rent may give rise to a periodic tenancy, but that may be terminated by giving notice.
In these circumstances, the courts will treat the transaction as an agreement for a
lease. The courts will then enforce that agreement. In particular, because specific per-
formance is available, equity treats Norman as if there were a lease. It is this that enables
us to say that there is an equitable lease for four years.
Before proceeding further, it should be noted that equitable leases themselves have
formality requirements. Section 2 of the Law of Property (Miscellaneous Provisions) Act 1989
requires any contract for an interest in land (this includes a lease) to be in writing signed
by both parties. If there is such writing (as there was in the Martha and Norman example)
then the equitable lease analysis will work. However, if there is simply an oral agreement
or an exchange of letters then there will be no contract and no equitable lease.
The effect of the equitable lease is what is most interesting. One clear point is that it
is more powerful than the periodic tenancy. With a monthly tenancy, the landlord could
get rid of the tenant after just a month. If there is an equitable lease, then notice to
terminate cannot be given until the equitable lease has ended. Does this mean that the
equitable lease is as good as a legal lease? The leading case of Walsh v Lonsdale10 sug-
gests that it is, to the extent of denying that there is a periodic tenancy at all. The question
in the case was whether the landlord of an equitable lease could seize the tenant’s goods
7
Law Com No 297, paras 2.44, 4.12.
8
[2008] 2 FLR 899.
9
See p. 30 above.
10
(1882) 21 Ch D 9.
178
on the premises when rent was not paid. Though this remedy, distress, was thought to
be the preserve of legal leases, the court applied it to equitable leases.
However, it would be wrong to conclude that equitable leases are identical to legal
leases. Three elements may be mentioned. The first is that the equitable lease analysis
depends on the availability of specific performance. If for any reason specific performance
is not available (it might be precluded by bad conduct on the part of the tenant), then
the equitable lease analysis collapses.
The second point is that equitable leases are plainly less powerful when it comes to
binding purchasers. Short legal leases (not exceeding seven years) bind purchasers as
overriding interests.11 This does not apply to equitable leases, though they will bind if
entered on the register or combined with actual occupation.
The third point is that not every rule applicable to leases will apply to equitable leases.
One fairly technical example is that statute implies easements into legal leases. The 13
legislation refers to ‘conveyances’, which includes leases but not contracts for leases. The

statute therefore does not imply easements into equitable leases. The number of these
examples is fairly small, reflecting the modern trend to minimise the differences between
legal and equitable rights. Nevertheless, it is simply wrong to assume that there are no
differences.
Tenancies at will
Tenancies at will are quite different from the leases described above in that there is no
term: no length of time for which the tenancy lasts. Instead, either party can terminate
it at any time (hence it is ‘at will’). It is a relationship between the parties rather than an
estate.
In recent decades, the tenancy at will has been eclipsed by the licence (permission
to enter land). This is especially the case where there is a gratuitous permission to take
possession. However, the courts are also tempted to use the licence where there is
consideration but no legal or equitable lease. This is because, as seen in Chapter 15, the
consideration may render the licence irrevocable as between the parties. By contrast,
the tenancy at will can be terminated at any time.
Nevertheless, the courts do not take an entirely consistent stance. The tenancy at will
is still encountered in some situations, including taking possession while a purchase is
being negotiated.
Tenancy at sufferance
The tenancy at sufferance is similar to the tenancy at will in that there is no term and it
can be terminated at any time. It operates in one specific context: where a tenant retains
possession at the end of a lease. If the landlord consents to this, then there will be a
tenancy at will or periodic tenancy. If the landlord tells the tenant to leave, then it will be
a simple case of trespass. It is where the tenant remains there with nothing being said
that there is a tenancy at sufferance. It seems dubious whether the category is worth
retaining.
11
Land Registration Act 2002, Sched 3, para 1. This would include a periodic tenancy.
179
Special forms of lease

Tenancy by estoppel
It sometimes happens that the landlord does not own an estate capable of supporting a
lease. Usually this is because of an innocent cause: there may be a technical defect in the
landlord’s title or the landlord may be in the final stages of negotiating to buy the land.
In these circumstances, the law sets out to treat the position as if there were a normal
lease. Obviously, if the true owner seeks to evict the tenant then there cannot be a lease.
Otherwise, neither party can get out of obligations in the lease by arguing that the land
is not the landlord’s to lease. If (as often happens) the landlord later acquires a legal title
then the lease automatically becomes a full legal lease from that time: this is described
as feeding the estoppel.
Leases for life

In the introduction to this chapter, it was noted that there is a sharp contrast between
leases and life interests. The lease is a legal interest that may bind purchasers, whereas a
life interest can only be equitable and will not affect purchasers (by overreaching, it takes
effect as a life interest in the proceeds of sale).
Normally, these categories are clearly distinct, but the lease for life provides something
of a hybrid. The payment of rent makes it look like a lease, whereas its lasting for life
makes it look like a life interest. The modern law adopts a functional approach, treating
the true character of the interest as turning on whether there is rent. Where there is rent,
it takes effect as a lease for 90 years, terminable by notice on death.12 This ensures that
there is a legal term of years. If there is no rent, it will be an equitable right taking effect
under a trust of land and can be overreached.
Perpetually renewable leases

It is fairly common to insert a provision in a lease that the tenant has an option to renew
the lease. We refer to a lease as being perpetually renewable if each new lease has a term
allowing renewal. If the tenant keeps on exercising the right, then the resulting leases
could last for ever.
The 1925 legislation converts a perpetually renewable lease into a 2,000-year lease,13
terminable by the tenant at any of the renewal periods.
Discontinuous leases
A typical lease would give a right to possession of the premises for, say, five years. An
alternative type of arrangement is to give Bertha a right to possession for the first two
weeks of May for the next ten years. This is called a discontinuous lease; it is clear that
there is not a continuous ten-year right to possession. It is not an entirely different legal
category of lease, but rather a specific and rather unusual example of the application of
normal leases rules.
12
LPA, s 149(6). Similar rules apply to leases until marriage.
13
LPA 1922, s 145, Sched 15.
180
We have seen that all discontinuous leases, however short, have to be registered. This
avoids purchasers being bound by a lease that is not readily discoverable.

In this chapter, we consider just one issue. This is whether exclusive possession always
results in a lease, provided that other requirements (such as a certain term) are satisfied.
Exclusive possession is, of course, always required for a lease, but it need not follow that
it always results in a lease. This has given rise to a mountain of litigation over the past
few decades.
13
● Importance and early history

A century ago, the lease was used to explain many examples of exclusive possession. The
practical effects of this were limited: the landlord was rarely worse off by virtue of there
being a lease.
From the early years of the twentieth century onwards, there has been increasing legal
regulation of the relationship between landlord and tenant. There have, at various times,
been controls over rent levels, the right to terminate leases (even after the term has come
to an end) and duties to repair. These controls have been most marked in the context of
housing, given the natural desire to protect people in their homes and the weak bargain-
ing position of the residential tenant.
By the 1970s, the effect of these controls was to make it financially disastrous to
create leases of houses: a short lease could reduce the value by half. It is unsurprising that
landlords sought to create licences, simple permission to use land, rather than leases.
Licences had always played a role as regards lodging agreements (generally over a room
rather than a house). This was because a lodger does not enjoy exclusive possession: the
owner provides services and has a right to enter the room.
The courts began to expand the role of licences, even where there was exclusive pos-
session, where they thought a lease would be inappropriate. One well-known example is
Marcroft Wagons Ltd v Smith,14 in which a landlord allowed a tenant’s daughter to remain
temporarily after the tenant’s death. The landlord needed the land and refused her a new
tenancy, but no immediate steps were taken to evict her and she paid the same rent as
her mother. The daughter claimed to be a tenant so that she could not be evicted. The
court considered that it would be wrong to treat the daughter as a tenant so that she
could stay there indefinitely: this would be to tell landlords that they ought immediately
to evict occupiers following the death of a tenant. There was held to be a licence.
The analysis in Marcroft and other cases in the decades following the Second World
War was that exclusive possession is not conclusive. At the same time, the court was
insistent that the parties could not simply say that they didn’t want a lease: that would
14
[1951] 2 KB 496.
181
allow them to exclude the legislation protecting tenants. Initially, landlords attempted to
insert terms whereby tenants appeared not to have exclusive possession. The courts saw
through most of these devices.
By the 1970s, this approach was shifting towards a bolder recognition of licences
where the landlord simply made it clear that a lease is not intended. This led to the deci-
sion of the House of Lords in Street v Mountford,15 still the leading authority in the area.
● Street v Mountford
Street involved an agreement that unambiguously made it clear that it was not intended
to operate as a lease. No attempt was made to deny exclusive possession: there were no
technical terms and no hiding of the reality from the occupier. Nevertheless, Lord
Templeman made it very clear that exclusive possession is conclusive that there is a lease,
with only very limited exceptions. At the same time, he adopted a sham analysis to strike
down artificial terms in agreements that purport to show that there is no right to exclu-
sive possession (this is dealt with in the following section).
Earlier cases support Lord Templeman’s assertion that exclusive possession is the
touchstone of a lease. It is, perhaps, fair to add that in these cases it did not matter much
to the parties whether there was a lease or not. It is only in recent decades that the
parties have attempted to create licences. Lord Templeman reasoned that: ‘If exclusive
possession at a rent for a term does not constitute a tenancy then the distinction between
a contractual tenancy and a contractual licence of land becomes wholly unidentifiable.’
He also used a spades and forks analogy: ‘The manufacture of a five-pronged implement
for manual digging results in a fork even if the manufacturer, unfamiliar with the English
language, insists that he intended to make and has made a spade.’
How convincing is this? Legal categories cannot be used unless their requirements are
met. There cannot be a contract without consideration, whatever the parties may say.
Thus there clearly cannot be a lease without exclusive possession. However, when we
look at transactions between parties, it is unusual for legal categories to be foisted on the
parties against their wishes. This is true for contracts and trusts. Interestingly, a few years
after Street the Court of Appeal held that there would not be an easement if the parties
made it clear that none was intended. This makes a nonsense of Lord Templeman’s asser-
tion that the distinction would be ‘unidentifiable’ without an immutable test. Though it
is easy to accept that there will prima facie be a lease (or easement) if the requirements
are satisfied, this need not mean that a clear contrary intention should be ignored.
What about the spades and forks example? It is facile to think that legal and physical
categories must possess the same rules. Furthermore, spades and forks are mutually exclu-
sive. It is different for leases and licences: a lease may be viewed as a subset of licences.
The licence can be seen as a more generalised ‘digging tool’, entirely appropriate whether
one is looking at a spade or a fork.
The reason for Lord Templeman’s approach is not hard to find. Despite protestations
to the contrary, he is influenced by the need to stop the parties contracting out of the
15
[1985] AC 809.
182
statutory protections for tenants. He made this clear a few years later when confirming
the Street approach in AG Securities v Vaughan.16 The reality is that the landlord is in a
position to determine the structure of the agreement. The tenant goes along with it only
because that is the only way to get accommodation. This does seem a good reason for
holding that there is a lease.
Nevertheless, it remains the position that the approach in Street is doctrinally (rather
than policy) based: exclusive possession is normally conclusive that there be a lease. This
is particularly important in the context of business leases. Exclusive possession has been
held to be conclusive in the business context, despite there being no strong policy justi-
fication for insisting on a lease.
In the residential setting, the role of intention seems minimal. The result of Street, as
Lord Templeman asserts, is that the normal choice is as between a single occupier being
a lodger (no exclusive possession) or a tenant. However, in business settings the courts tend 13
to place more stress on the intention of the parties. This is viable because commercial

arrangements vary so much that it is often unclear whether there is exclusive possession.
An intention to have a licence may be relevant in showing that there is no exclusive
possession. Examples are found with rights to operate car parks and filling stations.
Where does Street leave the earlier cases such as Marcroft Wagons? Lord Templeman
rejected their analysis that exclusive possession is not conclusive. However, most of them
(including Marcroft Wagons) were explained as not creating leases because there was no
contract; only three decisions of the Court of Appeal were overruled. This is important
for the credibility of Street: overruling a large number of Court of Appeal decisions would
have reduced the standing of Lord Templeman’s analysis.
● Shams and lodgers

Shams and lodgers are often intertwined in the cases, though the issues can arise inde-
pendently. The essence of a sham is a term that deliberately misleads the reader as to the
true agreement. A good example (not involving lodgers) is found in Antoniades v Villiers.17
There was a lease of a one-bedroom flat, one term of which entitled the owner to intro-
duce other licensees or live there himself. The House of Lords struck this term down as a
sham or pretence. The flat was not suitable for occupation by additional persons: there
was just a small living room and a bedroom. The term had been introduced to make it
look as if there was no exclusive possession. It was not intended to be acted upon and
was accordingly to be ignored.
What is a sham? The classic definition by Diplock LJ (not in the lease context) is a term
‘intended by [the parties] to give to third parties or to the court the appearance of
creating between the parties legal rights and obligations different from the actual legal
rights and obligations (if any) which the parties intend to create’.18 In the leases context,
it is a term that neither party intends to be a true term of the arrangement: nobody
intended in Antoniades that others would live in the flat.
16
[1990] 1 AC 417, considered below in the context of joint occupation.
17
[1990] 1 AC 417.
18
Snook v London & West Riding Investments Ltd [1967] 2 QB 786 at p. 802.
183
In Antoniades, Lord Templeman said that he preferred the term ‘pretence’. It has never
been clear how pretences might be different from shams. At one stage it was thought
that the reference to pretence might lead to a more interventionalist approach, but the
cases lend little support for this. One point worth making is that the analysis of Diplock
LJ stresses the intention of both parties. In the leases context, the landlord’s intention is
all important in causing the term to be struck down: it does not matter that there is no
true joint intention to deceive.
Since Street, the easiest way to avoid a lease is to make the occupier a lodger. A lodger
typically has a room in a house, with cleaning and other services being provided by the
owner. The lodger may enjoy exclusive occupation, in the sense that nobody else can be
allowed to live in the room, but the owner’s rights are so extensive as to preclude exclu-
sive possession.
Before looking at the lodgers cases, two warnings should be added. Even with a lease,
the landlord may be entitled to enter. Often, the landlord will be under a duty to repair and
will have a right to enter both to repair and to check whether repair is needed. Accord-
ingly, it is incorrect to say that any right to enter is inconsistent with exclusive possession.
The second warning is that the courts do not always adopt the language of exclusive
occupation and exclusive possession. It is a useful distinction, but care must be taken
when reading the cases.
There is an obvious temptation for landlords to use lodging agreements without
taking on the obligations that it normally involves. There is nothing wrong in making an
occupier a lodger in order to avoid the protection of tenants: that is a perfectly valid
choice among available legal routes. What is not permitted is to insert terms that are
designed to mislead the courts.
In Aslan v Murphy,19 the agreement provided that the occupier should leave the
premises for 90 minutes each day; the owner was to retain a key and provide cleaning
services. The 90-minute provision was rejected as a sham. Nobody seriously intended that
the occupier should have to leave every day. Furthermore, the key was not inconsistent
with a lease – it all depended on what the key would be used for. On the facts, the services
were thought to be minimal and a lease was created.
It remains unclear just how extensive the services must be. Some cases stress the need
for a right to unrestricted access. Yet in Huwyler v Ruddy 20 the Court of Appeal held that
cleaning services taking 20 minutes a week were sufficient. This looks generous to the
landlord. Landlords in cases such as Aslan may have failed because they had inserted
sham terms, making the courts suspicious about the agreement as a whole.
A rather different point is whether the services have to be carried out. In Antoniades,
there are dicta of Lord Templeman suggesting that it is the actual situation that the
courts will take account of, rather than rights under the agreement. However, terms may
be intended even if they are not presently being invoked. This is given some support by
Huwyler. Some years after the occupation started, the parties agreed that the services
need not be provided for the time being (the occupier valued privacy more than the
19
[1990] 1 WLR 766.
20
(1995) 28 HLR 550.
184
services). The court held that it remained a lodging agreement so long as the occupier
could insist on the services starting again. Perhaps the same would have resulted if the
parties had reached this agreement at the very beginning, so that the services were never
provided.
One problem in applying the sham analysis is that rights may be genuinely inserted
without any likelihood of their being exercised. Suppose Fred allows George into occu-
pation of a flat, retaining a right to live there. Fred has his own house nearby and has
no need to live in the flat. However, should Fred sell his house, then the right might be
useful. This right is easily struck out if, as in Antoniades, it is impracticable for both of
them to live there. However, suppose that there is a spare room that Fred could occupy.
Fred has little intention of ever living there (he would almost always have somewhere
nicer to live), but he does intend to exercise the right should the need arise. Is this a
sham? Lord Templeman might require him to exercise the right, but we have seen that 13
this probably requires too much. The better view is that the right is valid so long as it is

intended that there be a right to enforce it, should the question arise. If it were discussed
with George, one would expect Fred to say something like: ‘I don’t expect I will be using
the right, but you must understand that circumstances might change and then I may
wish to live in the flat.’
So far we have been looking at typical lodging agreements. Westminster City Council
v Clarke 21 involved a public sector owner in a rather different sort of arrangement. The
claimants ran a hostel for single homeless men. It was not a conventional lodging arrange-
ment as no services were provided, but the owners employed a warden and reserved the
right to move occupiers as necessary; social workers assisted the occupiers as necessary.
The House of Lords regarded this as a necessary way of carrying out statutory duties to
assist the homeless. The provisions about moving occupiers were sufficient to show that
there was no right to exclusive possession. It was, however, stressed that a private land-
lord could not hope to avoid a lease by inserting similar terms.
Landlords sometimes use a technical route to avoid statutory protection of tenants,
without any sham as described above. Hilton v Plustitle Ltd 22 provides the leading exam-
ple. Its background is that statutory protection is inapplicable to leases to companies.
When an actress wanted to lease a house, the landlord insisted on a company let. A com-
pany was set up by the actress (she controlled it) and the lease was to that company. The
actual occupier, of course, was the actress.
It was not suggested in Hilton that there was a licence, rather the question was
whether there was a direct lease to the actress. She argued that this was the substance
of what was intended and that the introduction of the company was a mere technicality
designed to hide the real substance of the agreement. This argument was rejected by the
Court of Appeal. The company was not a sham in the sense established by Diplock LJ: it
was intended that there be a company as tenant. The courts stressed that many legal
transactions involve some element of technicality and they were not prepared to take a
21
[1992] 2 AC 288.
22
[1989] 1 WLR 149.
185
bold ‘substance over form’ approach. The result in Hilton seems inevitable; it reveals
limits to the sham analysis.
● Exceptional cases
In Street, Lord Templeman recognised that occasionally there can be exclusive possession
without a lease. The absence of any intention for legal relations has already been seen as
one example. It has not proved a viable way for landlords to avoid leases, save in excep-
tional cases like Marcroft Wagons. Other examples will be quickly listed. None of them
has been significant in the more recent cases.
(i) Owners, mortgagees and trespassers are all categories where there is exclusive pos-
session, but arising from something quite different from a lease. Lord Templeman
identified these categories, but there may be others. One example would be benefi-
ciaries under a trust who are allowed to occupy.
(ii) Purchasers allowed to possess prior to completion of the purchase have been treated
as licensees, though originally they would have been viewed as tenants at will. The
current position appears to be that they be tenants at will before a binding contract
is entered into and licensees thereafter. This switch in status from tenant to licensee
is somewhat puzzling.
(iii) Service occupiers are employees who are required to occupy as part of their job.
Simply providing an employee with accommodation has never sufficed. On the other
hand, a caretaker has never been viewed as a tenant. Licences will be recognised
where the occupation is necessary for the performance of the duties of the employee
(as with a caretaker) or the occupation is for the better performance of duties. An
illustration of the latter would be where farm workers are provided with accommo-
dation so that they can (for example) attend to farm animals quickly at all times.
● Joint occupiers
In Street, Lord Templeman thought that, the exceptional cases aside, the only question
would be whether the residential occupier is a tenant or a lodger. This has proved wildly
optimistic in the context of joint occupiers. However, two cases are quite simple. If there
is an agreement for two people to take exclusive possession together, then there will be
a lease in exactly the same way as if there had been just one. The second is where Andy,
Brenda, Clara and Davina, four students, each have rooms in a house. There may be sep-
arate leases of the individual rooms, with rights to use common facilities such as kitchens
and bathrooms.
Antoniades and AG Securities: the House of Lords analysis

The problems are illustrated by two cases decided together by the House of Lords. In
Antoniades v Villiers,23 a couple took a flat together. It has already been seen that their
23
[1990] 1 AC 417.
186
agreement that the flat could be shared with the owner or others was rejected as a sham.
The joint occupier issue arose because the flat was not let on a joint basis: there were
separate agreements, purporting to be licences, with each of them. It was held that this
made no difference. In reality it was an agreement with both of them and they jointly
held a lease. It was a failed attempt to mask joint exclusive possession. This was not a case
where two people took separate rights to possess: the couple were overtly taking the flat
together and the agreements between them could only be viewed as interdependent.
AG Securities v Vaughan had very different facts. Four individuals each had rights to
rooms in a flat. The agreement did not give any right to a specific room, so they could
not be treated as tenants of their own rooms. Instead, their rights to the flat as a whole
had to be assessed. Each agreement was for six months, though they started at differing
times. Looking at it from the position of each individual, there was no exclusive posses-
sion: three others shared the flat as a whole. 13
Could they be said to enjoy joint exclusive possession? Plainly, the agreements were

not interdependent as in Antoniades. This seems to have been the principal factor in the
unanimous decision that there was a licence. It will be recalled that the four unities are
required for there to be a joint tenancy.24 The four unities were used in AG Securities to
say that there was no joint tenancy and that therefore a licence was created. On the facts,
there was no unity of interest (the agreements were separate and involved different
rents), no unity of time (the leases started at different times) and no unity of title (there
were separate agreements). Whatever the analysis, the simple choice between tenant
and lodger, as articulated in Street, has evaporated.
Where exactly is the line drawn?

Antoniades and AG Securities involve facts at different ends of the factual spectrum. We
now consider three more difficult situations. Stribling v Wickham,25 the first, is relatively
straightforward. The facts were similar to AG Securities, save that the initial occupiers
deliberately took their rooms together and the agreements started at the same time. The
Court of Appeal held there to be licences. The similarity to AG Securities was made clearer
because two of the original three occupiers had left and been replaced by individuals
approved by the landlord. The initial semi-joint arrangement was simply the way in
which many separate licences start.
More difficult is Mikeover Ltd v Brady.26 A couple had separate agreements for a small
flat, each being liable for half the rent. However, it seemed clear that this rent provision
was not a sham. When the woman left, the owner (far from asking for the full rent) refused
an offer by the man to pay the entire rent. Following his subsequent failure to pay even
half, the owner terminated the agreement and sought possession. The man now argued
that there was a lease, restricting the owner’s right to evict him.
The situation looks very similar to Antoniades – the woman’s leaving could not change
the nature of the agreement. However, the Court of Appeal held that there could not be
24
See p. 136, above.
25
[1989] 2 EGLR 35.
26
[1989] 3 All ER 618.
187
a joint tenancy as the four unities were not present. The need for the four unities
originates, of course, in AG Securities. The specific problem in Mikeover was that unity of
interest requires each to be liable for the entire rent; on the facts, each was liable only for
part of the rent. It is puzzling that this was not thought to be an issue in Antoniades.
There, the House of Lords treated the arrangement as a joint one whereby each was liable
for the entire rent (even though the agreements stated otherwise). It might be thought
that the approach of the House of Lords in Antoniades was rather cavalier in imposing
obligations that had not been undertaken, whereas Mikeover represents a cavalier treat-
ment of binding House of Lords authority.
On their facts, both Antoniades and Mikeover involved interdependent agreements,
indicating a joint lease. It is the technicalities of the four unities that cause problems. It
now appears trivially easy for an owner to create licences when joint occupiers are involved.
Even if both were to be liable for rent, the agreements could be made to start a couple
of days apart (the owner being careful to ensure that the couple do not move in at the
same time). This too would destroy the unity of interest.
The third difficult situation is illustrated where Richard has a two-bedroom flat, which
he advertises for separate licences. Richard intends to replicate AG Securities. Sarah and
Timothy see the rooms and decide that they wish to live there together: they plan to use
one room as a bedroom and the other as a living room. Richard is aware of this, but Sarah
and Timothy enter into separate licences with him. At first sight, the agreements seem
interdependent in the same way as in Antoniades. On the other hand, the premises are
appropriate for separate licences: if Sarah moved out then Richard could live in one room
with a new licensee in the other. In Stribling, the original three licensees included a couple
who shared a bedroom. When the woman left, a new licensee moved into what had
previously been a dining room.
Although Sarah and Timothy may regard the agreements as being interdependent,
this seems no more relevant than the similar views of the friends in Stribling. What is
more important is that the licence analysis can work effectively if the relationship breaks
down and Sarah leaves. It seems more realistic to argue that Richard can put a new person
into occupation (licence) than to argue that Timothy is liable for the entire rent (lease).
Hadjiloucas v Crean,27 decided before Antoniades, raises rather similar issues. Two
ladies took separate licences of a flat. They had separate bedrooms. One subsequently
left and was replaced by a person introduced by the person who left. The Court of Appeal
considered that they could be licensees, but thought that more information was needed
to determine whether there was a joint agreement with the two of them. However, in
Antoniades Lord Templeman expressed the opinion that there was a lease on the basis
that the right to put another person in was a sham.
Lord Templeman’s reasoning is somewhat difficult to comprehend. The premises were
suitable for occupation by unrelated persons: there were separate bedrooms. Indeed,
when one left, another occupant was found. This type of movement is exactly what is
expected in flat-sharing agreements and looks similar to AG Securities and Stribling. One
27
[1988] 1 WLR 1006.
188
factor, nevertheless, does point towards a lease. The two ladies each agreed to be liable
for the entire rent. This indicates a joint agreement with the two of them as joint tenants.
Leaving that special element apart, a licence does seem the most appropriate result in
Hadjiloucas.
Challenging orthodoxy
Before leaving joint occupiers, we should reconsider the four unities. It will be recalled
that they must all be satisfied before a joint tenancy can exist, though only the unity of
possession is required for a tenancy in common. The situation in cases such as AG Securities
does appear to involve unity of possession, on the basis that each is not specifically entitled
to ‘their’ room.
The really difficult question is why we say there is a licence if the four unities do not
apply. Normally, the consequence is a tenancy in common. Why do we not say that 13
here? Leases can be concurrently held just as easily as a fee simple. The argument is

enhanced by the fact that the estates of tenants in common need not be the same: a life
interest and a fee simple can be held concurrently, creating a tenancy in common. If that
is possible, why not also two leases?
An immediate response might be that without the four unities there is no exclusive
possession. Either there is a joint interdependent arrangement, as in Antoniades, or else
an absence of both unities and of exclusive possession. Yet Mikeover does not fit this ana-
lysis at all well. More generally, we need to question the meaning of exclusive possession.
For several decades, it has been assumed that there cannot be a lease if others also have
a right to occupy. This is demonstrated by landlords inserting terms attempting to deny
exclusive possession in cases such as Antoniades.
However, the somewhat heretical suggestion may be made that exclusive possession
is not concerned with the question whether anybody else can use the land. Rather, exclu-
sive possession may be concerned with the nature of the occupier’s rights relative to the
owner. This is best shown with the lodger. The reason why there is no exclusive posses-
sion and no lease is that the owner has an unrestricted right of access. When the earlier
cases are studied, this is the context in which exclusive possession is discussed.
These problems are not discussed by the cases on leases and licences, so we can but
speculate on the courts’ unspoken reasoning. One complication is that since 1925, there
cannot be a legal tenancy in common: there must be a trust under which an equitable
tenancy in common operates. With the fee simple, it is easy to say that co-owners hold
the fee simple as joint tenants on trust for themselves as tenants in common in equity.
However, suppose that Corin and Dora take separate leases. Where is the trust? It is
difficult to see what joint interest they hold on trust. Possibly, the owner could hold on
trust for the tenants in common, but this produces the impossibly strange result that
the owner could defeat the lease by selling the land and overreaching the leases: this is
an impermissible confusion of the ideas underpinning leases and trusts of land. We may
have to face the stark proposition that the trusts of land regime (based on the 1925
legislation) makes it difficult to create a beneficial tenancy in common.
Let us return to the four unities and, in particular, the unity of interest. Why should it
be necessary, as Mikeover asserts, for joint tenants to be liable to pay the entire rent?
189
Unity of interest demands that the interest must be the same: one cannot have a lease
and the other a fee simple. However, it is far from clear that obligations have to be the
same. Mikeover has the significant support of Lord Oliver in Antoniades on this point, but
otherwise the proposition is far from clear from the cases.
● The state of the law today

Street establishes that exclusive possession is normally conclusive that there is a lease.
It may be seen as an important pro-tenant case, in that it widens the circumstances
in which statutory protections of tenants operate. In the context of the single tenant,
it can be seen to work well. In that context, the only significant litigation has related
to lodgers. There, a robust approach to shams has ensured that appropriate results are
reached.
The conceptual grounding of Street can be called into question in that it limits the
freedom of the parties to determine what sort of legal relationship they are entering into.
However, the need to protect vulnerable tenants can be used to justify the result (if not
the reasoning), at least in residential leases.
It is a paradox of the timing of Street (1985) that the dismantling of the statutory pro-
tections for residential tenants began in the late 1980s. The details lie outside the scope
of this book, but it was realised that there would be virtually no new private tenancies
if disincentives to lease houses were too great. This would be disastrous for tenants,
who would face the choice of local authority accommodation (often in short supply) or
profiteering and unscrupulous private landlords (if any could be found).
Statutory protection of tenants has not completely disappeared, but today landlords
are not afraid of creating leases. At least before the credit problems and housing market
collapse starting in 2007, a thriving ‘buy to let’ activity developed. More recently, many
people have let their houses, rather than sell at very low valuations. For tenants, the loss
of rights to remain in rented accommodation is offset by a greater choice of homes to
rent. One result is that landlords no longer seek to use licences: the flow of cases in which
private landlords seek to avoid leases has dried up. More recent cases have involved public
sector landlords, who often argue for a licence in order to avoid repairing obligations
implied into leases.
The tentative conclusion may be that Street works well enough in practice for single
occupiers, but that it doesn’t matter anything like as much as it did at the time it was
decided. For business leases, however, it is difficult to justify the courts’ interventionalist
approach.
Turning to joint occupiers, the law is much less readily justified. For a start, it appears
to be in a mess: complex, inconsistent and unclear. The clarity brought by Street to single
occupiers has been lost. It may be thought unacceptable that landlords (whose hands are
tied by Street for single occupiers) can so readily create licences by the use of technical
devices.
Nor is it clear that the resulting distinction makes much social sense. It may be argued
that AG Securities justifiably limits protection for a shifting population in flats. That may be
true, but some occupiers of flats stay for many years (as was the situation in AG Securities
190
itself) and the occupiers in Mikeover surely deserved protection. Nor is it comprehensible
that the repairing obligations of landlords (discussed in Chapter 14) should not apply to
the four licensees in AG Securities. Neither in terms of principle nor policy have the courts
adopted entirely rational distinctions.

C AS E
in this chapter:
13
AG Securities v Vaughan and others; Antoniades v Villiers and another A
R
N
V I G AT O
[1990] 1 AC 417 POWERED BY

Prudential Assurance Co Ltd v London Residuary Body and others
[1992] 2 AC 386
Walsh v Lonsdale [1881–5] All ER Rep Ext 1690
191
14 Leases: obligations
and remedies

eases are often medium- to long-term arrangements. It is essential that the lease
L makes adequate provision as to how the property is to be managed throughout its
duration. In particular, obligations to repair should be specified. This chapter looks at
implied obligations, whether implied by the common law or statute.
Terms in leases are generally described as covenants. This is because leases are normally
created by deeds (compulsory for leases over three years) and terms in deeds are generally
described as covenants. This chapter uses the word ‘covenants’ to describe terms and
obligations in leases, whether they are express or implied and whether or not a deed is
used.
The enforcement of covenants is an obviously important topic: obligations become
worthless if they can be ignored. There are two aspects of this. The first concerns rem-
edies. Little will need to be said regarding liability for damages and specific performance:
these are standard contract remedies. However, a very important remedy for landlords is
that of forfeiture: terminating the lease for breach of its terms. Forfeiture destroys the
lease and whatever value it has. It is not surprising that common law and statutory rules
protect tenants: relief against forfeiture.
The second aspect of enforcement relates to who is liable on the covenants and who
can sue on them. As between the landlord and tenant, no problem arises. However, the
landlord may sell the freehold and the tenant may sell the lease; such sales are generally
described as assignments. We view the purchaser of the freehold (assignee of the rever-
sion) as stepping into the shoes of the landlord and the purchaser of the lease (assignee
of the lease) as stepping into the shoes of the tenant. In general terms, the covenants can
be enforced between these two assignees. We shall see in Chapter 17 that the burden of
positive freehold covenants (those requiring work or expenditure) does not normally
affect purchasers. No such problem exists for leases: the benefit and the burden of both
positive and negative covenants passes to assignees.
A rather different and more general question has arisen in recent decades. This con-
cerns the extent to which the rules applicable to leases are affected by contract. Many
of the lease rules pre-date the modern law of contract and sometimes are different
from modern contract rules. Can the older lease rules be circumvented by reference to
192
contract? This is considered as one of the ‘Critical and controversial issues’ later in this
chapter.
A feature of the modern law of leases is that much of it is heavily regulated by
statute. This is especially the case for residential leases, as there is frequently inequality of
bargaining power as between landlord and tenant. We consider only those areas in which
common law and statutory rules intermesh, one example being duties to repair. Other
statutory rules (including rights of some tenants to acquire the freehold: ‘enfranchisement’)
are left to more specialist books.
A final and related introductory comment is that most of the principal topics in this
chapter possess a large number of highly detailed rules, especially where legislation is
involved. The reader should be aware that much detail lies behind the surface of what
follows.
14
Leases: obligations and remedies

● Implied obligations
Quiet enjoyment and related rights
Most of our attention is directed towards obligations to repair but, first, mention should
be made of the landlord’s covenant for quiet enjoyment, implied into every lease. The
language of the covenant is misleading. It is not focused on preventing noise. Rather, it
is the core obligation of the landlord to ensure that the tenant can occupy the premises
for the duration of the lease. Any conduct that excludes the tenant or substantially inter-
feres with the tenant’s enjoyment of it (by cutting off the water supply, for example) will
constitute a breach.
As has been stressed, ‘quiet’ cannot be equated with absence of noise. However, there
is no reason why noise cannot activate the covenant. If the landlord makes so much noise
in adjoining premises that the tenant cannot sleep, that is likely to be a breach of the
covenant (as well as falling foul of the tort of nuisance).
A more difficult issue arose in the House of Lords in Southwark LBC v Mills.1 The
claimant had a lease of a flat in a block owned by the defendant landlord. The complaint
was that the soundproofing between the flats was quite inadequate, rendering normal
life difficult. It was not as if the neighbours were unduly noisy; rather, their everyday
activities could be clearly heard. The principal difficulty was that the fault lay in the
original state of the premises. Although the lack of soundproofing would contravene
current building regulations, this is common for older flats. Furthermore, inserting sound-
proofing would be extremely expensive.
It was held that the covenant could not be used to enlarge repairing duties imposed
on landlords; we shall see that an obligation to repair does not require improvements in
design. The covenant was limited to conduct after the lease was entered into, whereas
in Mills the problem lay in the state of the premises at the time of the lease. One
1
[2001] 1 AC 1.
193
concern expressed by Lord Millett was that lack of soundproofing was one of a number
of defects of local authority housing. To require soundproofing would drain huge resources
from other and more pressing works of improvement. That might have to be accepted if
there were clear legal liability, but it was a factor to consider in deciding whether to
extend the landlord’s liability.
Somewhat similar to the covenant for quiet enjoyment is the principle that a grantor
(here the landlord) should not derogate from the grant (the lease). This principle applies
to all grants (deeds) – not just to leases. For example, it explains the implication of ease-
ments into transfers of land. The idea is that the landlord should not act in a way which
would deny or restrict the benefits intended to be conferred on the tenant. An excellent
example is provided by Harmer v Jumbil (Nigeria) Tin Areas Ltd.2 Land was leased for use
as an explosives magazine, both parties being aware that explosives licences required
that there should be no buildings within a certain radius. The landlord owned the adjoin-
ing land. It was held that it would be a derogation from grant for the landlord to build
on that adjoining land – it would prevent the intended use of the leased land.
As Mills recognised, the covenant for quiet enjoyment and the non-derogation prin-
ciple overlap. It may be that the non-derogation principle is more appropriate as regards
special land uses, as in Harmer. On the other hand, non-derogation is not a panacea for all
perceived wrongs. For example, the landlord can lawfully use nearby land to run a busi-
ness which competes with the tenant’s business. Competition affects the profitability of
the tenant’s business use, rather than the tenant’s ability to use the land in the planned
manner.
A problem over many years has been that some landlords use violence to evict
tenants, especially when the tenants have a right to remain on the land. A wide range of
wrongs, including torts, come into operation here. In particular, the Protection from Eviction
Act 1977 makes it a crime to ‘interfere with the peace or comfort’ of a residential tenant
or to withhold services so as to pressurise the tenant to leave.
Repair
All buildings, whether homes, factories, shops or offices, inevitably require maintenance
and, from time to time, substantial repair. Who is responsible for painting the windows
or replacing the roof?
Common law obligations

The general common law approach is that it is up to the parties to establish obligations.
If nothing is said in the lease (which would be quite exceptional for a properly drafted
lease of commercial premises), then nobody is responsible for repairing. This might work
for a medieval lease of agricultural land, but it looks wildly impractical for most modern
leases.
The underlying problem in trying to establish a general repairing obligation is that
leases differ so much. A solution that looks obvious for one lease might well not work for
others. In a lease of a shop for two years, a repairing obligation on the tenant would be
2
[1921] 1 Ch 200.
194
unduly onerous. The repair might involve much structural work, for example if the
roof needs to be replaced. The only sensible outcome is that the landlord should repair.
On the other hand, a lease for 99 years gives the tenant a substantial stake in the land,
especially when the tenant has paid a large amount for it and any rent is nominal. One
could not reasonably expect the landlord to undertake repair.
The case for the landlord repairing is greater where the leased premises form part a
larger building: a shop within an arcade or a floor of an office block. In these cases,
significant repairs affect the building as a whole and cannot sensibly be left to individual
tenants. However, it is not so clear that it is the landlord who must bear the cost. A com-
mon provision (especially in longer leases) is for the landlord to undertake the work, but
then to charge the cost to the tenants.
Even where the landlord is subject to repairing obligations, it may be sensible to
require the tenant to undertake minor work (decorating, for example). Indeed, the law 14
has long required tenants to do very minor things in order to protect the property.

Unblocking drains would be one obvious example.
All this demonstrates the difficulty in establishing common law obligations. The courts’
‘hands-off’ approach works only because leases of commercial properties invariably
contain express terms and, as will be seen shortly, statute has intervened as regards
residential premises.
One obligation has long been recognised for leases of furnished residential accommo-
dation. In 1843, Smith v Marrable 3 held that the land must be in a ‘state fit for decent
and habitable occupation’. On the facts, infestation by bugs was held to justify the tenant’s
giving up the property. However, this is a limited obligation. Not only is it limited to
furnished accommodation, but also it applies only to the state of the premises at the time
of the lease. It is certainly not an obligation to repair afterwards. The idea behind it is that
a tenant of furnished accommodation cannot be expected to check the state of the
premises, whereas deterioration is a natural risk for any property.
Statutory obligations
Two forms of obligation apply to landlords of dwelling houses. Section 8 of the Landlord
and Tenant Act 1985 (replacing earlier legislation) requires the landlord to keep the pro-
perty fit for human habitation throughout the lease. Unfortunately, it virtually never applies,
as there is an upper annual rent limit of £52 (£80 in London). These are low rental figures
for weekly rents, let alone yearly rents! In practical terms, the provision is useless.
Much more important is the repair obligation in section 11 of the 1985 Act. This
applies to leases of dwelling houses for less than seven years and cannot be excluded.
It is, of course, tenants of shorter leases who cannot be expected to repair premises. The
obligation has three components:
(1) to keep the structure and exterior in repair (this excludes interior decoration);
(2) to keep in proper working order installations for the supply of water, gas, electricity
and sanitation (this includes basins, baths and toilets but not other fittings; it follows
that there is no statutory obligation to ensure that a cooker continues to work);
3
(1843) 11 M&W 5 (152 ER 693).
195
(3) to keep in proper working order space and water heating installations (this will
include central heating systems and, for example, immersion heaters).
This is a useful provision, though considerable difficulty has arisen in working out what
‘keep in repair’ means. This wording is found in the statutory provisions and also in
express repairing duties. The courts have applied the same construction to both express
obligations of commercial tenants and statutory obligations imposed on landlords. This
may be criticised, as it is not completely clear that these obligations should be construed
in an identical manner.
The major problems have arisen when a defect is in existence at the time of the lease.
Can the repairing obligation require the property to be put into a better condition than
it was in originally? The basic answer of the courts is to reject any such duty. Examples
are where a house has been built without a damp course (so that damp rises up the walls)
and where there are unacceptable condensation problems (common in much fairly
recent housing).
On the other hand, this defence has its limits. If the problem causes damage to the
house, then repair will be needed. Take an extreme example where the wooden surround
for a window of a house is rotten when the house is let. If the window falls out then it is
plain that the house is in disrepair; the landlord will have to undertake the necessary
repairs. It does not matter that the tenant will be getting a better house (one with a
secure window) than at the beginning of the lease.
A good example of these principles is provided by Stent v Monmouth DC.4 A front
door failed to keep water out. By itself, this was not disrepair – it simply was a house that
was not as good as it should have been. However, the water damaged the door such that
it needed to be replaced in 1979: the damaged door constituted disrepair. Unfortunately,
the replacement door was no better than the first and water continued to enter the
house and damaged the tenant’s property. It was only when an aluminium sealed unit
was installed four years later that the problem was solved. The Court of Appeal held the
landlord should, in 1979, have replaced the defective door with one that would have
cured the problem. Accordingly, there was a breach of duty and there was liability for the
later damage to the tenant’s property. A test previously articulated was whether ‘a wholly
different thing’ would be provided if the improvement were to be made: if so, then it
could not be required. It could not be said that an effective water resistant door would
be a wholly different thing to the original door.
● Enforcing obligations: landlords’ obligations

Damages and specific performance
These standard contractual remedies need little discussion. Stent demonstrates how
damages can include damage to the tenant’s property. The courts can also order land-
lords to undertake repairing obligations (specific performance). Problems of uncertainty
4
(1987) 54 P&CR 193.
196
and supervision mean that building contracts do not normally attract specific perform-
ance, but repairing covenants provide an exception.
Other remedies
When landlords fail to repair, tenants may be tempted to withhold rent. In general, this
cannot lawfully be done. Covenants in leases are regarded as independent; this means
that breach by one party does not free the other from their normal obligations. However,
the law has recognised a right of set-off. This enables the tenant to deduct from the
payment of rent such sums as are owing to him. An example would be a tenant who
exercises the right to undertake the repair after the landlord has failed to do so – the
expenditure can be recouped out of the rent. Even if the tenant has not undertaken the
repair, liability on the landlord’s part can be deducted from rent. However, in many cases
this liability will be relatively small: the maximum is around £3,000 p.a. for serious 14
beaches, assuming no specific injury or damage. This will not come close to justify with-

holding all the rent.
Personal injuries
A tenant who is injured as a result of a breach of covenant can generally sue for damages,
but in the past others faced more difficulty. Suppose Harry is a tenant of a flat, which he
lives in with his girlfriend Irene. While they are watching television, the ceiling collapses
on them, injuring both of them. Harry can rely on breach of the obligation to repair, but
no such duty is owed to Irene. Nor did the courts allow the tort of negligence to apply,
even if there were a breach of repairing obligations.
These old principles have been overtaken by section 4 of the Defective Premises
Act 1972. A landlord is subject to a duty of care when there is a repairing obligation or
merely a right to enter to repair. Liability extends to damage to property as well as to per-
sonal injuries. It should be noted that the duty is fault-based: it cannot be assumed that
the landlord will be liable in every case.
A rather troublesome point regarding obligations to repair and personal injuries must
be mentioned. The courts held that there is no breach of the statutory repairing obliga-
tions until notice of the defect has been given to the landlord. This makes some sense
when a tenant is aware of a defect, but has not informed the landlord. However, it was
applied by the House of Lords in O’Brien v Robinson5 even though the defect was
hidden (a defective ceiling) and the landlord had a right to enter the land. This defence
removes any encouragement to landlords to discover potentially dangerous defects; it
has been widely criticised.
Fortunately O’Brien is bypassed by the 1972 Act. Section 4 imposes a duty of care if
either notice has been given or the landlord ought to have been aware of the defect:
there is no requirement of a breach of the repairing obligation. This means that both
Harry and Irene would be able to sue in the above example, provided that the landlord
should have been aware of the defect.
5
[1973] AC 912.
197
● Enforcing obligations: tenants’ obligations

Damages and specific performance
These remedies have caused few problems. However, actions against tenants for failure
to repair can be used oppressively. This is because disrepair often has a small effect on
the value of the premises, especially if they are likely to be redeveloped at the end of the
lease.
Accordingly, the Leasehold Property (Repairs) Act 1938 prevents actions without the
approval of the court. The legislation also controls forfeiture, as perhaps the major prob-
lem was that landlords used disrepair (despite its minimal financial impact) as a basis for
forfeiting leases and thereby making windfall profits.
Forfeiture
In contract law, a serious breach may entitle the other party to rescind (terminate) the
contract. Similarly, a breach of leasehold covenants may entitle the landlord to forfeit the
lease. Although forfeiture has a functional similarity to rescission for breach, it has its own
special rules.
There is no equivalent right for tenants to forfeit leases for breach by the landlord. Two
reasons may be given for this. The first is that forfeiture is based on an express right to
forfeit; in practice, this right is expressed to apply only to tenants’ covenants. The second
reason is that leases are often valuable property assets for tenants (especially if the rent
is below the current value of possession). A right for a tenant to terminate a valuable right
would be a nonsense. However, not every lease is valuable and the tenant may want to
leave the premises. If the landlord is in serious breach of the landlord’s obligations then
the contractual principle of rescission for breach may operate.6
As indicated above, forfeiture requires an express term in the lease, though virtually
every lease contains a forfeiture clause. One notable feature of forfeiture is that it does
not matter how trivial the breach is: it is simply a question whether the forfeiture clause
applies to the covenant in question (it normally will). Forfeiture can have a drastic effect.
The tenant may have paid a large capital sum for a long lease, which would be worth
hundreds of thousands of pounds if it were assigned. Yet a trivial breach, perhaps a
failure to make a small rental payment at the right time, could see the lease wiped out.
With such a drastic remedy, it is not surprising that both the courts and Parliament
have developed protections for tenants. Unfortunately, these protections are often very
complex and give rise to much litigation. At least for houses, forfeiture almost invariably
involves court proceedings. This is because it is a crime to evict a tenant of a dwelling
house without court proceedings; it is also criminal to use or threaten violence to secure
entry to any property. It is safe not to use court proceedings only if the tenant has already
left the premises. Yet the technical position is that it is the landlord who forfeits by
serving a notice of forfeiture on the tenant, not the court order. It is odd that the lease
operates in a limbo state after that notice: valid if the court decides that the lease should
continue and invalid if the court concludes that it should end.
6
Hussein v Mehlman [1992] 2 EGLR 87 (failure to repair); discussed at p. 212, below.
198
Recent reform proposals7 would change nearly all the rules discussed in this section.
This is a reflection on the inadequacy of much of the present law, including some of the
points already made.
Preconditions for forfeiture

It has been seen that forfeiture can operate even if there is a minor breach. It can also be
used to threaten tenants even if it is not clear that a breach has been committed. Some
of these issues are covered by new provisions in the Commonhold and Leasehold Reform
Act 2002,8 which applies to residential leases exceeding 21 years.
The main rules are:
(1) notice of liability for rent must be given before forfeiture for non-payment, requiring
payment within 30–60 days (this ensures that the tenant is made aware of the need
to pay before proceedings commence); 14
(2) for other breaches, it must be established (usually by a leasehold valuation tribunal

or court) that there is a breach before the forfeiture procedure can be commenced;
(3) where money is due, it must exceed £350 or have been unpaid for three years (this
prevents forfeiture for trivial breaches).
A quite different point is that the common law required a ‘formal demand’ before
forfeiture for non-payment of rent. The delightfully absurd rules required a demand on
the premises before sunset on the day the sum is due. Virtually every lease excludes the
need for a formal demand and statute removes any need for it if more than six months’
rent is due. Formal demands should have been abolished long ago.
Waiver
The breach by itself never terminates the lease: the landlord has a choice whether or not
to forfeit. The right is lost (by waiver) if the landlord chooses not to forfeit, though it
revives if the breach continues (as where there is continuing use of the premises for a
prohibited purpose) or there is a fresh breach.
None of that is surprising. Less obvious is that any conduct by the landlord which
treats the lease as continuing acts as waiver. The most frequent example is where the
landlord claims or accepts rent for a period after the breach. The idea is that no rent is
payable after the lease ends, so acceptance of post-breach rent shows that the landlord
wants the lease to continue. In practice, rent may be received because of an administra-
tive error by the landlord’s employees. This does not prevent waiver, even if the tenant
was aware that the landlord intended to forfeit. This is tough on the landlord and can be
explained only on the basis that the courts are attempting to restrict an overly powerful
weapon in the landlord’s hands.
Relief against forfeiture: non-payment of rent

The main protection for tenants is that the courts can refuse forfeiture: relief against
forfeiture. The jurisdiction is partly common law and partly statutory. Underpinning all
7
Law Com No 303 (2006).
8
Sections 166–171.
199
the rules is the idea that the right to forfeit is a justifiable way of ensuring that covenants
are complied with. If the tenant (albeit belatedly) puts things right, then there is no
longer any justification for the lease to be brought to an end. This might be thought
too generous to those tenants who constantly breach leases and remedy the breaches
at the last moment: reform of forfeiture will limit relief in such cases.
An unfortunate element of the present law is that there are wholly different rules for
rent breaches and other breaches; this complicates matters unnecessarily. Likewise,
having different provisions for High Court and County Court proceedings (the County
Court has unlimited jurisdiction in forfeiture actions) scarcely helps. We now summarise
the principal provisions relating to failure to pay rent.
Two situations need to be distinguished. If the tenant pays arrears before court pro-
ceedings, then there is an absolute right to relief: the lease continues. It does not matter
that the tenant has a bad payment record and pays at the very last moment. After for-
feiture has taken place, then relief is still possible on a discretionary basis (partly equitable
and partly statutory). Relief must be sought within six months of forfeiture, though relief
will be virtually automatic within that period if arrears are paid (unless the property has
been relet).
Relief against forfeiture: other breaches

For other breaches, relief is governed by the Law of Property Act 1925 (LPA), section 146.
The central concern is with remedying the breach. This is more complex than paying
arrears of rent. Some breaches may be serious and some minor. Some may have a
transitory effect (decorating a house in May, rather than April as the lease requires),
while others will have permanent effects (failure to install fire protection systems, if the
property has burnt down as a result).
Under section 146, the landlord must serve notice of the breach on the tenant. If the
breach is remedied, then this bars forfeiture. If the breach has not been remedied
within a reasonable time, the court has a discretion to give relief. If the court allows
forfeiture, then this is conclusive. Unlike non-payment of rent, there is no scope for
relief thereafter.
An initial and rather difficult question is how far these rules apply if there is forfeiture
out of court – usually described as peaceable re-entry. It is quite clear that notice must
be served before any sort of re-entry (peaceable or by court order) and that remedying
the breach precludes re-entry. More difficult is whether the court possesses a statutory
discretion to order relief after peaceable re-entry. The problem is that section 146(2) allows
relief: ‘Where the landlord is proceeding . . . [to enforce forfeiture]’; the use of the pres-
ent tense might seem to rule out cases where forfeiture has been completed. However,
the House of Lords in Billson v Residential Apartments Ltd 9 thought it unacceptable that
a landlord could be better off by employing peaceable re-entry. The law would then
encourage direct action by landlords, which might have public order consequences. Accord-
ingly, the section was given a bold construction so as to apply to peaceable re-entry.
9
[1992] 1 AC 494.
200
The notice
The notice must specify the breach, require it to be remedied and require compensation
to be paid (if the landlord wants compensation). Specifying the breach is crucial, as it is
this that has to be remedied.
It is necessary to require the breach to be remedied only if remedy is possible. It is
widely recognised that some types of breach are irremediable, but drawing the line
has caused considerable difficulty. The leading authority of Rugby School (Governors) v
Tannahill10 involved premises used as a brothel, in breach of a common clause exclud-
ing immoral or illegal conduct. The court reasoned that the breach would cause a stigma
to be attached to the premises, such that simply stopping the brothel use would not put
them back into their original state. Accordingly, the breach was not capable of remedy.
It might be otherwise if, as in Glass v Kencakes Ltd,11 the prostitution use is by a sub-
tenant (a person to whom a tenant has leased the land). This is because the tenant could 14
rid the property of the stigma by evicting the offending subtenant; the breach would be

remedied.
Rugby School is quite clear, but some have argued that no breach of any negative
covenant can be remedied. This is supported by two arguments. First, one can never
remove the fact that there was at one time a wrongful user. Next, the tenant might have
stopped the user already and how then could one talk about its being remedied? These
considerations led the Court of Appeal in Scala House & District Property Co Ltd v
Forbes12 to hold that breach of a covenant not to sublet could not be remedied. However,
that position is now thought to be far too strict, bearing in mind that some breaches
might be both trivial and transitory. Expert Clothing Service & Sales Ltd v Hillgate House
Ltd 13 establishes that, in principle, the breach of both positive and negative covenants
can be remedied. This does not mean that every breach can be remedied: it all depends
of the facts. In Expert Clothing, a breach of a covenant to undertake building work could
be remedied by undertaking the work late.
Consequences of the notice

A reasonable time must be allowed before taking court proceedings. What is reasonable
will depend on the facts, but three months for repair is at the upper end. For irremediable
breaches, something like 14 days should be allowed for the tenants to consider their
position.
If the breach is remedied, then we have seen that this bars forfeiture. In other cases,
section 146(2) confers discretion on the court to give relief. Where damage to the land-
lord is limited, it is likely that relief will be ordered. It is interesting that relief was allowed
in Scala, even though the court considered the subletting to be irremediable. On the
other hand, in the ‘stigma’ cases the courts have usually denied relief.
10
[1935] 1 KB 87.
11
[1966] 1 QB 611.
12
[1974] QB 575.
13
[1986] Ch 340 (see also Savva v Hussein (1996) 73 P&CR 150 and Akici v LR Butlin Ltd [2006] 1 WLR
201).
201
This means that holding a lease to be irremediable is of little significance: relief may
still be given. The argument that it is unjustified to treat minor breaches as irremediable
loses much of its force. It would seem preferable to drop the remediable/irremediable dis-
tinction and to confer discretion on the court in all cases. This would simplify the law,
remove technical objections to notices and deal with the problem tenant who constantly
and deliberately breaches covenants and then remedies the breach at the last minute.
Relief against forfeiture: subtenants and mortgagees

If a lease is forfeited, any rights created out of it are destroyed. This is disastrous for any
subtenants (subleases are discussed below) and leasehold mortgagees (leases can be
mortgaged just as can the fee simple). In Figure 14.1 below, Len has leased land to Tara
for 30 years at a rent of £10,000 p.a. Tara later subleases half of the property to Sam for
three years at £15,000 p.a. (rental levels have increased sharply). Tara has also mort-
gaged the lease to Mary as security for a loan. If Tara fails to pay rent and the lease is
forfeited, then Sam’s sublease and Mary’s mortgage disappear: Len can recover the land
free from any rights of Tara, Sam and Mary.
There are a number of ways in which Sam and Mary are protected. It is possible for
them to claim relief by paying arrears of rent or using section 146(2) for non-rent breaches.
Either way, the original lease continues if relief is given.
However, the most common basis for relief (whether rent or non-rent) is found in
section 146(4). This gives the court discretion to give relief to subtenants and mortgagees.
If relief is granted under section 146(4), a new lease is granted, rather than the original
lease continued. Why is this important? One point is that Mary and Sam have to com-
pensate Len for the use of the land between forfeiture and the new lease: this may well
exceed the specified rent. It also means that Tara gains no direct or indirect benefit. By
contrast, relief under section 146(2) means that the original lease continues. This could
be problematic if Tara wants no further involvement with the land or the court considers
that her conduct makes it inappropriate that she should continue to be a tenant of the
property.
Figure 14.1 Forfeiture: effect on subtenants and mortgages
202
It is likely that Mary or Sam will be given relief under section 146(4), presuming that
they have no involvement in the breach. What terms will apply to the new lease ordered
under section 146(4)? This is most likely to be a problem for Sam’s sublease. Will he have
a lease of all the premises? If a lease of the relevant half, is the rent £15,000 or £5,000
(the proportionate share of the initial rent)? All that section 146(4) tells us is that the length
cannot exceed that of the sublease (three years). Beyond that, the court has discretion.
However, the courts do seem happy to limit the new lease to part of the premises. This
would be crucial if, for example, Tara had been tenant of a large office block and Sam
was a subtenant of a small part. No subtenant could afford to take on a lease of the entire
block. On the other hand, the choice of rent level is favourable to Len: the higher of the
rent in the original lease and the sublease will be chosen.
A final point is that Sam and Mary will have to make good any breaches by Tara in
the period before relief: this fits the general principle that relief is given if the breach is 14
remedied or the landlord compensated. If Tara has failed to pay rent then Sam will have

to pay this to Len if he seeks relief. The fact that Sam has already paid his £15,000 rent to
Tara does him no good: he also has to pay what Tara has failed to pay. The one crumb
of comfort is that this is relevant only to the part sublet. If there is a sublease of half the
premises, Sam will have to pay half the arrears.
Distress
The ancient remedy of distress enabled the landlord to seize (‘distrain’) the tenant’s
property from the land and, if necessary, sell it. Such property frequently sold for a tiny
fraction of its initial cost: the remedy served more as a potent threat to tenants than an
effective way of raising money. Distress was thought difficult to reconcile with human
rights legislation and was abolished by the Tribunals, Courts and Enforcement Act 2007.
A replacement commercial rent arrears recovery scheme was enacted for commercial
leases. This protects tenants by requiring notice and allowing court intervention.
● Who is liable on covenants?

It is important to bear in mind that it is common for both the landlord and the tenant to
sell and transfer (‘assign’) their interests. For the landlord, it comes as no surprise that a
valuable fee simple may be sold. Many purchasers (assignees) will not be worried that
a tenant is there: the land may be viewed as an income-earning asset. Of course, with a
short lease there may be both rent in the short term and possession in the medium term.
There is an active market in buying property subject to leases.
Tenants may wish to assign their leases. In Figure 14.2, Tabitha is the tenant of a shop
for 15 years. After five years, her business expands such that she needs larger premises. She
could agree with Larry (the landlord) to terminate the lease, but Larry might be reluctant
to give up a safe source of rent for the next ten years. In any event, Tabitha might see
the lease as possessing value that cannot be realised by an agreement with Larry. It will
suit both Larry and Tabitha for Tabitha to assign the lease (for the ten years left) to Alison.
Alison will take over the payment of rent to Larry. If the rent is below current market
levels, then a capital sum may be paid by Alison to Tabitha to reflect the fact that she is
203
Figure 14.2 Assignments and subleases
getting a good bargain. Conversely, if rent levels have dropped (a good reason why Larry
may want the lease to continue) then Tabitha will have to pay Alison for taking on an
otherwise uneconomic burden. It might be added that rental levels do vary and quite
sharp reductions occur every decade or two. Figure 14.2 also shows that Larry assigns
the fee simple to Arthur.
An important aspect of assignment (whether by Larry or Tabitha) is that the assignee
takes over the rights and obligations of the original landlord or tenant. The situation after
the assignments is treated as if Arthur and Alison were landlord and tenant. The terms in
the lease can be enforced between them, just as between Larry and Tabitha originally.
The example in Figure 14.2 also shows a sublease from Alison to Steve. A sublease is
a lease created by a tenant: tenants can create leases just as holders of the fee simple can.
Why would Alison wish to sublet rather than assign? The answer is based on two inter-
locking factors. The first is that in a sublease Alison keeps a stake in the land: she remains
tenant to Arthur and has a say as to how the land is used by Steve. More importantly,
the terms of the lease and sublease may be very different. The lease may have been at
a fixed rent of £10,000 for the duration of the lease and require Alison to repair the
premises. Steve may be interested in taking the shop over, but not to commit himself
for more than a year. He is willing to pay a rent of £20,000, but on the basis of Alison
undertaking repairs.
A sublease can give full effect to these intentions. Obligations in leases bind assignees,
but not (generally) subtenants. Accordingly, Steve has obligations to Alison, but not to
Arthur. Assignment to Steve wouldn’t work for several reasons. One cannot assign for a
period shorter than the lease, the rent level cannot be different from the original lease
and all the obligations (including repair) pass to the assignee. In other words, assignment
and subletting form two very different ways of dealing with the land. They are as different
as a freeholder either selling or leasing the land.
Assignment and subletting

In this section, we consider the rules for distinguishing assignments and subleases and
whether there are any limits on a tenant’s power to assign and sublet.
204
Assignment or sublease?
Subject to what follows, the parties can choose whether to assign or sublet. The duration
of the new agreement is, nevertheless, crucial. If it is for less than the original lease, then
there can only be a sublease: tenants cannot assign for a limited period.
Much more problematic is the law’s stance that a sublease for the entire length of the
lease must be an assignment. Suppose Brian leases land to Carla for ten years at £10,000
rent, with Carla being liable for repair. After five years, Carla purports to sublet to Derek
for the remaining five years. This can operate only as an assignment, as it is for the full
remainder of the lease. The problem is that the parties may have put very different terms
in the sublease. Thus, Derek may have agreed to pay £20,000 rent, but on the basis that
Carla is to repair.
Because the law insists on treating Derek as an assignee, he is liable on the terms in
the lease. This means that he is bound to repair. Disaster! What about rent? Brian can 14
claim the original £10,000 rent from Derek and it is not clear what happens to the other

£10,000 Derek agreed to pay. The result is a mess. It could have been avoided by the
simple expedient of subletting to Derek for the remaining period of the lease less (say)
ten days. It does no credit to the law to require parties to enter such artificial terms in order
to realise their objectives. If the sublease is as long as the lease, it may make sense to
presume an assignment, but not to prohibit a sublease.
Power to assign and sublet

The first point is that the nature of a lease as a property interest entitles the tenant to
assign or sublet. Even if the lease says the tenant cannot do so, an assignment (for example)
is still effective. The results of breach of the lease may, however, be very unpleasant,
including the possibility of forfeiture. This means that no sensible tenant would assign or
sublet in the face of a prohibition in the lease.
The second and main point is that express terms almost always restrict the right to
assign or sublet. This is natural: any landlord will be very worried by the prospect of
an assignee who cannot afford the rent or seems likely to breach other obligations. The
identity of subtenants is less crucial, as the original tenant remains liable. However, most
landlords will be concerned to ensure that any subtenant can pay rent (this will affect the
tenant’s ability to pay the landlord) and use the property appropriately.
It is possible for a lease to prohibit assignment or subletting, but this greatly
diminishes the value of the lease and is very unusual. However, leases almost invariably
require the tenant not to assign or sublet without the consent of the landlord. If consent
is not obtained, the lease is liable to forfeiture. A very important point is that section 19
of the Landlord and Tenant Act 1927 requires that consent should not be unreasonably
withheld in such ‘qualified’ prohibitions. This requirement cannot be excluded.
The giving of consents has for decades been a contentious area. In practical terms,
an assignment or sublease cannot go ahead without consent. If the landlord is slow or
awkward, then the proposed assignee or subtenant may well pull out of the deal. In
response to these concerns, the Landlord and Tenant Act 1988 requires the landlord to
decide within a reasonable time and to give reasons. Importantly, the landlord has to
show that there were reasonable grounds for refusing consent. The tenant can sue for
205
losses caused by a breach of these duties and the landlord can only rely on those reasons
for refusing consent that have been communicated to the tenant.
The 1927 and 1988 Acts have given rise to a lot of cases, though they mostly depend
on their own special facts. However, they demonstrate that justifying refusal of consent
is difficult if the assignee is able to pay the rent and likely to comply with the covenants.
The landlord cannot use the need for consent to renegotiate the lease. Further, the
landlord cannot rely on matters that are collateral to the premises or lease. Take this
example. Frances owns a number of shops, one of which is leased to Gerry for ten years
and another is leased to Helen, with six months left. Helen is expected to renew her lease.
Gerry now proposes to assign his lease to Helen, who would no longer renew her existing
lease. Frances is unhappy with this, as it will soon leave her without a tenant of Helen’s
present shop. This will not justify Frances refusing consent: it has nothing to do with
Gerry’s shop or Helen’s suitability as a tenant.
Since the Landlord and Tenant (Covenants) Act 1995 (the 1995 Act), the lease can
specify circumstances in which the landlord can refuse consent or impose conditions
before consent is given. It is then reasonable for the landlord to refuse consent on these
grounds. This provision relating to consents balances other new rules favourable to
tenants. All this is discussed later in this chapter.
A final point in this area is that we are dealing with assignment by the tenant. There
are no equivalent rules relating to assignment by the landlord. In practical terms, leases
almost never contain limits on the ability of the landlord to assign. In part, this is because
tenants have less bargaining power in settling the terms of the lease and in part because
the identity of the landlord is generally less crucial than that of the tenant.
Liability on the covenants following assignment

Figure 14.3 provides an example which is similar to that used above.
Larry and Tabitha are the original landlord and tenant and remain such until Tabitha
assigns the lease to Alison in 2008. For two years, Larry is the landlord and Alison the
holder of the lease. We say that there is privity of estate between them. All this means is
that Larry is the current landlord and Alison the current tenant. Larry and Tabitha are in
privity of estate until 2008, but that is of little significance as there is (on normal contract
principles) privity of contract as between them. From 2010, there is privity of estate as
between Arthur (current landlord) and Alison (current tenant).
Figure 14.3 Privity of contract and privity of estate
206
The basic rule is quite simple: the covenants in the lease are enforceable between the
parties who are, at the relevant time, in privity of estate. If Alison fails to pay rent in 2011,
it will be Arthur who is entitled to sue. Larry is out of the picture by that time. If Arthur
fails to comply with a repairing covenant in 2011, it will be Alison who can sue. Tabitha
is out of the picture then.
Two factors combine to cause complications. The first is that privity of estate is not an
exclusive basis for liability on covenants. We look at this in more detail under ‘Critical and
controversial issues’, but suppose Alison fails to pay rent in 2009. Larry may seek to sue
Tabitha for this, given that Tabitha has promised to pay rent for 20 years and there is
privity of contract between them.
The second factor is that the Landlord and Tenant (Covenants) Act 1995 provides
a comprehensive structure, with completely new rules, for the running of covenants.
The 1995 Act is not retrospective, so pre-1996 leases are unaffected by it. Accordingly, 14
there are two different sets of principles applicable to covenants, according to the date

of the lease. There are many thousands of long leases which pre-date 1996 and which
will continue for decades to come. Nevertheless, the proportion of ‘new tenancies’
(the term used in the 1995 Act, but we will call them ‘1995 Act leases’) obviously grows
as the years go by. We look at the old rules only briefly.
Which covenants run?

When we refer to covenants running, we mean that the benefit can be enforced by an
assignee and that the burden is incurred by an assignee. In our example, it means that
the burden of the obligation to pay rent passes to Alison and the benefit of that obliga-
tion passes to Arthur. However, it is simplistic to assume that every covenant is treated in
the same way.
The law before the 1995 Act (still applicable to pre-1996 leases) required that a
covenant should touch and concern the land before it would run. The traditional test is
that ‘the covenant must either affect the land as regards mode of occupation, or it must
be such as per se, and not merely from collateral circumstances, affects the value of the land’.
A more general and modern expression of the test is whether the covenant ‘affects the
landlord in his normal capacity as landlord or the tenant in his normal capacity as tenant’.
Typical covenants such as payment of rent, repair of the premises and restricting
land use clearly touch and concern. An option for the tenant to purchase the freehold,
however, does not touch and concern – it has insufficient effect on the lease or the land.
A covenant that somebody will (or will not) be employed on the land will not touch and
concern unless the person’s identity is important as regards the land (not just to the indi-
viduals who are landlord and tenant). Thus a promise not to employ persons convicted
of arson in a lease of a refinery would touch and concern, whereas a covenant to employ
the landlord’s son as manager of a leased shop would not touch and concern. More gen-
erally, covenants that relate to other land are unlikely to touch and concern unless there
is some direct link between the plots. Accordingly, a covenant by a tenant to build a house
for the landlord on adjoining land would not touch and concern, whereas a covenant by
a landlord not to use adjoining land for business purposes (so as to protect the amenity
value of the leased land) would touch and concern.
207
It is easy to grasp the basic idea that only covenants relating to the landlord and
tenant relationship should run on assignments. However, the test has given rise to large
numbers of cases. Romer LJ expressed his opinion trenchantly:14 ‘The established rules . . .
are purely arbitrary, and the distinctions, for the most part, quite illogical.’ Fortunately,
the touching and concerning requirement is removed for 1995 Act leases.
For 1995 Act leases, the simple general rule is that all covenants run with the land. This
applies to ‘landlord covenants’ and ‘tenant covenants’ (those to be complied with by
landlord and tenant respectively). Some covenants will patently not be entered into as
landlord or tenant. Suppose Tabitha, the tenant, covenants to build on adjoining land
(owned by her). Will this obligation run to bind an assignee of the lease? It is probable
that the courts would hold that this was not, in the language of the Act, ‘a covenant
falling to be complied with by the tenant of premises demised [leased] by the tenancy’.
It is a covenant to be complied with by the owner of the adjoining land rather than by
the tenant, though they happen to be the same person initially.
In a similar fashion, the rules on the running of covenants do not apply to those
‘expressed to be personal to any person’. This seems not to require express words: the
intention can be made clear from the circumstances.
These rules enable the courts to hold that patently personal obligations do not run in
an obviously inappropriate manner. It would be wrong, however, to suppose that they
replicate the old touching and concerning rules. Many covenants that did not touch and
concern will today run in 1995 Act leases.
Privity of estate
The law here is fairly straightforward. Returning to the example above, Arthur and Alison
will be able to enforce the covenants in the lease between each other. For leases after the
1995 Act, section 3 makes this clear. For older leases, it is the combined result of Spencer’s
Case15 (assignment of lease) and LPA sections 141 and 142 (assignment of reversion).
Just one point of detail is worth observing. Suppose a covenant relates to just part of
the premises. An example might be where Tabitha takes a lease of a house and field,
covenanting to keep the house in repair. Subsequently, Tabitha assigns the lease of the
field (but not the house) to Alison. Section 3 makes it clear that Alison has no liability for
the repair of the house, as it relates to a part of the leased land that was excluded from
her assignment.
Breaches before assignment

There are two questions to consider: who can be sued and who can sue. Taking liability
first, suppose that Tabitha failed to pay rent before the assignment to Alison in 2008.
Both before and after the 1995 Act, it is clear that Alison has no liability – it is not her
breach. However, Tabitha’s breach entitles the landlord to forfeit the lease and this would
place huge pressure on Alison to pay the arrears. In practice, Alison would not purchase
14
Grant v Edmondson [1931] 1 Ch 1 at p. 28.
15
(1583) 5 Co Rep 16a (77 ER 72).
208
the lease without getting an assurance that there is no breach (nor would Tabitha con-
sent to assignment until the arrears have been paid).
Rights to sue have proved more difficult. If arrears are owed by Tabitha or Alison in
2010, can Larry (the landlord at the time of the breach) or Arthur (the present landlord)
claim? Larry is owed a debt by Tabitha (or Alison) and it is always possible to assign the
benefit of a debt. The question is whether the sale of the land operates as an assignment
of the debt. A certain and clear answer is required for Larry and Arthur to work out how
much Arthur should pay. If Arthur can claim £10,000 arrears, then he will pay more for
the land.
Prior to the 1995 Act, Re King16 held that the benefit did pass to the assignee of the
reversion (Arthur). This had some merit in that the right to forfeit and the right to damages
were held by the same person. However, section 23 of the 1995 Act reverses this and
adopts more of a ‘clean break’ approach: the benefit does not pass, absent any express 14
assignment. Perhaps surprisingly, the assignee can still bring forfeiture proceedings.

Breaches after assignment
It follows from what has been said above that Alison and Arthur can sue each other. The
question whether Larry and Tabitha can be made contractually liable for the wrongs of
their assignees has caused controversy. It is fully considered below under ‘Critical and
controversial issues’.
Equitable leases and equitable assignments

Before the 1995 Act, most cases indicated that privity of estate requires a legal lease and
a legal assignment. Accordingly, covenants would not run if there were an equitable
lease or (the most likely problem) if there were an equitable assignment of a legal lease.
None of this fits well with the idea discussed in the previous chapter that an equitable
lease is as good as a legal lease.
Fortunately, the 1995 Act provides (but only for 1995 Act leases) that the new rules
apply to equitable leases and equitable assignments. It is not worth discussing the old
rules further.
Concurrent leases
Concurrent leases are created when a landlord leases land first to one person and then
to a second. It sounds as if there is a conflict between the two leases, but the law finds a
way of making good practical sense of the situation. We can start with one clear propo-
sition: the first tenant can always claim possession. The apparent position in Figure 14.4
represents the position as it initially seems, with the leases apparently conflicting. The
legal analysis shows how the law treats the relationship between the two leases.
The practical effect of the concurrent leases is to make Ursula the immediate landlord
of Thomas, for so long as her lease continues. Ursula can collect and keep the rent and
is able to enforce the covenants. Thomas, of course, possesses the land. However, it is not
a true sublease. If it were, then Thomas’s lease would fail if Ursula’s lease were forfeited
16
[1963] Ch 459.
209
Figure 14.4 Concurrent leases
for breach of covenants by Ursula. That certainly does not happen here: Thomas’s claim
to the land is quite independent of Ursula’s lease.
Subleases
The example illustrated in Figure 14.5 was used earlier in the chapter, when we noted the
main rules applicable to subleases. We have seen that Arthur and Alison are in privity of
estate and can enforce the covenants against each other. Steve, the subtenant, is not in
privity of estate with Arthur and is not liable to him.
However, it would be wrong to think that the contents of the head lease are of no sig-
nificance to Steve. When Alison sublets to Steve, she will be aware that she remains liable
for any breach of covenant. Steve’s conduct is most likely to put her in breach if there is
a negative obligation (not to use the land for business, for example) in the head lease.
She will ensure that Steve covenants to comply with this sort of obligation. However, his
obligation is owed to Alison rather than Arthur. Nor is it likely that terms of the sublease
Figure 14.5 Subleases
210
will be intended to benefit the landlord such as to give rise to liability under the Contracts
(Rights of Third Parties) Act 1999.17
What action can Arthur take if Steve acts in breach of the head lease? He can claim
forfeiture of Alison’s head lease. This will destroy the sublease regardless of whether it
contains the relevant term in the head lease. This encourages Steve to comply with the
head lease if he wishes the sublease to survive.
The next possibility for Arthur turns on the law relating to restrictive covenants. As we
shall see in more detail in Chapter 17, covenants restrictive of the use of land can be
proprietary interests binding anyone coming into contact with the land. Suppose Tabitha
covenants that the premises should not be used for business purposes. This is a restric-
tive covenant that will be binding on Alison (here it overlaps with privity of estate liability)
and, more importantly, Steve. Arthur can enforce the covenant against Steve and this is
confirmed by the 1995 Act, section 3(5). 14
Two points should be made about this restrictive covenant liability. The first is that

restrictive covenants usually involve two plots of land: the benefited land and the bur-
dened land. For Tabitha’s covenant, there is only one plot: the leased land. This problem
is resolved by treating the landlord’s estate (the freehold) and the tenant’s estate (the
lease) as if they were different plots. We treat the freehold estate as the benefited land
and the lease as the burdened land. It is a somewhat generous rule but seems to work
satisfactorily.
The second point is that restrictive covenants normally have to be registered in order
to bind purchasers. However, restrictive covenants in leases (if affecting the leased land,
as does Tabitha’s covenant) are exempted from this requirement.18

● Leases as contracts
It is easy to see a lease as a contract: it is an agreement between landlord and tenant
whereby exclusive possession is granted in return for a rent. However, the law relating to
leases has been established over many centuries and much of it pre-dates modern con-
tractual principles. Some lease rules cannot be explained in contract terms. This is true,
for example, of the rules on the running of covenants: privity of contract means that the
burden of contracts cannot pass to third parties.
Though other lease rules may be more amenable to a contractual analysis, many
operate differently from normal contract rules. It is unlikely that a rule specific to leases
can be challenged simply because it has no contract equivalent. An example of this is the
requirement, considered in Chapter 13, that the maximum duration of a lease must be
certain. Although this has no equivalent in normal contract rules, this is not by itself a
basis for challenging the requirement.
17
This Act is discussed in more detail in Chapter 17; see especially p. 265, below.
18
Land Registration Act 2002, ss 29(2)(b), 33(c).
211
Contract rules are far more likely to be important where they offer an analysis that is
absent in conventional thinking as to the operation of leases. An excellent example of this
is provided by frustration. It is well known that a contract can be terminated by a frus-
trating event: if some unforeseen event renders the anticipated performance impossible.
For many years, it was thought that no such doctrine applied to leases. Once a lease had
been granted, the tenant had got what had been promised. If the land turned out to be
incapable of use, that was simply a risk the tenant had to accept.
Frustration was reviewed by the House of Lords in National Carriers Ltd v Panalpina
(Northern) Ltd.19 The case involved a ten-year lease. The access road was closed by the
local authority for 20 months halfway through the lease. The tenant argued that this
frustrated the lease. A majority of the House of Lords (Lord Russell disagreeing) held
that leases could be frustrated. Two arguments were especially persuasive. First, any
other result would mean that leases would be inexplicably different from comparable
transactions such as licences of land or charters of ships. Second, refusal of frustration
would make no sense if there were a lease of an upper-floor flat in a block that is burnt
to the ground or of a cliff-edge house that collapses (with the land on which it was built)
into the sea. However, all the judges agreed that the facts in Panalpina did not amount
to frustration. Particularly for longer leases, it will take wholly exceptional facts before
frustration will operate.
Panalpina is a strong case because it was originally thought that frustration did not
apply to leases: it did more than fill a void. It has been easier to apply mistake and mis-
representation principles to leases, as their application had not previously been denied.
Some of the interesting modern cases have involved the termination of leases for
breach. Traditionally this was the preserve of forfeiture, which operates in a distinctly dif-
ferent manner to repudiatory breach in contract law. Over the past few decades, the courts
have turned to repudiatory breach. In 1985, the High Court of Australia in Progressive
Mailing House Pty Ltd v Tabali Pty Ltd 20 held that a landlord could rely on repudiatory
breach by the tenant. This might be thought surprising, as landlords would normally use
forfeiture. However, it was used to justify recovery of lost rent after the tenant’s breach
(normally an attempt to recover such rent would act as waiver of the right to forfeit).
In England, Hussein v Mehlman 21 allowed the tenant to rescind following repudiatory
breach by the landlord, who was guilty of a serious failure to repair in a lease for three
years. This is understandable, as forfeiture operates only in favour of the landlord. It is
likely to be useful only in cases where the lease has no value – in other cases, the tenant
would lose an asset if the Hussein remedy were asserted.
More recently, the Court of Appeal in Reichman v Beveridge 22 held that the authorities
did not permit repudiatory breach to be used following a tenant’s breach, so as to impose
liability for future rent. This may be seen as a more timid approach towards the use of
contractual analyses. It may be admitted that it would be very undesirable if repudiatory
19
[1981] AC 675.
20
(1985) 157 CLR 17.
21
[1992] 2 EGLR 87.
22
[2007] 1 P&CR 358 at [26]–[27], [32].
212
breach analyses were to sidestep tenants’ protections against forfeiture. However, that
argument was not employed in Reichman and the earlier cases had been alert to the danger.
Another important area concerns the implication of terms into leases. It has been
seen that obligations to repair are not normally implied. Indeed, the covenant for quiet
enjoyment and the obligation that dwelling houses be fit for habitation are exceptional
examples of implied terms in leases. However, the courts are beginning to rely upon
contract principles to adopt a more interventionist approach. This is seen in the House of
Lords’ decision in Liverpool City Council v Irwin,23 which involved a block of flats. The
tenants complained about the state of the stairs and lifts, and their lighting. The tenancy
agreement said nothing about the obligations of the landlord, not even to give a right
of access over the stairs and lift. It was held that there was an implied easement to use
these central facilities (scarcely surprising) and that there was an implied obligation to
take reasonable care to maintain the facilities. It is doubtful how significant this decision 14
is outside its specific context: essential central facilities for a block of flats. Although it

shows that obligations can be implied using contractual principles, it has not heralded
any real growth in implied obligations being imposed on landlords.
The controversial decision of the House of Lords in Bruton v London & Quadrant
Housing Trust 24 raises a quite different question as to the role of contract. The defendants
had a licence (a permission to use land, not amounting to a proprietary interest) over a
number of houses. They gave exclusive possession to the claimant of one of the houses.
The claim was for a breach of the statutory repairing duty of landlords, for which pur-
pose the claimant had to possess a lease. It was undoubted that the claimant would have
had a lease if the defendants had held either the fee simple or a lease.
The defendants argued that, because they were merely licensees, they could not grant
a lease to the claimant: they could not give a property right which they did not them-
selves possess. To the surprise of most commentators, the House of Lords held there to
be a tenancy: they stress the relationship between the parties far more than estates and
property interests. Many commentators object that this confuses the contractual right
between the parties with the proprietary status of a lease: how could the claimant have
a lease when there is no property right? The decision seems to view leases as capable of
operating on a solely contractual basis: a far more extreme contractual perspective than
taken by earlier cases.
It may be conceded that the practical result that the defendant owed the normal
duties of landlords was reasonable. However, there are doubts as to which lease rules
apply to this contractual lease (sometimes called a ‘non-estate tenancy’). One thing is
quite clear: the tenant has no property right binding the licensor. As between the licensee
(landlord) and tenant there may be a lease, but this does not affect the right of the
licensor to gain possession on the termination of the licence.
When considering the status of the Bruton lease, a further point to consider is that
property rights are regarded by English law as more relative than absolute. As adverse
possession has demonstrated, it is possible to have more than one fee simple. A
23
[1977] AC 239.
24
[2000] 1 AC 406.
213
similar point is seen in leases with the tenancy by estoppel, where a lease is granted by
a person who has no estate in the land. This relativity analysis may be the only way of
justifying Bruton.
● Liability of assignors for breaches after assignment

One factor has been added to our standard example: a further assignment of the lease
to Belinda (see Figure 14.6). The question to consider is whether Tabitha is liable for
failures by Alison and Belinda to pay rent. There can be equivalent issues as to whether
Larry can be made liable for Arthur’s breaches (failure to repair, for example), but that
question has rarely arisen.
Why should Tabitha be liable? The answer is based on two factors. The first is that
Tabitha has promised to pay rent for 20 years. The fact that she has assigned the lease
does not remove this contractual liability undertaken by her. Indeed, statute provides
that the tenant covenants ‘on behalf of himself his successors in title and the persons
deriving title under him’.25
The second factor is the practical point that a tenant cannot be permitted to get out
of liability by assigning the lease to a person who patently cannot afford to undertake the
obligations (a man of straw). These factors together justify the very old rule of contrac-
tual liability of tenants: Tabitha remains liable throughout the lease.
The problem
A number of factors combined to bring the law into disrepute by the 1980s, whereupon
it was reviewed by the Law Commission.26 It was central to the thinking of the Law
Commission that tenants regard assignment as a termination of their relationship with
the land. Even though the tenants sued are almost invariably tenants of commercial
premises who have legal advice, this has not stopped their being surprised and upset
when contractual liability has been asserted.
Figure 14.6 Liability of assignors after assignment
25
LPA, s 79; considered in more detail in Chapter 17.
26
Law Com No 174 (1989).
214
More powerful, perhaps, is the point that the danger of assignment to a man of straw
is negligible today. We have seen that the landlord nearly always has to consent to an
assignment. Before consenting, the landlord will seek to establish that the assignee will
be able to pay the rent. Accordingly, the landlord has taken the choice of allowing the
assignee to take over. If things go wrong, it is far from clear that the tenant should foot
the bill.
Furthermore, the circumstances and extent of liability can be oppressive. The landlord
can readily monitor the assignee’s payment of rent and take steps if things look to be
going wrong. In contrast, the first the original tenant (Tabitha) is likely to know of the
problem is when presented with a large bill for arrears over a lengthy period. It is diffi-
cult to make proper provision for (or guard against) such sudden and unpredictable
liability. These problems were brought home when economic recession in the 1980s led
to many assignees defaulting on rent repayments and landlords began more aggressively 14
to pursue tenants for arrears. To the horror of tenants, they found themselves liable for

increases in rent beyond those in the original lease and for periods of renewal beyond
the original length of the lease.
Although liability is based upon contracts freely negotiated between businessmen,
the Law Commission concluded that reform was needed. This was the principal reason
why the 1995 Act was enacted.
The solution: pre-1996 leases

Most of the legislation applies only to 1995 Act leases, but the problems with con-
tractual liability were thought so serious as to require some immediate changes. There
are three separate protections, applying to both pre-1996 leases and 1995 Act leases.
Section 17 requires the landlord to give notice to the original tenant (Tabitha) within
six months of the breach. This avoids the problem of large arrears building up before
Tabitha becomes aware of the problem, though by itself it doesn’t allow Tabitha to do
anything about it.
Section 18 sets out to deal with the problem of variations of leases between the land-
lord and the assignee, whereby Tabitha’s liability might be rendered more extensive than
under the original lease. No greater liability can be imposed on Tabitha, unless Larry
(assuming he is the landlord at the relevant time) cannot refuse the variation. Thus,
Tabitha will not be affected if Alison and Larry negotiate an extension to the lease. How-
ever, if Alison exercises a right to extend the lease then there would be no protection –
this is a situation in which Larry has no right to object. Just before the section came into
effect, the Court of Appeal in Friends’ Provident Life Office v British Railways Board 27
limited the liability of tenants in a similar fashion by interpretation of the extent of the
liability. Arguably, section 18 has been proved unnecessary.
A third protection applies once Tabitha has paid arrears. She can claim an ‘overriding
lease’. This is a lease from Larry for the same length as the assigned lease. Its effect is to
give control over Alison (and Belinda): Tabitha can take steps to ensure that they pay rent
or have their lease forfeited. However, this protection applies only after Tabitha pays
27
[1996] 1 All ER 336.
215
arrears; it does not apply when the section 17 notice is issued. By the time Tabitha is
called upon to pay, it may be too late to remedy the situation.
The solution: 1995 Act leases

Section 5 of the 1995 Act starts from a very different perspective: once the lease is
assigned, the original tenant has no liability. Accordingly, Tabitha (assuming a lease after
1996) faces neither privity of contract nor privity of estate liability after assignment. This
cannot be excluded by the parties. Tabitha will still be liable if she assigns in breach of
covenant (Larry hasn’t approved the assignee) or the assignment follows her bankruptcy,
but these are minor exceptions.
Unfortunately for Tabitha, the new law does not stop there. Section 16 permits Larry
to enter into an authorised guarantee agreement with Tabitha whereby she guarantees
performance of the covenants by Alison. There is some justification for this in that Tabitha
has chosen Alison as an assignee and shares responsibility with Larry if Alison turns out
not to be able to pay the rent. Nevertheless, it means there is no clean break at the time
of assignment.
A very important limitation on the guarantee is that it covers only the immediate
assignee: Alison. Once Alison assigns to Belinda, Tabitha’s liability ends. Section 25 pro-
hibits any attempted variation of these rules. However, it is possible for Larry to enter into
a fresh authorised guarantee agreement with Alison, whereby Alison guarantees perform-
ance by Belinda. It follows that the landlord can ensure that the immediate assignor is
always liable as well as the tenant.
It may be recalled that the 1995 Act permits the parties to specify when consent to
assignment can be refused. This was inserted so that Larry could put a term in the lease
that consent to assignment can be refused unless the assignor enters into an authorised
guarantee agreement. This means that such agreements will be very common. The pro-
tection for pre-1996 tenants (notice, variation, overriding leases) applies to liability under
authorised guarantee agreements.
Recovery by tenants
Suppose Tabitha has had to pay rent because of default by Alison or Belinda. Is there any-
body from whom she can recover payment? Whichever of Alison or Belinda is in default
has primary liability to pay rent and must compensate Tabitha. In reality, tenants who
have failed to pay their rent are unlikely to be able to pay Tabitha – at least, unless they
win the lottery.
Further, a term is implied into assignments whereby the assignee accepts liability for
the duration of the lease. This means that Alison is liable to Tabitha for breach by herself
or Belinda. As regards Belinda, this ceases to be relevant in 1995 Act leases. Tabitha can
be liable (under an authorised guarantee arrangement) only while Alison remains tenant.
Contractual liability of landlords

The rules so far relate to the liability of tenants. Landlords can face similar contract liability,
though this is very unusual.
216
The 1995 Act attempts to allow landlords to have a clean break, just like tenants.
However, it is not possible to replicate the rules exactly, as tenants do not consent to
assignment of the reversion. The solution is to permit Larry to serve notice on the tenant.
In our example, Alison was the tenant when Larry assigns in 2010. If either Alison does
not object or the court declares that it is reasonable for Larry to be released from the
covenant, then Larry ceases to be bound.
Conclusions
The following comments apply to 1995 Act leases. It is plain that extensive provision is
made in the area of contractual liability and that tenants are better off than before. We
still have to ask ourselves how far it is justified to interfere with freedom of contract in
commercial contracts. Nevertheless, experience seems to show that landlords have the
stronger bargaining power and are able to dictate the terms of the lease. The protection 14
of the original tenant is, of course, significantly qualified by the authorised guarantee

agreement. For Tabitha, it is a matter of chance how her liability might develop. If Alison
never assigns, then Tabitha remains liable for the duration of the lease. She is little better
off than before, though sections 17 to 19 may provide some help. On the other hand,
Alison might assign to Belinda after six months, in which case Tabitha’s potential liability
terminates. For somebody who needs to be able to assess the extent and duration of risks
faced, it may be thought that the law still fails to provide Tabitha with the clean break
she wants.

C AS E
in this chapter:
Billson and others v Residential Apartments [1992] 1 All ER 141 A
R
N
V I G AT O
Bruton v London and Quadrant Housing Trust [1999] 3 All ER POWERED BY
217
OTHER INTERESTS
Part 4 IN LAND
15 Licences 221
16 Easements 234
17 Covenants 256
18 Mortgages 273
15 Licences

icences constitute a rather unusual topic. Most land law involves settled principles
L that have been recognised for centuries. By contrast, the material in this chapter
almost all dates from after the Second World War. Traditionally, licences have not been
regarded as interests in land: they do not bind purchasers. It is exciting to see the law’s
struggle with controversial ideas that might lead to a new branch of interests in land.
Because the law is still developing, it reveals many uncertainties and contradictions.
● What are licences?

When we deal with interests in land such as leases and easements, we have a pretty good
idea of the nature of the right we are talking about. Licences are different because they
constitute a residuary group of rights relating to land. A licence is any permission to do
something on land that is not a lease, easement or other property right. Licences include
situations as diverse as having a ticket to see a concert or sporting event, visiting a friend
for dinner, going onto a neighbour’s land to find a football that has been kicked over the
boundary fence, going to a club, staying in a hotel and living with a boyfriend or girlfriend.
There may also be a licence to do something on one’s own land (such as creating noise)
which would otherwise be a nuisance.
This huge range of circumstances has made it difficult to develop a coherent legal
structure, other than one which says that land law should ignore licences! Perhaps we
should distinguish some forms of licence and treat them differently. Some people have
argued that we should give greater recognition to licences that involve occupation of
premises as a home. These licences look similar to leases, which involve exclusive posses-
sion, but lack some vital requirement such as a fixed term. As yet, the cases provide little
support for distinguishing between different forms of licence.
The range of licences is such that they potentially cover most land law interests – all
leases and easements, for example, could be viewed as licences. However, there are
many interests that are quite different from licences. There are two principal examples.
The first is a security interest, such as a mortgage. This enables the lender to realise the
221
value of property in order to ensure the payment of the debt. Covenants form a second
example. A restrictive covenant (such as a covenant not to build on land) involves no
right to do anything on land.
● Distinguishing the methods of protection

The normal way of dividing up licences is by reference to how they are created. A bare
licence is one that has no supporting legal basis: no contract, for example. An example
would be inviting somebody for a drink at your home. Bare licences can be terminated
and the only question is how much time has to be allowed for the licensee (the person
to whom the licence was given) to leave. For the drink invitation this would be a matter
of seconds, but it would be much longer for somebody allowed to live in a house.
At the other end of the spectrum, licences can operate as part of another interest. A
good example is where Sally has a right to take fish from a lake on Valerie’s land (this is
a proprietary interest called a profit). A moment’s thought will reveal that Sally has to go
on to Valerie’s land in order to reach the lake and catch fish. The courts accept that this
licence to enter the land should be treated as part of the profit and binds purchasers from
Valerie in the same way as the profit.
That example is straightforward. It has been extended to situations where Sally owns
an object (felled timber could be an example) on Valerie’s land and needs a licence to
get possession of it. Much more controversial are dicta that the licence can be connected
with a merely contractual right. If correct it would seem that any contractual licence
would bind purchasers, which we shall see is not the law. The dicta seem to overlook the
requirement that the licence must be connected with a property interest.
Most problems have arisen with licences protected by a contract or estoppel, or else
where there is a constructive trust. The remaining sections of this chapter are devoted to
these areas. We shall see that the law may be criticised as being incoherent in its recog-
nition of licences created in different ways.
● Should we be worried about licences as interests in land?

A point to bear in mind throughout this chapter is that licences are, at most, on the
outer edge of interests recognised as proprietary. The topic is important in demonstrat-
ing what it is that makes an interest proprietary: how and why we don’t recognise every
right as proprietary. As seen in Chapter 1, the law recognises only specified interests
in land.
Why should the law restrict the range of interests in land and, in particular, have diffi-
culty with licences? The major factors underpinning this relate to the need for purchasers
to be able to identify clearly the burdens by which they may be affected and ensuring
that land remains as useful and marketable as possible. If unlimited obligations were to
bind purchasers, there is a risk that selling land would become more difficult, seriously
impeding economically efficient land use.
222

The controversial nature of licences is such that nearly all the material could be treated
as a critical and controversial issue. Of the categories of licences, bare licences and
licences coupled with an interest have already been considered. Contractual licences are
covered in this section. Constructive trusts and estoppel licences are considered under
‘Critical and controversial issues’. It is worth noting that these last two forms of protection
apply to licences that start off as bare or contractual licences. In other words, a licence
may fall into more than one of the categories.
● Contractual licences: licensor and licensee 15

When considering licences as possible proprietary interests, it is first necessary to estab-
lish that they can be enforced as between licensor (landowner) and licensee. If Rachel
Licences
allows Sally to use her land, but the law permits Rachel to evict Sally, then it is plain that
any purchaser from Rachel can likewise evict Sally. That is one reason why bare licences
are very clearly not proprietary: they need not be considered further. If a contract forms
the basis of Sally’s licence, the first question is whether Rachel can evict Sally in breach
of contract.
The nineteenth-century approach was to say that the contract had no effect on the
rights of the landowner. The licensee (Sally) can be evicted from the land, though she
may have an action in contract for damages. The twentieth-century cases gave greater
effect to contractual rights. In Hurst v Picture Theatres Ltd,1 the licensee had bought a
cinema ticket. When the cinema manager used force to evict the licensee, this was held
to constitute the tort of assault. To reach that conclusion, the court had to accept that
the licensee was entitled to remain on the land. The earlier cases were explained on the
basis that they were decided in courts of common law, whereas Hurst was based on the
enforcement of a contract in equity (using equitable remedies such as injunction or
specific performance). We no longer have separate courts of law and equity, so there is
no longer any difficulty in applying the equitable right to remain.
This equitable right to remain deserves a little more explanation. If there is a contract
for a legal interest (a fee simple, for example), then equity will treat the contract as
carried out. In the eyes of equity there is already a fee simple from the date of the con-
tract. This explains the status of the estate contract as a proprietary interest. This equit-
able interest exists before an equitable remedy has been sought or awarded. Hurst applies
similar reasoning to licences. The courts will give equitable remedies such as specific
performance (to enforce the contract) or injunction (to prevent revocation in breach of
contract). If such a remedy had been given to Mr Hurst, it is plain that he could have
stayed in the cinema and that any attempt to evict him would have constituted an
1
[1915] 1 KB 1.
223
assault. Of course, no such remedy had been awarded in Hurst, but we apply the maxim
that equity treats as done that which ought to be done.
This reasoning nevertheless contained a weakness: much of it fails to recognise that a
licence is not a legal interest like a fee simple. Nevertheless, the enforceability of licences
was accepted in Winter Garden Theatre (London) Ltd v Millenium Productions Ltd.2 The
case involved a licence to produce plays in the licensor’s theatre. The Court of Appeal
held that the licensor could not terminate the licence, as there was an implied term not
to revoke it. The House of Lords agreed with the effect of such a term, though on the
facts they decided that no such term should be implied.
It now appears settled that contractual licences will normally be enforced as between
the licensor and licensee. One memorable case is Verrall v Great Yarmouth BC,3 in which
the National Front had contracted to hold their annual conference in the defendant’s
Wellington Pier pavilion. When the Labour Party took control of the council, the licence
was purportedly revoked. The Court of Appeal granted specific performance. The political
context makes it an interesting case, though the licences aspects were by that time
(1979) quite settled. In particular, any argument that specific performance would not be
ordered for a short-term licence was roundly rejected.
Even so, equitable enforcement of contractual licences raises controversial issues. Is it
really the case that landowners should be prevented from terminating licences? In some
circumstances, most people would agree that specific performance is not practicable. A
standard example is where two people share premises. If their relationship has broken
down, it will often be the case that continuing to share the premises simply will not work.
Thompson v Park4 provides a good example. Two headmasters agreed to share the school
of one of them. After disagreements had arisen, the licence was revoked. Undaunted, the
licensee forced his way back into the school. The Court of Appeal was emphatic that the
licensee had no right to return to the school once the licence had been revoked, whether
lawfully or not. This is well justified by the observation that ‘the court cannot specifically
enforce an agreement for two people to live peaceably under the same roof’.
A more general attack has been mounted in Australia, especially in the High Court in
Cowell v Rosehill Racecourse Co Ltd.5 The Australian courts have accepted an argument
that landowners should be allowed discretion as to the use of their land, which restricts
the availability of equitable remedies for licensees.
Two examples may be given in support of this. In sporting or entertainment cases
(the context of both Hurst and Cowell), the licensor may sometimes need to eject the
licensee, whether because of misconduct or safety considerations. Whether ejection can
be justified involves a question of judgment; it may be too heavy-handed to impose
liability in assault if the wrong choice is made. The second example concerns building
contracts, under which the builder has a licence to enter and construct a building. If the
landowner loses confidence in the builder, is it really justified to say that the builder has
2
[1946] 1 All ER 678 (Court of Appeal); [1948] AC 173 (House of Lords).
3
[1981] QB 202.
4
[1944] KB 408.
5
(1937) 56 CLR 605.
224
a right to complete the building? Both these examples may be best resolved by damages
liability for loss caused by breach of contract. The Australian approach does not treat
equitable remedies as impossible for licences, but it is far more cautious as to the circum-
stances in which they are appropriate. There is a lot to be said in its favour.
● Contractual licences: licensee and purchaser

We have seen that English law provides equitable remedies against the licensor. If the
licensor sells the land, is the purchaser bound? Suppose Jeremy is promoting a concert
in his stadium. Irene buys a ticket for £40 for a date in September, three months away.
In August, Jeremy sells the stadium to Kelly. Kelly has no wish for it to be used for a con-
cert and informs Irene and other ticket holders that the concert will not take place.
Until licences were regarded as giving equitable remedies against the licensor, there
15
was no chance of their affecting purchasers such as Kelly. The early cases after Hurst con-
Licences
tinued to assert that purchasers were not affected.6 In the 1950s, the Court of Appeal in
Errington v Errington7 surprised lawyers by holding that a successor in title was
bound. A father (licensor) allowed his son and daughter-in-law to occupy land, on the
basis that they would pay the mortgage instalments and have a right to the land when
the mortgage was paid off. The father died and the property passed to his widow (the
successor in title). When the son left the daughter-in-law, it was held that the widow
could not evict her. The problem with Errington is that the court discusses the enforce-
ment of contractual licences against licensors, but barely mentions the really difficult
question of liability of successors in title.
Why might the contractual licence in Errington bind successors? One possibility is that
the equitable remedy binds the successor in title. This analysis depends more on remed-
ies rather than licences. It is an idea that has surfaced several times over the centuries in
attempts to broaden categories of proprietary interests. However, it has almost always
been rejected. In the licences context, the House of Lords firmly threw it out in National
Provincial Bank Ltd v Ainsworth8 and the point now seems unarguable. It would lead to
an unprincipled growth in proprietary interests.
A second possibility is the bold assertion that a contractual licence is a new interest in
land. This seemed credible for a time, but it was rejected by the Court of Appeal in
Ashburn Anstalt v Arnold 9 (licence to use shop premises). The court concluded that the
authorities were clear that contractual licences are not interests in land. Errington itself
was said to be explicable on estoppel grounds (discussed below). Although there may be
some flaws in the Ashburn Anstalt decision (not all the relevant cases were cited and
other aspects of the decision have been reversed), the reality is that no subsequent attempt
6
Two commonly cited cases are King v David Allen & Sons, Billposting, Ltd [1916] 2 AC 54 (right to fix
advertisements to a wall) and Clore v Theatrical Properties Ltd [1936] 3 All ER 483 (right to use ‘front of
house’ rights to sell refreshments, etc. in a theatre).
7
[1952] 1 KB 290.
8
[1965] AC 1175 (deserted wife as licensee).
9
[1989] Ch 1.
225
has been made to revive the contractual licence. Ashburn Anstalt on licences has always
been quoted with approval by other cases.
Contractual licences are therefore dead as regards proprietary status; it is clear that
Irene’s ticket gives her no rights against Kelly. It is virtually unthinkable that this will
change in the foreseeable future. Perhaps licences to occupy homes should receive
special protection, but there is no hint of this in the cases.
It is sometimes argued that new proprietary interests are made impossible by section
4 of the Law of Property Act 1925: ‘after the commencement of this Act . . . an equitable
interest in land shall only be capable of being validly created in any case in which an
equivalent equitable interest could have been created before such commencement.’
Although that provision could bear that meaning, it would be odd for Parliament perman-
ently to have limited what the courts could do. It is better explained as a statement as
to the effect of the 1925 legislation itself; in other words, the changes in 1925 did not
create new interests.
Another weak argument is that Ainsworth might be subverted by a somewhat puzzl-
ing provision in the Land Registration Act 2002. Section 116 enacts that a ‘mere equity’
(which is how we generally describe equitable remedies) is capable of binding purchasers
of registered land. If this were to apply to contractual licences, it would be a radical devel-
opment. It is clear that section 116 was intended to clarify rather than change the law,
as shown by its wording ‘for the avoidance of doubt’. It is very unlikely to apply to licences.
Even if contractual licences (or some of them) were one day to be recognised as pro-
prietary, land registration rules would have to be remembered. As lawyers are often not
involved in creating licences, it is extremely unlikely that licences will be protected on the
register. Without such protection, purchasers will not be bound unless there is actual
occupation. This means that Irene’s £40 ticket would still do her little good against Kelly.
If contractual licences are to have any proprietary effect, it is most likely to in conjunc-
tion with constructive trust or estoppel analyses. These are discussed later.
● Remedies available to licensees

The question is whether a licensee has remedies against complete outsiders (not the
licensor or a successor in title). Suppose Ursula gives Vera a contractual licence to occupy
land for an indefinite period. Six months later, Winona (who has no connection with
either Ursula or Vera) enters the land. Does Vera possess any remedy against Winona?
It is sometimes thought that a proprietary interest is required for remedies such as tres-
pass (most suitable for Vera) or nuisance. However, the true position is that possession
(or at least exclusive possession) is sufficient. This fits with English property principles,
which place more stress on possession than on ownership and avoid special actions for
ownership claims. It would, of course, be highly disadvantageous for Vera if only Ursula
could take action to evict Winona. Manchester Airport plc v Dutton10 involves a some-
what controversial extension of this principle. The licensee had not yet gone into
occupation, but was still allowed an order to evict intruders.
10
[2000] QB 133 (Chadwick LJ dissenting as there was no right to exclusive possession).
226
Nuisance is the remedy generally employed for complaining about activities of neigh-
bours (an example would be unacceptably noisy parties). It is quite clear that licensees,
even if living on the land, cannot normally sue in nuisance: the owner (or tenant) is
the most appropriate person to take action. This was authoritatively confirmed in a well-
known decision of the House of Lords: Hunter v Canary Wharf Ltd.11 Licensees living with
the owner in homes near Canary Wharf Tower were unable to sue for interference with
television signals caused by the Tower. However, dicta in Hunter indicate that licensees
could sue if in exclusive possession. In that situation, there would be no immediate
interference with use by the owner.
These remedies demonstrate a somewhat hybrid status for licences. Although they do
not enjoy the range of remedies normally available for proprietary interests, trespass and
(probably) nuisance may be available in some cases. However, licences that do not confer
occupation (an example would be a right to use boats on a landowner’s lake) probably 15
receive no such protection: these licensees have to look to the licensor to take action
Licences
against anyone who interferes with them.

● Constructive trusts
When will there be a constructive trust?
Graham enters into a contractual licence with his friend Harry, allowing him to occupy
a house as long as he wishes (the indefinite duration precludes a lease). The house is
one of a group of five that Graham sells to Inga. Graham wants to ensure that Harry can
continue to live there and Inga orally accepts this. The purchase price of £1.5 million for
the five houses is reduced to £1.4 million in return for Inga’s agreeing to allow Harry to
occupy his house.
It would look wrong for Inga to be able to reject the agreement and evict Harry. She
has benefited from a reduced purchase price and made a clear promise in favour of Harry.
One solution is to apply the Contracts (Rights of Third Parties) Act 1999 to allow an action
in contract, despite absence of privity as between Inga and Harry. However, an oral agree-
ment may not survive the statutory writing requirements for sales of land. Another
approach is to say that there is a constructive trust to avoid such unfair and uncon-
scionable conduct by Inga, for which lack of writing would not matter.
In Binions v Evans,12 employers had given an employee’s widow a contractual licence
over a cottage. The purchaser bought the cottage subject to her licence, paying less as
a result. Lord Denning MR held the purchaser bound by a constructive trust; this is the
origin of the recent cases in this area. One important point to note is that the construc-
tive trust is not an example of existing interest binding a purchaser; it exists because the
purchaser has undertaken a new obligation. There is no reason why it cannot apply to a
11
[1997] AC 655 (Lord Cooke dissented).
12
[1972] Ch 359.
227
bare licence (a licence not linked to a contract or separate proprietary interest) just as
much as to a contractual licence. An example would be if Harry (or the employee in
Binions) had been permitted to live on the land free.
What sort of promises suffice to give rise to a constructive trust? Take the following
example. Malcolm gives his friend Naomi a bare licence to store building materials on a
vacant plot. In sudden need of money, Malcolm agrees to sell the land to his neighbour
Olga, who really wants it. Though she has no right to stay, Naomi refuses to move her
building materials immediately. Normally a licensor such as Malcolm will evict Naomi
before selling, but the tight schedule renders this impossible. The land is worth £4 million
with vacant possession. If Naomi had a right to remain, the land would be worth £3 million.
In negotiating the sale, both Malcolm and Olga believe that Naomi has no right, though
there is a faint possibility that she might be able to assert an estoppel (discussed below).
Malcolm wants to get as much money as he can, while Olga wants to pay as little as
possible. They settle on a sale price of £3.5 million and Olga buys the land ‘subject to’
Naomi’s licence.
Does this ‘subject to’ purchase give rise to a constructive trust? That question was
raised in Ashburn Anstalt, where a purchaser bought subject to a licence. The Court of
Appeal was clear that such wording is not by itself enough to give rise to a constructive
trust: it is necessary that the purchaser should agree to give effect to the licence. It is clear
that neither Malcolm nor Olga want Naomi’s right to continue. Indeed, if Naomi’s right
were binding, £3.5 million would have been a very generous amount to pay. So why did
Olga purchase subject to the licence? The reason is that Malcolm wants to protect
himself against Olga making any future complaint that Naomi is there. Essentially, Olga
is paying half a million pounds less for the land because she is taking the slender risk of
there being problems in evicting Naomi. In all probability she gets a very good deal; she
cannot complain in the unlikely event that those risks materialise. In Ashburn Anstalt
itself, the promise was held to be intended to protect the licensor/seller rather than the
licensee. Indeed, this is the standard construction of ‘subject to’ promises.
The example involving Olga shows that it is not enough to show that the purchase
price is reduced: this is explained by the purchaser taking a risk. No sane purchaser would
pay the full price for land without obtaining vacant possession. Of course, the scale of
the reduction may point to the purchaser having promised to be bound. Nor is it essen-
tial that there be any reduction in price. It is sufficient if the seller makes it clear that a
sale will be agreed only if the licence is given effect to.13
Everything therefore depends on the facts of the individual case. Apparently powerful
factors, such as buying subject to a claim and paying less for the land, can be explained
away very easily. A constructive trust most obviously arises when the licensor really wants
the licence to continue and makes this a condition of the sale.
Even where there is a promise to give effect to a licence, this may not be conclusive.
The problem arises when the licensor wants the purchaser to comply with the licence,
but only to protect himself against liability to the licensee. This is most likely to apply to
13
Lyus v Prowsa Developments Ltd [1982] 1 WLR 1044 (purchaser giving effect to estate contract, rather
than licence).
228
contractual licences: if the purchaser evicts the licensee, the licensor may be liable in
damages to the licensee for breach of contract. Though the licensor couldn’t care less
about the licensee, the licensee benefits if the purchaser complies with the licence.
In summary, the licensor does want the licence to be complied with, but not with the
motive of benefiting the licensee.
This promise would not seem to give rise to liability to the licensee under the Contracts
(Rights of Third Parties) Act 1999. It might be regarded as odd if the constructive trust
were to produce wider liability than the 1999 Act. Unconscionability may be difficult to
argue when the real point behind the promise relates to the financial position of the
seller: contractual damages payable by the purchaser to the seller are an adequate
remedy.
The nature of the constructive trust 15

Let us return to the example concerning Inga and Harry, where it was concluded that
Inga held on a constructive trust to give effect to Harry’s licence. Suppose that a year later
Licences
(Harry still living in the house) Inga borrows money from Jeremy and mortgages the five
houses to him as security. Is Jeremy bound by Harry’s licence? It may be noted that Harry
is in actual occupation and so Jeremy cannot rely on land registration principles to defeat
his claim.
This is a very uncertain area, with two alternative analyses possible. The first is that
the constructive trust constitutes a normal proprietary interest, just like a constructive
trust where there are contributions to a purchase of a family home. The family home
trust certainly binds purchasers such as Jeremy. The second is that the constructive trust
represents a purely personal obligation, incapable of binding Jeremy (unless he enters
into a fresh promise to give effect to the licence, which would give rise to a second con-
structive trust).
There is no clear authority. This sort of situation arose in Chattey v Farndale Holdings
Inc,14 where the Court of Appeal held a purchaser not to be bound. However, the bene-
ficiary under the trust was not in actual occupation. It is unclear whether the beneficiary
failed because the trust was incapable of binding a purchaser or because it was neither
protected on the register nor an overriding interest.
Although we normally think of trusts as binding purchasers, it is far from clear that this
is true of all constructive trusts; some can be seen more as remedies than as proprietary
institutions. This is especially important when it is a licence that is protected by the trust.
If a licensor (Graham) promises to give effect to a licence by contract, Ashburn Anstalt
demonstrates that this is incapable of binding purchasers. It would be very odd if a similar
promise by a purchaser (Inga) were to have a stronger effect in that it would bind future
purchasers (Jeremy). It is true that only Inga’s promise gives rise to a trust, but this
underplays the underlying similarity between the promises.
Indeed, one may ask whether it is possible to have a trust of a proprietary nature to
give effect to a non-proprietary interest such as a licence. It would indeed be strange if
a licence could be elevated to the status of a right binding purchasers by the simple
14
(1996) 75 P&CR 298 at pp. 313–17 (trust to give effect to an estate contract, rather than a licence).
229
expedient of creating a trust. Suppose Graham and Harry, at the time a licence is created,
both want it to bind purchasers. Could they achieve that objective by the simple
expedient of adding a term to the contract whereby Graham agrees to hold the house
on trust for Harry, so as to give effect to the licence?
Every instinct is against recognising such a trust: it would make a mockery of attempts
to limit the range of proprietary interests. Yet matters are not quite so simple. A trust of
land to give effect to a licence may be seen as analogous to a trust of land for the pur-
pose of (for example) educating somebody. The latter trust is recognised. Nevertheless,
it may be thought that a trust to give effect to a licence goes too far and should not be
recognised.
● Licences protected by estoppel

The role of the licence in estoppel claims
We saw in Chapter 8 that a claim based on estoppel may be brought where a person has
relied to their detriment on a representation or assumption. No more will be said about
the circumstances in which estoppels arise; we will concentrate on their significance for
licences.
One early case on estoppel is Dillwyn v Llewelyn,15 in which there was a claim to a fee
simple. A father made a gift of land to his son, but it was ineffective as he failed to use
the necessary formalities. As intended, the son built a house on the land. The court found
an estoppel and ordered that the fee simple should be transferred to the son. A licence
might be thought to be involved because the son had no more than a licence before the
estoppel arose. However, the licence seems completely irrelevant to the claim. It was a
claim to a fee simple which was satisfied by a transfer of the fee simple. Suppose the son
had previously been a tenant of the land. There would never have been a licence, but the
estoppel claim would have operated in precisely the same way.
When do licences form a significant component of an estoppel claim? Two types of
case, neither of them common, are now considered. The first is where the representation
(or assumption) is of a licence. A statement that the claimant ‘can stay as long they wish’
or ‘until they get a job’ provides an example. These rights do not look like a fee simple
or life interest and there is no fixed term as required for a lease.
The second type of case is where a court gives a licence as a remedy. This may apply
whether or not the representation is of a licence. Perhaps the best example is provided
by the analysis in Pascoe v Turner.16 Following the breakdown of a relationship between
the parties, the defendant was told by her former lover that a house was hers: a repre-
sentation of the fee simple. She spent a significant part of her savings (not a large sum)
on the house, whereupon an estoppel arose. The Court of Appeal initially inclined to the
view that a licence simply allowing her to remain in the house would be the most appro-
priate remedy, given the relatively small expenditure. However, her lover’s hostile and
15
(1862) 4 De GF&J 517 (45 ER 1285).
16
[1979] 1 WLR 431.
230
ruthless conduct persuaded the court that she should be awarded the fee simple. Despite
the final result, the case shows how a licence might be the appropriate remedy.
Estoppel licences as proprietary interests

The analysis above is uncontroversial: it represents a working out of estoppel principles
in the licences context. More troublesome has been the question whether estoppel
licences can affect purchasers, in the two types of case just identified. The licensee is
usually in actual occupation, so the claim is unlikely to encounter registration problems.
Prior to the Land Registration Act 2002, the answer to that question was unclear and
attracted a fair amount of attention from commentators. It was conventional to draw a
distinction between the position before the remedy (often called ‘inchoate equities’) and
after the remedy. Before the remedy, most cases seemed to recognise that purchasers
could be bound, though there were few cases and the position was never firmly settled. 15
Once a court had decided there was a licence as a remedy, then most lawyers considered
Licences
that purchasers would not be bound, though there was very little authority. The thinking
was that a licence ordered by the court had no better entitlement to proprietary status
than a contractual licence agreed by the parties.
How could the law justify proprietary status at the inchoate stage? The only credible
answer could be that estoppels protect a wide range of claims, both of a proprietary and
non-proprietary nature. As illustrated by Pascoe, the extent of the court discretion is such
that one cannot know in advance what the remedy will be. Accordingly, we cannot say
that it is a licence (or fee simple or whatever else is represented) that binds a purchaser:
nobody knows what remedy the court will order. Instead, we have to say that it is the
estoppel claim – the right to go to court and seek a remedy – that binds the purchaser.
That analysis is open to criticism. To describe an estoppel claim as a proprietary right
(even if the cases say this) is rather like saying a contract is a proprietary right. The latter
is patently not the case. A contract for a legal estate is proprietary (an estate contract),
but not a contract for a licence. The estoppel suffers from the further problem that the
uncertainty as to the remedy may be thought to make it even less suitable for proprietary
status than are contracts. It is all very puzzling.
Against that background, the Law Commission set out to clarify the law. Their intention
was to confirm that inchoate estoppels do bind purchasers and that this does not apply
to the licence ordered as a remedy.17 Accordingly, section 116 of the Land Registration
Act 2002 declares that ‘an equity by estoppel . . . has effect from the time the equity
arises as an interest capable of binding successors in title’. This seems to settle the ques-
tion for the future, at least for registered titles (over 90 per cent of titles).
Nevertheless, McFarlane18 has argued that we should not distinguish between
inchoate equities and those where a remedy has been granted. He argues that estoppel
licences should never affect successors in title; the same would be true of other non-
proprietary remedies such as payment of money. There is something to be said for this
view, especially as it mirrors the approach we take for contracts. On the other hand, it
17
Law Com No 271, paras 5.4, 5.29–31.
18
[2003] CLJ 661.
231
fails to recognise the extent of the discretion exercised by the courts in estoppel claims.
In practice, the court would be put in an almost impossibly difficult position in deciding
what remedy to give. If it is thought that a purchaser deserves to be bound, how could
a court fail to be influenced by the knowledge that this could be achieved only by grant-
ing a proprietary remedy? In any event, it is almost impossible to square with the word-
ing of section 116 and flies in the face of what the section was intended to achieve.
Relationship with contractual licences

We have seen that estoppel licences probably bind purchasers, at least before the court
gives a remedy. How can we justify the contrast with contractual licences, which do not
bind purchasers?
The question is especially difficult because the dividing line between contract and
estoppel can be a very fine one. If the licensor requests the licensee to do something (put
a house in good repair, for example), this will constitute consideration and give rise to
a contractual licence. If the licensee does such acts without being asked, then there will
be an estoppel licence. How can it make sense for only the second example to bind a
purchaser? It should be remembered, however, that contractual consideration does
not always constitute detriment for estoppel. Thus a promise to do something is consider-
ation, but not detriment for estoppel. For estoppel, the act has actually to be done.
Probably the best way of justifying a distinction is to recognise that we are dealing
with estoppels rather than licence claims. Estoppel claims include proprietary as well as
non-proprietary interests; at the inchoate stage we cannot be sure what remedy may be
given. This is true even where a licence is promised: the court might decide that a short
lease is the most appropriate remedy. Accordingly, it is not really the case that we are
enforcing estoppel licences. Rather, we are enforcing estoppels in situations in which a
licence might be awarded. Further, it may be argued that the discretion in the remedy
may, despite the uncertainty it involves, enhance the case for proprietary status. We are
fearful that, if contractual licences were to bind purchasers, the parties could establish
novel and very varied proprietary interests. This is less of a problem with estoppel
licences, as the court can simply decline to give the remedy claimed. The court’s control
over the remedy means that there is less risk of the range of proprietary interests
spiralling out of control.
A rather different point concerns the overlap between contractual and estoppel
licences, an area little touched upon in the cases. Suppose Robin contracts with Susan
that she can live in a house until she finds a job, paying £20 a week. This is a contractual
licence. Susan spends £1,000 in improving the house on the basis of her being likely to
live there for some time. This would seem a fairly clear case of estoppel, even though it
originates out of a contractual situation. It would be important if Robin were later to
mortgage the house to Tara, who claims not to be bound by the licence.
Would it make any difference if the agreement between Robin and Susan specified the
consideration as being the repairs (instead of paying £20 a week)? Would the carrying
out of repairs convert this contractual licence into an estoppel binding on successors in
title? Here the detriment is the same as the contractual consideration. It is an important
point as many contractual licences might be made binding on this basis. Indeed, the
232
overlap seems to be accepted by the Court of Appeal in Ashburn Anstalt. They observed
that the contractual licence in Errington might have been properly enforceable against
the successor in title by way of estoppel. Yet the overlap is little discussed in the cases.
The discretionary nature of the remedy in estoppel has a further effect. In many cases,
the consideration/detriment may be quite small and no estoppel remedy appropriate.
Payment by Susan of £20 per week might possibly be detriment, but at most it would
justify one week’s occupation.
We may conclude that there are ways in which we can justify the contrast in the pro-
prietary effects of estoppel and contractual licences. However, the outcomes for the types
of licences do provide some inconsistency and it may be argued that further developments
are needed.
15
Licences
233
16 Easements

n this chapter, we consider easements and profits. Both these interests involve limited
I rights over another person’s land: the most obvious example is a right of way. If my land
is next to a road, then access is not a problem. However, sometimes there is other land
between my land and the road or I may want alternative access to my land. In these
cases, a right of way is essential. Unlike estates, easements and profits confer no general
right to enjoy land – they are exercised over somebody else’s land.
Easements can be as varied as rights of way, rights to pass water through pipes, rights
to store and rights to use a garden. A particular feature of easements is that they can exist
only if other land is benefited. This is obviously the case for the right of way described
above – the access benefits my land. Other situations may fall foul of the requirement.
Suppose I want to be able to park my car near the office where I work. I might agree with
the owner of nearby land that I can park my car there. The right to park cars can con-
stitute an easement. However, unless I own the office where I work, my right can exist
only as a contractual licence (not proprietary in nature).
Profits can be more invasive: they give a right to take something from the land. They
cover rights as diverse as grazing rights and rights to fish. Like easements, they can exist
for the benefit of other land (profits appurtenant). Unlike easements, however, they may
also benefit a person personally (profits in gross). A right to fish, for example, need not
involve any benefited land. It might be thought that profits in gross are much more
beneficial, especially as the use is not limited to the needs of the land. However, it can be
more difficult to create profits in gross and their benefit has to be transferred expressly.
If the holder of a profit in gross does in fact own adjoining land and sells that land, the
benefit passes to the purchaser only if the profit is expressly assigned. In contrast, profits
appurtenant will pass automatically to a new owner of the benefited land.
Why do we require benefited land for easements, but not for profits? With profits, it
may be said that we are dividing ownership by content (A has fishing rights, while B has
the remaining general ownership rights) rather than by time. Dividing by time is the role
of freehold estates and leases.
In theory, the same could be argued as regards easements. However, rights to use
another’s land are most commonly encountered in the context of two adjoining landowners.
234
Where there is no benefited land, the use right may be regarded as insufficiently
important to be worth elevating to proprietary status. We have seen that English law
recognises a limited range of proprietary interests. The objective is to provide a balance
between the benefits of flexibility on one side and the need not to overburden land with
ill-defined rights on the other. The easement and profit rules illustrate how that balance
is currently worked out.
A legal system which did not recognise easements would be seriously defective.
Efficient land management often requires rights over another person’s land. Without a
right of way or contractually negotiated access, land-locked plots of land would be use-
less unless the owner has a helicopter! Especially in a crowded urban environment, I may
need to have a right to run drains under a neighbour’s land to a sewer or a right to run
pipes or cables across a neighbour’s land. With all these examples, it would not be enough
to have merely a contractual right. If the burdened land were sold, then the new owner 16
would not be bound. Not every easement is as critical to land management, but the
Easements
category clearly deserves its proprietary status. Evidence of their importance is that
easements were early accepted by Roman Law (called praedial servitudes).
Profits are, perhaps, less essential. Though they may be very useful to benefited land
on occasion, it may be thought that land management could be efficiently carried out
without them. Nevertheless, it has been observed that they permit a useful functional
division of land ownership. They are long-established rights and appear to cause relatively
few problems.
This chapter concentrates upon two major areas: what can be an easement or profit
and how they are created. One topic from each area is considered under ‘Critical and
controversial issues’. The first is when easement claims fail because they are too close to
a claim to possession. The second is as to when easements can be implied on the sale
of land. A particular feature of easements is that the courts have developed generous
implication rules. It may be added that easements are presently being reviewed by the
Law Commission:1 a report is expected in 2010. Although virtually all the issues in this
chapter are discussed, the most significant reforms are likely to be in the area of creation
of easements.

● What can be an easement or profit?
Profits have given rise to few problems: standard examples include rights to graze
animals and to fish. Easements cover a wider range of possible rights and have caused
greater difficulty; the rest of this section is devoted to easements. Much of what follows
makes most sense when we remember two related factors. First, we have to distinguish
rights that benefit individuals from rights that benefit land – a consequence of requiring
benefited land. Second, easements are to be contrasted with ownership (or leases). If the
1
Law Com CP 186.
235
rights in question are most accurately considered as ownership, then an easement is

not appropriate. Quite different rules apply to easements and ownership. For example,
easements (unlike ownership) are frequently implied.
General requirements
The requirements for easements have long been treated as having been laid down by
Evershed MR in Re Ellenborough Park:2
(1) there must be a dominant and a servient tenement: (2) an easement must ‘accommodate’
the dominant tenement: (3) dominant and servient owners must be different persons, and (4)
a right over land cannot amount to an easement, unless it is capable of forming the subject-
matter of a grant.
The first requirement establishes the need, already mentioned, for there to be benefited
(‘dominant’) land. The second requirement stresses that there must be benefit for the
dominant land, not merely a benefit for the owner of it. Take this example. Mary owns a
large open space in Manchester. Manchester United wish to purchase this as a training
ground. As part of the deal, Mary negotiates for her house close to Old Trafford (the
club’s main ground) to have a free right of entry for two persons for every match at Old
Trafford. Doubtless this would be a very valuable right: the value of the house would be
increased substantially. However, it cannot be said to accommodate the house: it doesn’t
make it a better or more useful house. The benefit is purely for the owner of the house
and it is not an easement.
Does this second requirement cause problems for rights that benefit businesses on the
dominant land? The law has never taken such a restrictive approach. A right of way to
allow access for business customers is very readily accepted. A right of way is, perhaps,
the most obvious example of an easement. More interesting is the recognition in Moody
v Steggles3 of a right to an advertising sign for a public house. Unlike a right of way, the
very essence of an advertisement relates to business. The public house in Moody was
set back from the road; the sign was affixed to an adjoining house. The sign should be
reasonably close to the benefited land: advertising a hotel five miles away would not
suffice. Moody illustrates the ability of the law to develop new examples of easements,
provided that they comply with underlying easement principles.
A well-known case on the other side of the line is Hill v Tupper,4 in which the owner
of a small area of land next to a canal claimed a right to put boats on the canal as an
easement. In this case the putting of boats on the canal was the business; it was too
commercial a claim to be recognised as an easement. By contrast, if the claimant had
owned a hotel next to the canal then a right to put boats on the canal would have been
beneficial to the hotel. Another aspect of the claim in Hill v Tupper merits attention. The
claimant sought to stop others from putting boats on the canal. An easement is a right
to do something, not a right to prevent exploitation of the land by others – at least where
2
[1956] Ch 131 at p. 163.
3
(1879) 12 Ch D 261.
4
(1863) 2 H&C 121 (159 ER 151).
236
the right is compatible with use by others. Such a claim to exclusivity smacks more of
ownership.
Returning to the Re Ellenborough Park requirements, the third requires the two plots
of land to have separate owners: one cannot have an easement over one’s own land.
However, the requirement is not quite as strict as it might appear. A tenant can have an
easement over the landlord’s adjoining land, though both plots are owned by the landlord.
Separate ownership is not insisted upon so long as different persons have estates (the
lease, for example) in the two plots.
What of the fourth requirement, ‘capable of forming the subject-matter of a grant’?
This sounds like a circular proposition: a right is an easement if it is recognised as an
easement. The cases show that very many rights have been recognised – rights as varied
as putting up a clothes-line, storing items, allowing projections over the burdened land
and use of a toilet. Furthermore, Moody v Steggles illustrates that there is no rule that 16
novel rights are not permitted. The fourth requirement was discussed in Re Ellenborough
Easements
Park in the context of a claim to use a communal garden. It had been thought that a
right to wander around another’s land (the ius spatiendi ) could not be an easement. The
Court of Appeal, however, upheld the claim. Although several non-qualifying rights (claims
to a view, to privacy and to a natural flow of air) have been held too uncertain to be
easements, the right to use the garden was defined with sufficient certainty. Especially
significant is that houses commonly have gardens. The right provided the house, there-
fore, with an attribute associated with houses. This made it more than a simple claim to
recreation or amusement. Could a right to use a neighbour’s hot tub be an easement?
This probably falls on the other side of the line – it looks more like a personal benefit.
Additional requirements
Three further requirements are commonly added to those stated by Evershed MR.
No claim to possession
This has caused a good deal of difficulty, though rights of storage have long been
recognised as easements. This requirement is considered below, under ‘Critical and con-
troversial issues’.
The right normally must confer positive rights

We regard easements as rights to do something on a neighbour’s land rather than rights
to stop a neighbour from doing something. The latter type of right is a restrictive
covenant. Without this requirement, the two categories of interests would overlap. The
reasons for having separate categories are discussed in Chapter 17. Suffice to say now
that some have argued that a single legal regime should cover both rights – they share
the characteristic that land is benefited by a right over neighbouring land.
The leading case on the requirement is Phipps v Pears.5 Two houses had been built close
together, so that each sheltered the other from wind and rain penetration. The owner of
one claimed a right to stop the neighbour from pulling down a wall so as to open the
claimant’s wall to the elements. This was held not to be an easement. Lord Denning MR
5
[1965] 1 QB 76.
237
explained that recognising such an easement ‘would unduly restrict your neighbour in
his enjoyment of his own land [and] hamper legitimate development’. A restrictive
covenant might be thought to carry some of the same risks, but restrictive covenants
have to be expressly created – in Phipps, the claim was to an implied easement.
Restrictive covenants have been recognised as proprietary interests only since the mid-
nineteenth century. Before that time, some negative easements had been recognised.
The right to light is phrased in positive language, but the substance of the right is to pre-
vent a neighbour from building so as to block the light. The right to light is well estab-
lished, though it is somewhat anomalous and subject to the criticism that it sometimes
hampers legitimate development.
The easement of support has also been viewed as negative. It prevents a neighbour
from withdrawing support, which is necessary to stop the collapse of the claimant’s land
or buildings. It has some positive content in that the claimant’s land is pressing on the
burdened land.
Rights to light and support have caused difficulty for prescription: the principle
(considered later in this chapter) whereby easements can be acquired by long use. A
particular difficulty is that prescription is generally thought to be based on acquiescence:
the owner of the burdened land acquiesces in the use made of it. Dalton v Angus & Co6
involved a prescription claim to a right of support. How can there be said to be acquies-
cence when there is no practical way not to accept the pressing on the land (support)?
Nevertheless, the House of Lords recognised prescription of rights to support. Similarly,
the owner of the burdened land cannot stop the exercise of rights to light, save by put-
ting up hoardings to block light. Such extreme and anti-social activity has been rendered
unnecessary by legislation7 whereby registering a notice stops time running towards the
20 years required for prescription. It applies only to rights of light.
What conclusions should be reached? Though there are good reasons for treating
negative rights as restrictive covenants,8 the distinction between positive and negative
rights is not easily drawn. The fact that some negative easements are recognised makes
it virtually impossible to bring coherence to the area.
No positive obligation on the servient owner

We can now turn to the third additional requirement for easements. Although an ease-
ment must normally be positive in the sense that it must enable the holder to do some-
thing, it cannot be positive in the sense of requiring the owner of the burdened land to
do anything. There is a semantic trap here in the dual use of the word ‘positive’. Positive
rights are recognised (indeed, usually required); positive obligations are not. This require-
ment mirrors the principle that positive covenants are not proprietary.9 There is an excep-
tion for easements to fence.10 This is anomalous, but it provides useful certainty (especially
for farmers) as to who is responsible for the maintenance of fences.
6
(1881) 6 App Cas 740.
7
Rights of Light Act 1959.
8
Discussed in Chapter 17, pp. 270–1, below.
9
Confirmed by the House of Lords in Rhone v Stephens [1994] 2 AC 310; see pp. 264, 268, below.
10
Crow v Wood [1971] 1 QB 77.
238
Usually, it will be clear when a right is positive – the test is whether the right requires
any form of activity or expenditure. However, suppose that there is a right to a supply of
water or electricity. Water and electricity flow through pipes and cables without the
servient owner having to do anything. However, their use by the benefited land owner
may result in the burdened land owner, through whose meter they flow, having to pay
the water or electricity supplier. In Rance v Elvin,11 the Court of Appeal accepted the right
to water as an easement, characterising it as an obligation not to interfere with the flow
of water. Even though the servient owner may have to pay the water supplier, no obliga-
tion is owed to the benefited land to pay. If payment is not made and the supply is cut
off as a result, the holder of the easement cannot object. In practice, there will usually be
a single supply for both the benefited and burdened plots; the burdened owner will have
no choice but to pay in order to continue to have a water supply. However, there is a
right to recoup the cost from the owner of the benefited land. The result is convenient, 16
even if it stretches the principles a little.
Easements
It is not clear how far the Rance principle extends. Recently, Lord Scott stated12 that
the right to use a swimming pool might fail because of the expenditure required to
maintain the pool. The possibility of using a Rance analysis (a right so long as the pool
was usable) was not explored.
● Creation of easements
Nothing need be said regarding express creation, save that registration is required for
legal status (for registered titles).
Implied easements
Easements and profits are readily implied when land is sold. Even though both contract
and conveyance may be silent, it is quite possible that a purchaser will acquire, for example,
a right of way over the seller’s adjoining land. The rules have given rise to complexity and
controversy and are considered below under ‘Critical and controversial issues’.
Prescription
Easements and profits can arise from long use. This may be thought to be somewhat
similar to adverse possession rules, whereby ownership could be gained by 12 years’
adverse possession of the land. However, the two doctrines operate very differently, so
the comparison cannot be pushed too far. We will consider the material under three
headings: the forms of prescription, the nature of the use that suffices for prescription
and the application of prescription to leases.
Forms of prescription
The law in this area is complex and archaic. Prescription has been recognised for
centuries: common law prescription operates where the use has taken place since 1189,
11
(1985) 50 P&CR 9; applied to electricity in Duffy v Lamb (1997) 75 P&CR 364.
12
Moncrieff v Jamieson [2007] 1 WLR 2620 at [47].
239
the origin of legal memory. This is satisfied by proving use for 20 years (not necessarily
the last 20 years). Nevertheless, a claim will fail if the right could not have existed as far
back as 1189. This is likely as regards rights that benefit buildings. If the first building
on the land was known to have been built no earlier than, say, 1850 then common law
prescription will fail. Use for over 150 years will not suffice.
Statutory prescription under the Prescription Act 1832 was designed to avoid these
problems, by concentrating on use for the immediate past 20 years. This will cover many
cases, but problems remain. Many disputes arise after the owner of the servient land
has prevented the exercise of the right. This does not bar reliance on the Act if legal
proceedings are brought within a year of the interruption of the use. However, section 4
provides that longer interruptions are fatal if the interruption has been ‘submitted to or
acquiesced in’. Prescription operated despite a 13-month interruption in Davies v Du Paver,13
but only because: ‘The parties were breathing fury on each side of a newly erected fence.’
The defects with common law prescription led to the emergence of the curious fiction
of lost modern grant. Because interruptions exceeding a year can prevent statutory
prescription, the fiction has been readily applied in recent cases. If there has been use for
20 years, then the courts are prepared to presume that an easement has been granted,
but that the deed of grant has been lost. Any 20 years will suffice – it need not be the
last 20 years. Nobody any longer pretends that there was in fact a grant – it is a fiction
and it is no answer to argue that there was not in fact any grant. Lost modern grant also
applies to registered land, despite deeds not being effective without registration.
The nature of the use

It is said that the use must be ‘as of right’ – meaning that it must be the type of use that one
would expect if there were already an easement. In particular, it must not be by force,
stealth or permission (sometimes expressed in Latin as nec vi, nec clam, nec precario). Save
for permission, these principles are different from those applying to adverse possession.
It is generally thought that prescription is based on ideas of acquiescence on the part
of the owner of the burdened land; use as of right can be seen as spelling this out. In
Sturges v Bridgeman,14 the defendant was a confectioner whose work involved pound-
ing sugar. The noise caused no interference with the claimant’s use of the adjoining land.
There was therefore nothing the claimant could complain about; accordingly, he could
not be said to acquiesce in the noise. When the claimant later built on his land close to
the defendant’s activities, the noise became a problem and the claimant sued in the tort
of nuisance. Because there was no earlier acquiescence, the defendant had not acquired
a prescriptive right to carry on his noisy activities.
The stress on acquiescence may make prescription look like estoppel, but there are
many differences. Unlike estoppel, prescription does not require detriment. On the other
hand, it does require an extended period of use.
The meaning of permission has caused problems where the servient owner tolerates
the use. Quite frequently, the owner of the burdened land is not (for the time being)
13
[1953] 1 QB 184.
14
(1879) 11 Ch D 852.
240
inconvenienced by the use and so does not object to it. At one stage, this was thought
to defeat prescription. There is some sense in this: why should the law condemn neigh-
bourly conduct of an owner who does not object to a use which causes him or her no
harm or inconvenience? Nevertheless, the courts have rejected this extension of permis-
sion. Indeed, it is difficult to think of situations where there isn’t toleration of a use, unless
that use is by force or stealth.
Prescription and leases

Prescription operates only to create easements that can last for ever (equivalent to a fee
simple estate). It follows that there cannot be prescription of an interest that will last for
the duration of a lease. It should be stressed that an easement can be created (expressly
or by implication) for the duration of a lease. Indeed, it is common for the tenant to enjoy
an easement over the landlord’s adjoining land. It is only prescription that poses problems. 16
So far as the benefit is concerned, prescription normally operates so that a tenant
acquires the easement on behalf of the fee simple: no problem then exists. However, if
Easements
the servient land is leased, then virtually every prescription claim hits a barrier. Prescrip-
tion cannot operate against the lease alone, as the resulting right would be of limited
duration. Nor can the prescription be effective against the fee simple. That would require
acquiescence by the fee simple holder, which can virtually never be shown.
It is understandable that there is no prescription against the fee simple. However, the
denial of prescription as against the lease (which could be a lease for 999 years) demon-
strates unnecessary technicality and inflexibility.
Is prescription justified?
The complexity and oddity of many of these rules has led to doubts as to whether we
should ever recognise prescription. In particular, the rejection of the toleration analysis
has disadvantaged owners who do not object to presently harmless activities. It was seen
in Chapter 6 that the comparable area of adverse possession has been much reduced in
scope. It may be thought that there are weaker reasons for recognising prescription than
for allowing adverse possession, so that prescription should cease to operate. However,
the Law Commission considers that the benefits of recognising long-standing activities
and facilitating efficient land use justify retention of prescription, though with simplified
rules (especially regarding the forms of prescription).
● The extent of the easement

Changes in use
There is much litigation concerning the extent of easements, for example whether a right
of way includes use by heavy lorries. This is generally a matter of construction; it raises
few points of general interest.
What happens if a right becomes more onerous because the use of the land changes,
perhaps from a large single home to a hotel? Express easements normally continue
despite such changes. However, a less generous approach is taken as regards easements
arising from implication or prescription. These are taken to be governed by the circum-
stances at the time the easement is created.
241
A significant change of use will terminate an implied or prescriptive easement, but

only where there is a substantial increase in use. McAdams Homes Ltd v Robinson15
illustrates this for rights of foul water drainage. A bakery was changed into two houses,
resulting in significantly more foul water (from toilets, baths, washing machines, etc.).
Accordingly, the drainage right terminated. In contrast, rights of surface drainage (from
rain) will vary little with a change of use and will be unaffected thereby.
Use for other land

An easement can be used only for the benefit of the dominant land. Suppose that there
is a right of way to a house. The owner of the house buys land at the back of it and builds
an extra house there. Access to the new house is through the grounds of the original house.
It is quite clear that the right of way cannot be used to gain access to the new house:
it was created for access to the old house, not the new house on separate land. This
has been clear at least since Harris v Flower.16 A factory had been built partly on the
dominant land (with the benefit of a right of way) and partly on other land. The court
held that the right of way could not be used for access to the other land. Unlike the prin-
ciples regarding change of use, this rule applies whether or not the easement is express.
The operation of the rule is not always clear-cut. The owner of the dominant land may
purchase additional land which is incorporated into the original plot, perhaps as an
extended garden. In those circumstances, it will often be realistic to say that access is to
the original plot rather than to the extended area. However, this can lead to difficult
questions. If the owner of the dominant land purchases an additional area which is used
as a garage, can she drive her car through the dominant land to the garage? Though it
seems plausible to argue that the garage is merely ancillary to the house, Das v Linden
Mews Ltd 17 denied such use.
The Law Commission would abolish the Harris v Flower principle and replace it with
a test based on McAdams – whether there is a substantial increase in use.
● Termination of easements
Easements can be terminated by agreement. They will also end automatically if both
dominant and servient plots are owned by the same person. This is natural: one cannot
have an easement over one’s own land. How does this apply if there is a lease? Suppose
Richard has a right of way over Sarah’s land. Richard leases the benefited land to Timothy
for ten years and soon afterwards buys Sarah’s land. Although Richard now owns both
dominant and servient plots, this does not affect Timothy’s right to the easement
(remember that a tenant can have an easement over the landlord’s adjoining land).
Abandonment is more interesting. Just as easements can be gained by long use,
they can be lost by long periods of non-use. However, abandonment is difficult to prove.
One problem is that even very lengthy non-use may not indicate a wish to abandon a
right. Take an example where Graham has alternative rights of access over the lands
15
[2005] 1 P&CR 520.
16
(1904) 74 LJ Ch 127.
17
[2003] 2 P&CR 58.
242
of Harriet (the ‘Harriet access’) and Ivor (the ‘Ivor access’). Access over Harriet’s land
is the more convenient and is the only access that Graham uses. This does not mean
that Graham regards the Ivor access as irrelevant. Graham might contemplate building
in the future, which would block the Harriet access. In that event, the Ivor access would
become essential. Failure to use the Ivor access for decades (perhaps even centuries)
proves nothing.
Two factors seem to be important in recognising abandonment. First, if the owner of
the servient land has openly acted to their detriment on the basis that the easement
doesn’t exist, then it is likely that the easement will fail. An example would be building
on the route of a right of way. This situation looks very similar to estoppel. Indeed, estoppel
can be used to explain all successful claims to abandonment, though not all the cases
employ the language of estoppel. The second factor is the pulling down (without replace-
ment) of a building enjoying an easement. It is illustrated by Moore v Rawson,18 in which 16
the easement was a right to light for a building. That building was pulled down and
Easements
replaced by one without windows. Seventeen years later, it was held that the easement
had been abandoned. However, it may have been very material (the judges do not express
a uniform view) that the servient owner had subsequently built so as to block light.
One thing is clear, however: there is no set period that can be relied upon as giving
rise to abandonment. It all depends on the facts.

We will discuss two areas. The first is the principle that a claim to an easement fails if it
amounts to a right to possession. The second area relates to the creation of easements.
When will an easement be implied?
● Possession claims
If the claim is, in essence, to possession of the land, then it cannot be an easement. It is
more appropriate that it should be a fee simple, life interest or lease. The rejection of pos-
session claims assists in distinguishing between estates and easements, though the cases
are rarely expressed in these terms.
The seminal case is Copeland v Greenhalf.19 The defendant had a business as a wheel-
wright. He used part of the plaintiff’s land (a strip 150 feet long and between 15 and
35 feet wide) to store lorries and other vehicles awaiting repair. Upjohn J held that a
prescription claim must fail:
This claim . . . really amounts to a claim to a joint user of the land by the defendant. Practically,
the defendant is claiming the whole beneficial user of the strip of land on the south-east side of
the track there; he can leave as many or as few lorries there as he likes for as long as he likes
. . . In my judgment, that is not a claim which can be established as an easement.
18
(1824) 3 B&C 332 (107 ER 756).
19
[1952] Ch 488.
243
It is interesting that Upjohn J recognised that the adverse possession rules would have to
be satisfied before the claim could be made good, showing that it was really a claim to
the fee simple.
The clarity of this analysis is clouded by three factors. The first is that very many
easements give use of the land to the claimant for a limited time. Even the exercise of a
right of way means that the servient owner cannot use the land at the same time. Plainly,
this causes us no difficulty. Other rights seem more intrusive, but still they are recognised.
One example is the right to use a lavatory in an office block in Miller v Emcer Products
Ltd.20 This right involves short-term use. Other rights may involve longer, but less
frequent, use. A good example is Ward v Kirkland.21 A cottage was built close to a
boundary, so that maintenance of one wall required access from the adjoining servient
land. Could there be an easement to use the servient land for such access? Ungoed-
Thomas J observed that access would be no more frequent than monthly (for window-
cleaning) and had no hesitation in holding that this could be an easement. Occasional,
more extensive maintenance might involve ladders or scaffolding for some days or
weeks.
The second factor is that rights to store have long been recognised as easements, even
though the nature of a right to store appears to be little different from the right rejected
in Copeland. This right has been recognised at least since the 1915 decision of the Privy
Council in Att-Gen of Southern Nigeria v John Holt & Co (Liverpool) Ltd.22 This decision
was discussed in Copeland v Greenhalf and apparently distinguished on the basis that
Copeland was a claim to unrestricted use of the land in question.
Let us consider the application of the right to store if the owner of a pub has a right
to store beer barrels in an adjoining building (the servient land). A right to use a room
exclusively for storing beer barrels might face problems in qualifying as an easement. On
the other hand, the law would accept a right to store beer barrels in a room which the
servient owner also used for other purposes.
The third factor is that some cases have adopted a much more generous approach. A
well-known example is Wright v Macadam,23 which recognised an easement to store coal
in a coal shed. It is a difficult case for two reasons. First, it is not clear whether the coal
shed was used exclusively for storage of the claimant’s coal. Second, no mention is made
by the court of the issue of exclusive possession – it seems to be treated as a straightfor-
ward case of storage. The problems are compounded because Wright was not cited in
Copeland.
Of great importance is the recent House of Lords decision in Moncrieff v Jamieson.24
This involved a right that has featured in several recent cases: a right to park cars. The
first full analysis was that of Judge Paul Baker QC in London & Blenheim Estates Ltd v
Ladbroke Retail Parks Ltd.25 The case involved a claim to park cars in a private car park
20
[1956] Ch 304.
21
[1967] Ch 194.
22
[1915] AC 599.
23
[1949] 2 KB 744.
24
[2007] 1 WLR 2620.
25
[1992] 1 WLR 1278; not considered on appeal [1994] 1 WLR 31.
244
for shops and businesses. The judge held that this could be an easement, as it could not
be said to leave the servient owner without any reasonable use for the land. It might be
noted that there was no right to park in a specific space: it was a right to use car park-
ing facilities so long as there were spaces available.
The recognition of car parking on the facts of London & Blenheim looks entirely justi-
fiable. There was no claim to exclusive possession over any specific area and the right
looks very much like that recognised in Att-Gen of Southern Nigeria. The same might be
true if there is a right to park in a single space if it happens to be free. What is more
difficult is a claim to park in a garage or a single parking space, where this is exclusive of
the servient owner’s parking there.
Moncrieff involved a non-exclusive right to park and it is not surprising that such a
right was recognised as capable of being an easement. However, Lord Scott proceeded
to criticise some of the earlier cases. It is difficult to assess the significance of his dicta, given 16
that they are obiter dicta in a Scottish case. Lord Neuberger indicated general approval,
Easements
but was not prepared to express a final view on an issue that had not been argued. The
other judges do not address the question.
There are, perhaps, two central points in Lord Scott’s analysis. First, in London &
Blenheim Paul Baker QC argued that the contrast between Wright and Copeland turned
on a matter of degree: ‘A small coal shed in a large property is one thing. The exclusive
use of a large part of the alleged servient tenement is another.’ This argument is full of
problems. In particular, what happens if a large part of the servient land (not including
the area over which the right is exercised) is sold off? Does the easement suddenly cease
to qualify because it is now exercised over a ‘large part’ of what is left? The matter of
degree test is rejected by Lord Scott, who stresses that the relevant land is that over
which the right is exercised (the coal shed, for example). Other recent cases adopt a
similar view and Lord Scott’s analysis seems well justified.
The second point is more controversial. The Court of Appeal in Batchelor v Marlow 26
considered the defendant’s claim to park vehicles during the day on the verge of a road,
owned by the plaintiff. The court asked the question: ‘Would the plaintiff have any rea-
sonable use of the land for parking?’ and had no hesitation in rejecting the defendant’s
claim. It may be recalled that a similar question had been asked in London & Blenheim.
Lord Scott considered this to be the wrong test. So long as the servient owner is not
excluded from the land, the parties are free to create easements involving very extensive
rights. Indeed, Lord Scott expressed some doubts about the result in Copeland, though
he approved the reasoning.
One attraction of Lord Scott’s analysis is that claims will be either to an estate or to an
easement; there is little or no gap between them into which claims such as that in
Batchelor might fall. Lord Scott stresses that even if the factual exercise of the right
excludes the occupier, this does not matter. Thus in Wright, it would not matter that the
coal completely filled the shed – the owner could use the shed, as and when space was
available. Nor would it matter that the right gave the sole right to store coal: the owner
26
[2003] 1 WLR 764.
245
could use the shed for other purposes. Returning to car parking in a garage, the owner
can still use the sides or roof area of the garage for his own purposes. It appears that the
only type of claim which is likely to fail is where the owner is excluded – perhaps because
the claimant possesses all the keys to the shed or garage (possessing the single key might
not be enough to show exclusion of the owner, who might be intended to use it when
unlocked).
It is not easy to know how to conclude, given that the views in Moncrieff are those of
a single judge on an issue that was not argued. Nevertheless, it is interesting that the Law
Commission also advocates a wider view of easements than recognised in the earlier
cases, though they would place more emphasis on the nature of the right claimed than
its effect on the servient owner. It seems very likely that we are moving towards limiting
the significance of the exclusive possession objection, though more cases are needed
before we can predict the precise nature of the rule which will emerge.
● Implied easements
Most property rights are created expressly, rather than by implication. With easements,
there are two reasons why implications are readily found. First, there is invariably a trans-
fer or lease into which an easement can be implied. It is almost unknown for easements
to be implied in other contexts. Second, easements can be very beneficial rights, being
much more valuable to the benefited land than harmful to the servient land. This means
that it is economically beneficial to recognise easements. Nevertheless, some easements
can seriously restrict the use of the burdened land and many argue that the law has gone
too far in implying easements.
The factual context of implied easements is a sale of one of the seller’s several plots of
land (the rules apply just as readily to leases). The claimed right is being exercised before
that sale. This use might be by the seller, the buyer (typically as tenant of the plot sold)
or a third party (often an earlier tenant of the plot sold). We call the right a quasi-easement
– it is not a true easement but a use which looks rather like an easement. If exercised by
the seller it cannot be an easement because it is not allowed to have an easement over
one’s own land. If it is exercised by the buyer or a tenant, this will normally be by simple
permission (licence).
Where the implication rules apply, the prior use is implied into the transfer or lease as
an easement. Because the easement is implied into a deed, it can exist as a legal interest.
Furthermore, it is usually an overriding interest and exempted from registration require-
ments.27 More rarely, we shall see that an easement may be implied into a contract for a
transfer or lease – that will not of course create a legal easement.
The difference between grant and reservation

A crucial point to grasp is that easements are much more readily implied as grants than
as reservations. In this section, we consider what is meant by grants and reservations and
27
See p. 117, above.
246
the reasons for distinguishing them. The implication rules for each of reservations and
grants are considered in the following sections.
As explained above, the context is one in which a person (the grantor) sells land and
retains other land in the vicinity. When we refer to implied grants, we are dealing with
grants in favour of the purchaser or lessee (the grantee). The seller is granting an ease-
ment that will bind his or her retained land. Reservation operates when a right is implied
in favour of the seller: this binds the land being sold.
Although this distinction between grant and reservation is clear, how does it apply to
multiple sales? Suppose Chloe transfers part of her land to Davina and then another part
to Emily. It is easy to say that both Davina and Emily can take advantage of implied grant
rules to claim rights over any other land retained by Chloe, but can they claim rights by
implied grant over each other’s land? So far as Davina is concerned, the clear answer is
yes: the land later sold to Emily had already been burdened by an implied grant in 16
Davina’s favour. However, it appears that Emily cannot claim an easement over Davina’s
Easements
land. It follows from first principles that the sale from Chloe to Emily cannot create rights
over Davina’s land: nobody can create rights over a neighbour’s land. For Emily to have an
easement, it should have been reserved when Chloe sold to Davina. Then the benefit of
an existing easement would pass to Emily.
This is the conclusion when there are entirely separate sales to Davina and Emily.
However, if the sales are at the same time – the most obvious example is at the same
auction – then each sale is treated as coming first. This means that each can take advant-
age of the more generous implied grant rules. Both Davina and Emily can claim rights by
implied grant over the other’s land. This very sensible approach has been applied for
many years. However, it is not enough that the sales are close together. In Wheeldon v
Burrows,28 one of the properties failed to sell at auction and was sold some four weeks
later. This was held to be outside the contemporaneous sales rule. Auctions feature in
nearly all the cases, but the rule probably applies to properties that are marketed
together, even though sales may be agreed a few days or weeks apart.
Why is the law more favourable to buyers (grantees) than sellers (reservation)? A gen-
eral principle (not limited to easements) is that a grantor is not allowed to derogate from
a grant.29 This means that the grantor must respect what the grantee expects to receive
from the deed. It is based upon the perception that the grantor generally determines the
scope of the grant and is well able to insert necessary terms for his or her protection.
Accordingly the court leans in favour of the grantee, who is perceived to be in a relatively
weak position and less able to appreciate what rights might be required by the land
purchased. Derogation from grant underpins the Wheeldon v Burrows rules on implied
easements, to be discussed shortly.
Easements are also implied by section 62 of the Law of Property Act 1925 (LPA). This
is usually the more generous form of implication. Its wording makes it applicable to
grants but not to reservations. It is a word-saving provision, designed to put in statutory
28
(1879) 12 Ch D 31.
29
Discussed in the leases context, p. 194, above.
247
form words that were almost invariably found in nineteenth-century conveyances. In

other words, the idea is that easements are implied when experience shows that sellers
and buyers want them. The implication renders it unnecessary to insert lengthy standard
terms into every conveyance.
An obvious danger is that perceptions and practice may change, so that section 62
might not represent current intentions. In that case, parties will exclude it; conveyances
will be lengthened rather than shortened. Does section 62 reflect current views? These
are probably best evidenced by the modern form of contract for the sale of land, in which
standard terms have been refined through frequent updating. The current contract30 has
only a minor effect on the grants implied by section 62. More importantly, it broadens
reservation so that it operates as widely as implied grants. This shows that limiting
section 62 to implied grants no longer fits what the parties usually want.
Implied reservation
Implied reservation (in favour of the seller or landlord) is quite rare. Wheeldon v Burrows31
established that it operates only when an easement is necessary for the land to be used,
rejecting suggestions of a more liberal regime. Nickerson v Barraclough32 holds that the
implication is based on the intentions of the parties, rather than policy. It follows that the
parties are free to exclude it, though this would be unusual.
Necessity has been restricted to rights of access. The presence of an alternative means
of access, however inconvenient, will be fatal to a claim for necessity. So long as land can
be reached, the courts do not treat other rights, however beneficial to its use, as being
necessary. This was illustrated by Union Lighterage Co v London Graving Dock Co,33 in
which a dock required tie rods on the grantee’s land to secure its sides. This was held to
fail the necessity test. Stirling LJ limited the category to ‘an easement without which the
property retained cannot be used at all, and not merely necessary to the reasonable
enjoyment of that property’.
Sometimes a more generous approach is taken. If a particular use of the land is shown
to be intended by the transaction, then an easement will be implied if it is necessary to
give effect to that intention. Here, it should be noted, the necessity relates to fulfilling the
intended use. High authority is found in Pwllbach Colliery Co Ltd v Woodman,34 where
Lord Parker said: ‘The law will readily imply the grant or reservation of such easements
as may be necessary to give effect to the common intention of the parties to a grant of
real property, with reference to the manner or purposes in and for which the land
granted or some land retained by the grantor is to be used.’
As these dicta indicate, this applies to both reservations and grants. Most of the best
examples of it are grants. Wong v Beaumont 35 involved the lease of land for use as a
30
Standard Conditions of Sale (4th edn), 2003.
31
(1879) 12 Ch D 31.
32
[1981] Ch 426.
33
[1902] 2 Ch 557 at p. 573.
34
[1915] AC 634 at pp. 646–7.
35
[1965] 1 QB 173.
248
restaurant. The tenant was held to have a right to attach ventilation ducting to the land-
lord’s retained land: this was essential for lawful use of the restaurant.
Few cases of reservation on the Pwllbach basis can be found, though Lyttleton Times Co
Ltd v Warners Ltd36 provides a good example. When a building was rebuilt as a printing
house, the landlord agreed to lease part of it to the claimants for use as a hotel. It was
held that the landlord was entitled to make the amount of noise inevitable for printing
houses, even though it would otherwise have constituted a nuisance.
However, it is unusual for the facts to support such a reservation. In particular, the fact
that rights are currently and openly being exercised by the seller or landlord will be quite
insufficient to attract the rule. Thus in Re Webb’s Lease 37 the landlord had advertisements
on a wall of the leased premises. Despite this open exercise of the ‘right’ before the lease,
no implied reservation was found. It was, of course, difficult to assert that the advertise-
ments were necessary for the landlord’s use of the retained land. Further, there was no 16
‘definite and particular manner’ of use of the land as required by Lord Parker in Pwllbach.
Easements
This is a very tough rule and there is something to be said for the contrary view of
Danckwerts J at first instance in Re Webb’s Lease that the parties really intended the land-
lord to be able to maintain the advertisements.
Implied grant
In cases of necessity, grants as well as reservations are readily found. However, implied
grants operate in a much wider range of circumstances. These implications are based
upon two grounds. The first is the common law proposition that a grantor shall not dero-
gate from his grant. This is the rule in Wheeldon v Burrows.38 The second is the ‘general
words’ implied by statute (LPA, section 62) into virtually every transfer. It is wider in its
application and we shall start with it.
The general words: LPA section 62

The overall purpose of section 62 is to include words into conveyances in order to define
exactly what was sold. It reads:
A conveyance of land shall be deemed to include and shall by virtue of this Act operate to convey,
with the land, all buildings, erections, fixtures, commons, hedges, ditches, fences, ways, waters,
watercourses, liberties, privileges, easements, rights, and advantages whatsoever, appertaining
or reputed to appertain to the land . . .
As mentioned above, this wording means that section 62 operates in favour of the
grantee: it does not permit implied reservation. It may be added that ‘conveyance’
includes transfers of registered land and leases.
It is quite clear (and unremarkable) that the benefit of existing easements passes to the
purchaser. Much more interesting, however, is the impact of the words ‘reputed to
appertain’. Suppose that Andrew is a tenant of a house owned by Brenda and is allowed
36
[1907] AC 476 (PC).
37
[1951] Ch 808.
38
(1879) 12 Ch D 31.
249
to use a secondary access over her adjoining land to his back door. If Andrew later buys
the house, an easement can be said to be ‘reputed to appertain’ to the house – Andrew’s
actions make it look as if there is an easement. It is a remarkable effect of the section that
it converts the mere permission (or licence) originally held by Andrew into a permanent
easement. This effect of section 62 has been firmly established ever since the judgment
of Farwell J in International Tea Stores Co v Hobbs39 (the facts were similar to the
example involving Andrew).
The effect of the section is very wide indeed. It has been applied to rights as varied
as rights of way, rights to use a coal shed and rights to access for property maintenance.
We will consider several points on the operation of the section.
Nature of the right

It is obvious that the right must be a recognised form of easement. However, the point
to stress is that not just the right claimed, but also the right as exercised before the con-
veyance must possess the characteristics of an easement. This is well illustrated by Green
v Ashco Horticulturist Ltd,40 in which the claimant had requested permission each time
access through doors was used. Although what was claimed – a right of way – was plainly
capable of being an easement, the facts were not such that an easement was ‘reputed to
appertain’. A right to use an access route only when the servient owner agrees does not
constitute an easement.
The nature of the permission and the user

Giving permission for a limited period excludes section 62. In Goldberg v Edwards,41 a
landlord gave permission to use an access route through the servient land. The Court
of Appeal considered that the crucial question was whether the permission was given
so long as the servient land was owned by the landlord. Though International Tea
Stores shows that a permission granted indefinitely, in the knowledge that it can be
withdrawn at any time, leads to the operation of section 62, a permission given for a
particular period does not attract section 62. It is not a distinction that makes obvious
sense!
Section 62 operates whether the prior exercise of rights is by the purchaser or by a
third party (typically a previous tenant). How does Goldberg operate if the limited per-
mission has been given to such a third party? Perhaps a purchaser who is unaware of that
limit should be able to assume that the exercised rights will continue. On the other hand,
a purchaser who is aware that a right is intended to last only as long as the permission
continues has a less meritorious claim. However, an objection to this distinction is that it
is quite difficult to extract from the words ‘reputed to appertain’. There is no authority
on the point.
Must the use of the land be obvious to a purchaser? Cases such as International Tea
Stores and Goldberg show that there is no need for the layout of the premises to indicate
39
[1903] 2 Ch 165, supported by earlier authorities.
40
[1966] 1 WLR 889.
41
[1950] Ch 247.
250
that a right of way exists. However, an easement cannot then be said to be reputed to
appertain to the land if it is exercised covertly or extremely rarely. This was discussed as
regards a right of access for maintenance in Ward v Kirkland.42 Ungoed-Thomas J
accepted that intermittent and non-apparent rights would not qualify. However, section
62 applied because it was obvious from looking at the premises that access was essential
– there was no other way of obtaining access to the relevant wall.
The use of the land need not continue right up until the grant. If the use has been by
an earlier tenant of the land sold, it is likely to have ended some time earlier when the
tenant left. It would be overly technical for section 62 not to apply in such cases and
Cross J in Green held it applicable so long as there is a ‘pattern of regular user’. One
would expect the result to be different if the use had ended because the grantor had
prohibited it.
16
Diversity of occupation
Easements
For section 62 to apply, the benefited and servient plots must normally be occupied
by different persons (diversity of occupation). The fact that an owner of two plots of
land walks over one of them as an alternative access to the other is not really indicative
of there being an easement – it is the simple act of walking over one’s own land!
Although section 62 does not explicitly establish the rule, it seems correct to assert that
no right is ‘reputed to appertain’. The rule dates back to Long v Gowlett 43 early in the
twentieth century and was confirmed by the House of Lords in Sovmots Investments Ltd
v SSE.44
This is a very important limitation upon the scope of section 62. It is justified as no
purchaser could reasonably expect to do everything that had previously been done by
the seller. Without the limitation, the section would have an unacceptably wide effect.
However, there may be one very significant qualification on Long v Gowlett. P&S Platt
Ltd v Crouch45 states that diversity of occupation is not required if the easement is con-
tinuous and apparent. This means that, for example, rights based on pipes (either for
fresh water or drainage) or tracks will be granted, regardless of diversity of occupation.
On the other hand the diversity requirement was repeated, without the Platt qualifica-
tion, in Kent v Kavanagh.46 Neither case quotes all the relevant cases and the dicta in
both are obiter: the question remains unsettled. The continuous and apparent test is
central to the rule in Wheeldon v Burrows; it is further considered below.
Contrary intention
Section 62 does not apply if a contrary intention is expressed. Perhaps surprisingly, this
has to be an intention that the section does not apply; this is more difficult to prove than
42
[1967] Ch 194; p. 244, above.
43
[1923] 2 Ch 177.
44
[1979] AC 144.
45
[2004] 1 P&CR 242 at [42], [59].
46
[2007] Ch 1 at [46]; Platt was not cited in the judgments.
251
an intention that there should not be an easement. However, an intention that there
should not be an easement may trigger rectification of the conveyance, applying
normal contract principles. In Clark v Barnes,47 the parties had agreed that there should
not be a right of way. The court rectified the conveyance and inserted a term excluding
the right of way.
Application to contracts
Lastly, section 62 applies only to conveyances, not to contracts.48 This will be material
where there is a dispute as to whether the conveyance should include the easement in
question. It is easy to accept that, given its wording, the section only applies to con-
veyances. More difficult is the argument that a term should be implied into the contract
that the purchaser is entitled to a conveyance with section 62 applying to it. Forbes J at
first instance in Sovmots Investments Ltd v SSE49 held that there was no such implication.
This is surprising, as it sends the message that contracts should include all the terms
implied by section 62 into conveyances. Otherwise, the purchaser runs the risk that the
seller may exclude them when the conveyance is drafted.
The rule in Wheeldon v Burrows

Although the decision in Wheeldon v Burrows concerned implied reservation, the obiter
dicta of Thesiger LJ on implied grant have proved most important:50
. . . on the grant by the owner of a tenement of part of that tenement as it is then used and
enjoyed, there will pass to the grantee all those continuous and apparent easements (by which,
of course, I mean quasi easements), or, in other words, all those easements which are necessary
to the reasonable enjoyment of the property granted, and which have been and are at the time
of the grant used by the owners of the entirety for the benefit of the part granted.
Leaving aside section 62, this provides the basis for much of the modern law on implied
grants. It marries together two very different ideas from the previous law. The ‘necessary
for reasonable enjoyment’ test fits well with the traditional idea of grantors not being
able to derogate from their grants. The ‘continuous and apparent’ test appears51 to be
derived from French law. What Thesiger LJ achieves is a marriage between these two
ideas. The use of the phrase ‘in other words’ indicates that they are the same. Yet it is
quite clear that they are different, not just in their origin but also in their application.
What is meant by continuous and apparent? The test clearly applies to easements with
some continuous element, such as drainage rights, support and light. However, the courts
have included discontinuous rights, if the land contains some permanent indication of
their existence. A good example is that a track leading to the benefited land is indicative
of a right to use it, as held in Borman v Griffith.52 It may be more appropriate to describe
the test as ‘continuously apparent’.
47
[1929] 2 Ch 368.
48
Borman v Griffith [1930] 1 Ch 493; see also p. 254, below.
49
[1977] QB 411 at p. 442; the point was not argued when the case went on appeal.
50
(1879) 12 Ch D 31 at p. 49.
51
Simpson (1967) 83 LQR 240.
52
[1930] 1 Ch 493.
252
The necessary for reasonable enjoyment test is much easier to satisfy than necessity in
reservation. It is not enough, however, that the claimed easement is merely useful. Most
problems have arisen in the context of secondary means of access. Simply providing a
more convenient access will fail the test, as illustrated by Goldberg v Edwards.53 An
annexe to a house was reached by a passageway by the side of the house. A secondary
right of access through the house failed the test. However, the courts have been prepared
to find the test satisfied for easements which provide some important function. Examples
are access for vehicles (where there is no other suitable access) and access to the rear of
terraced houses, to avoid carrying things through the house.
It has been observed that the two tests (continuous and apparent; necessary for rea-
sonable enjoyment) were equated in Wheeldon itself. Although differing views can be
found, it is generally thought that both must be satisfied. In any event, it may be thought
inappropriate to apply Wheeldon v Burrows as if it were an Act of Parliament. It may be 16
preferable to see the tests as ones which guide the judge in deciding whether there is
Easements
derogation from grant. If a right is continuous and apparent, then it might seem reason-
able for the grantee to assume that the right will continue after the grant. On the other
hand, many rights are relatively trivial and it would not be sensible to expect these to
continue. This points towards saying that the necessary for reasonable enjoyment test
should always be satisfied.
If a right is necessary for reasonable enjoyment, should that be enough to justify its
implication? Ward v Kirkland 54 suggests not, as Ungoed-Thomas J considered that the
continuous and apparent test always has to be satisfied. Yet other cases have placed more
stress on necessity, especially because of its role regarding intended use of the land.55 This
might show that a high level of necessity might suffice by itself. Whether that really is the
present law can be little more than speculation.
Section 62 and Wheeldon compared

The application of section 62 and Wheeldon may be explained in terms of diversity of
occupation. In Kent v Kavanagh,56 the Court of Appeal held that section 62 applies only
if there is diversity and that Wheeldon applies only if there is no diversity. This neatly gives
mutually exclusive spheres of operation to the two methods of implication.
As regards section 62, it has been seen that there is controversy as to whether it
covers continuous and apparent rights, where there is no diversity. If it does, then there
seems to be little scope for Wheeldon ever to apply. Section 62 contains no necessity
requirement and so it can more readily be relied upon – whether or not there is diversity.
Turning to Wheeldon, it was not clear prior to Kent whether it could apply when there
is diversity of occupation. The point is unlikely to be significant, as section 62 clearly
applies in such circumstances. As section 62 requires neither continuous and apparent
use nor reasonable necessity, any claimant will naturally rely on section 62.
53
[1950] Ch 247. A claim based on s 62 succeeded: p. 250, above.
54
[1967] Ch 194 at pp. 224–5.
55
Pwllbach Colliery Co Ltd v Woodman [1915] AC 634 at pp. 646–7; see p. 248, above.
56
[2007] Ch 1 at [43]–[46].
253
Does this leave Wheeldon without any role? Obviously, it will have an important role
if section 62 always requires diversity (with no continuous and apparent exception).
Further, there is one context in which Wheeldon clearly possesses an advantage. It has
been seen that section 62 does not apply to contracts. Although non-derogation from
grant, like section 62, applies to deeds, it is part of a more general implication rule.
Maugham J in Borman v Griffith57 implied an easement into the contract on the basis of
the principles in Wheeldon, despite having refused to apply section 62. Accordingly a
purchaser who wants to rely on implying an easement into a contract will always have to
rely on Wheeldon.
Reform
The Law Commission is considering radical reforms to the implication of easements. For
a start, the distinction between implied grant and implied reservation would disappear.
Though a central plank of the law ever since Wheeldon, the distinction can cause prob-
lems for those dealing with the land decades in the future. Should the owner of two
adjoining plots sell one in 1920 and the other in 1921, the rights of the two purchasers
as between each other may be very different (only the first can rely on implied grant).
That may be acceptable, but it is less easy to explain to a person who purchases one of
those plots in 2010.
Turning to the rules which would in future apply to both grant and reservation,
section 62 would disappear. The amazing width of its operation has already been com-
mented upon. Several cases58 have expressed unease about it and it has also attracted
sharp academic criticism. Any assumption on the part of a purchaser or tenant that all
temporary permissions will be converted into permanent rights seems wildly optimistic
and unjustified. Yet it must be recalled that section 62 was enacted because it was a term
commonly inserted into conveyances; it is not an expression of statutory policy that it is
desirable for such easements to be implied. It is instructive that the Standard Conditions
of Sale 59 choose not to exclude the section, save for rights to lights. The effect of the cases
has been clear for over a century. If section 62 really caused dismay for vendors and
lessors, one would expect it to be routinely excluded.
Nor would Wheeldon survive unscathed. Though the details remain to be settled, the
test seems likely to be based on what is necessary for reasonable enjoyment (perhaps
linked to intended use of the land). This would remove the current continuous and
apparent test. Although this would tend to broaden the scope for implication, this is
easier to accept when section 62 no longer applies. In any event, much depends on the
form in which necessity is finally expressed. The reform would avoid much of the com-
plexity in the present law, though some might think that physical factors indicating a
57
[1930] 1 Ch 493.
58
These include Wright v Macadam [1949] 2 KB 744 at pp. 754–5 (Tucker LJ) and Green v Ashco
Horticulturist Ltd [1966] 1 WLR 889 at p. 897 (Cross J).
59
4th edn, para 3.4 (2003).
254
continuous and apparent right do deserve some recognition. One thing to remember in
favour of a fairly generous basis for implying easements is that they are more likely to
confer significant advantages to the benefited land than to cause significant loss or dis-
turbance to the servient owner.

C AS E
in this chapter:
Wheeldon v Burrows [1874–80] All ER Rep 669 A 16
R
N
V I G AT O
Wright v Macadam [1949] 2 KB 744 POWERED BY
Easements
255
17 Covenants

ovenants (obligations in deeds) are, like licences, on the dividing line between
C contract and proprietary interests. Covenants need not involve land at all – I could
simply covenant to pay Catriona £3,000. It is where covenants benefit land (I covenant
to maintain the river banks of land belonging to Daniel) or are made by a landowner
(I covenant to paint my house every five years) that we begin to be interested in them.
Because covenants are obligations, there is always one party with the benefit and
another with the burden (or obligation). We are interested in the passing of the benefit
or burden to a new owner of the relevant land. The transfer of the benefit is not surpris-
ing, as the benefit of contracts can be assigned. Thus Catriona could assign the benefit
of the £3,000 covenant to Emily, who could then sue me. Of more importance to
land law is whether the benefit passes automatically, without express assignment, when
benefited land is sold. This question has given rise to a surprisingly large body of
technical law.
Burdens of contracts generally cannot be transferred. If I owe Catriona £3,000 I can-
not simply say that I am transferring that obligation to Andrew. It would take a tripartite
agreement between Andrew, Catriona and myself to achieve that result. However, land
law does recognise the transfer of burdens of obligations where the obligation constitutes
an interest in land. An estate contract provides a good example. If I contract to lease my
house to Bella, then a purchaser of my house may be subject to Bella’s claim.
It was observed above that covenants may benefit or burden land. Frequently, there
will be both benefited and burdened land. A simple example is where I own two adjoining
houses, Blue Lake and Green Lawn. I sell Green Lawn to Lara, requiring her to covenant
not to use Green Lawn for commercial purposes. That covenant is intended to maintain
the tranquillity of Blue Lake, which I retain. As we shall see in more detail below, the burden
of a restrictive covenant (an obligation not to do something, as in the example above) can
bind purchasers. In contrast, the burden of a positive covenant (an obligation to do some-
thing) almost never binds purchasers.
Restrictive covenants are similar to easements: both involve one plot of land having a
burden and another having a benefit. Another comparison is with leasehold covenants.
256
Main issues and rules: restrictive covenants
We have seen that the benefit and burden of covenants in leases affect purchasers,
without any distinction being drawn between positive and restrictive covenants. These
comparisons are discussed under ‘Critical and controversial issues’.
Final introductory observations concern the creation of covenants. In practice, covenants
are entered into when land is sold and the seller retains adjoining land. The example
involving Blue Lake and Green Lawn is very typical. Covenants are always express; unlike
easements, they are never implied.

Restrictive covenants have bound purchasers ever since the decision in Tulk v Moxhay1 in
1848. The case involved the sale of Leicester Square garden, with a covenant to ‘keep 17
and maintain [it] in sufficient and proper repair as a square garden and pleasure ground,
Covenants
in an open state, uncovered with any building, in neat and ornamental order’. When a
later purchaser of the garden proposed to build on it, the court ordered compliance with
the covenant.
What induced Lord Cottenham LC to promote the restrictive covenant from a contract
to a proprietary interest binding the purchaser? He gave two reasons. The first was that
it would otherwise be impossible to sell part of one’s land without running the risk of the
remainder becoming worthless. It was important that owners should be encouraged to
sell. This was important in the 1840s, as land was required for industrial use and cities
were developing fast. His second reason was that it would be unjust if a purchaser, having
accepted an obligation, could remove that obligation from the land by the simple
expedient of selling it on. This is unconvincing. It would allow any obligation to be recog-
nised as proprietary. Unless the courts are willing to go that far (they never have), it is
too broad an argument to carry much conviction. The initial purchaser in any event
remains liable for breach of contract.
● Requirements
What is required for a valid restrictive covenant? The basic rules were sorted out in the
century following Tulk; today the law is quite straightforward. It was soon clarified that
Tulk applies only to restrictive (not positive) covenants.2 A frequently quoted comment
of Jessell MR3 is that ‘The doctrine of [Tulk v Moxhay], rightly considered, appears to
me to be either an extension in equity of the doctrine of Spencer’s Case [on leasehold
covenants] to another line of cases, or else an extension in equity of the doctrine of
negative easements’. The comparison with easements is instructive, as easements do not
generally involve positive obligations. This limitation to restrictive covenants was recently
1
2 Ph 774 (41 ER 1143).
2
Haywood v Brunswick Permanent Benefit BS (1881) 8 QBD 403; South Western Railway Co v Gomm (1882)
20 Ch D 562.
3
South Western Railway Co v Gomm (1882) 20 Ch D 562 at p. 583.
257
confirmed by the House of Lords in Rhone v Stephens,4 which will be discussed in the
context of positive covenants.
When is a covenant restrictive? A frequently cited test is whether the covenantor (the
party with the obligation) has to ‘put his hand in his pocket’, i.e., pay to comply with the
obligation. If the answer is yes, then it is a positive covenant. Covenants often employ a
mixture of requirements. Thus in Tulk itself, the obligation to keep in proper repair looks
positive, whereas the obligation not to build is clearly restrictive. It is clear that the courts
will enforce the restrictive aspects of such mixed covenants.
A separate point is that there must be benefited land.5 This fits both the comparison
with easements and also the policy justification of encouraging sale of part of a larger
plot. Unsurprisingly, one cannot simply designate benefited land; it really has to benefit.
So long as the plots are reasonably close, this is quite easily shown for obligations not to
build or not to use for commercial purposes (common forms of covenant).
What was probably not anticipated in 1848 was the use of restrictive covenants to
avoid competition with the benefited land. Suppose Brian runs a hairstyling business. He
sells three plots of land a hundred metres away with a covenant that they should not be
used for a hairstyling business. Breach of the covenant would not have such a direct
effect on the benefited land as in Tulk. Rather, it would impact on the profitability of
Brian’s business and the value of the land and business combined. Although some unease
has been expressed, the courts appear to recognise this as a sufficient benefit. Indeed, it
would be impractical to exclude competition benefit, as such covenants can benefit the
land in a more conventional manner. Thus a covenant not to sell alcohol might benefit
adjoining land because it will avoid possible nuisance from rowdy conduct. However, the
covenantee may own a neighbouring pub, the real purpose being to protect his business.
Competition covenants may pose particular problems because benefit can still be
argued despite a quite great distance between the plots. With other types of covenants,
benefit is difficult to prove once a fairly small distance separates the plots. The cases
provide little specific guidance as to what distance is acceptable, but it is likely to be
quite small.
● Running of the burden

Provided that the requirements above are satisfied, the running of the burden is straight-
forward. If the covenant is registered, any successor in title will be bound.
● Running of the benefit

This topic has caused the courts much difficulty; it is the most litigated issue in covenants.
This is very surprising. Passing the benefit of obligations shouldn’t really be a problem: in
the similar area of easements it has been relatively trouble-free.
4
[1994] 2 AC 310.
5
Formby v Barker [1903] 2 Ch 539; LCC v Allen [1914] 3 KB 642.
258
There are two types of point to consider. The first is whether a neighbour of the
covenantee can claim on the covenant. The second point is whether a purchaser (or other
successor in title) from the covenantee can claim.
On neighbours, LPA section 56 permits such third parties to claim as long as the
covenant purports to be with them.6 Suppose Richard purchases land from Sufiya and
enters into a restrictive covenant with her. Section 56 will operate if the covenant pro-
vides: ‘I promise Theresa, Sufiya’s neighbour, that I will comply with the covenant’: Theresa
can claim on the covenant. What does not suffice is a promise to Sufiya for the benefit
of her neighbour. This is a very fine distinction. However, a more general right to sue may
be based on the Contracts (Rights of Third Parties) Act 1999. The application of that Act
to freehold covenants has yet to be litigated.
Most problems, however, concern purchasers from the covenantee. Before looking at
the rules, is there any reason why the issue should give rise to difficulties? A practical 17
point is that the benefited land will very frequently not be identified. A typical case is where
Covenants
Andrew owns a large area and sells a quarter-acre plot to Brenda, imposing a restrictive
covenant that no more than one house will be built upon the plot. The natural wording
of the obligation will not define Andrew’s retained (and benefited) plot. This example
shows that we normally know what land is burdened (the plot sold), but frequently it
isn’t made clear what land is benefited.
Does it matter if it is not obvious from the transfer what land is benefited? If Andrew
or a successor in title wishes to sue, they will have to show that they do in fact hold
benefited land. As regards Brenda (or a purchaser from her), it may be argued that they
simply shouldn’t breach the covenant: it doesn’t matter if they are not sure who can sue.
These arguments overlook one important point. It cannot be assumed that covenants will
always be enforced so as to prevent breach. If Brenda wants to build a second house, it
may be possible for her to do a deal with Andrew so that he receives a cash payment
in return for not enforcing the covenant. If the breach were less serious, Andrew might
simply agree to it. These are examples of the principle that the holders of the benefit can
modify or terminate the covenant.
If the benefited land is not known, how can a successor in title to Brenda discover who
holds the benefit? The successor may well not know what land was owned by Andrew.
This won’t be a problem if Andrew is still the owner, but it is troublesome if he has sold.
There is then a real danger that the successor’s desirable land development or use may
be thwarted by the risk of an unexpected person seeking to enforce the restrictive
covenant. These factors justify rules that ensure certainty as to the identity of the bene-
fited land. They are stressed by the Court of Appeal in Crest Nicholson Residential (South)
Ltd v McAllister,7 discussed below.
It is commonly said that the there are three ways in which the benefit may run: annex-
ation, assignment and schemes of development.
6
Amsprop Trading Ltd v Harris Distribution Ltd [1997] 1 WLR 1025, based on Beswick v Beswick [1968] AC
58.
7
[2004] 1 WLR 2409 at [34].
259
Annexation
This is the permanent linking of the covenant to the land. Once a covenant has been
annexed, the benefit will pass automatically to future purchasers of the land. Annexation
has given rise to some controversy and is one of our ‘Critical and controversial’ topics.
However, one element will be discussed now: exactly what is the land to which the
covenant is annexed?
There is a choice between two possibilities. We could treat all the land of the covenantee
(the party who has the benefit of the covenant) as a single entity, such that the covenant
can be enforced by anybody who owns that land. This is called annexation to the whole.
It may be illustrated as follows. Charles owns a large estate of 3,000 acres, which we will
call the Eastminster Estate. He sells ten acres to Diana, subject to a restrictive covenant,
the benefit being expressly annexed to the Eastminster Estate. Subsequently, Charles
transfers a one-acre plot out of the Eastminster Estate to Camilla and then the remainder
of the estate to William. In this example, Camilla cannot be said to own the Eastminster
Estate (the ‘whole’) and so cannot enforce the covenant. William, however, does own the
Eastminster Estate and can sue; we do not require ownership of literally all the original
land, so long as William can fairly be said to own the Eastminster Estate.
Alternatively, there can be annexation to each and every part. In that event, an owner
of any part of the benefited land is able to sue8 – a much simpler outcome. Many potential
problems have been avoided since the Court of Appeal in Federated Homes Ltd v Mill
Lodge Properties Ltd 9 introduced a presumption that annexation was to each and every
part.
That presumption has been widely welcomed, but are there any problems or dis-
advantages with annexation to each and every part? One point is that it will have to be
shown that the relevant part is in fact benefited by the covenant; this could be difficult
if it is a large estate and the relevant part is on the opposite side to the burdened land.
In annexation to the whole, it is relatively easy to conclude that the whole as a single unit
is benefited.10
A quite different point is that the covenantee may positively wish that later purchasers
of parts should not be able to sue on the covenant. This is explained by the following
example. Suppose Alison sells a field (part of her farm) to Brian for £300,000, subject to
a covenant to use it for farming purposes only. If planning permission for building were
obtained, the field could be worth up to £5 million. Alison later sells a small part of her
retained land (the benefited land) to Charles. Brian now wants to build on the field and
is offering Alison £3 million to be released from the covenant. Alison decides to accept
this offer. It would be disastrous for her if Charles could enforce the covenant. Either
Charles could block the projected building or he could claim a share of the £3 million in
return for his agreement. Of course, if Alison really wants to stop building in any circum-
stances then she will be happy for Charles to share the benefit: annexation to each and
every part then works well.
8
Marquess of Zetland v Driver [1939] Ch 1.
9
[1980] 1 WLR 594.
10
One example is Marten v Flight Refuelling Ltd [1962] Ch 115.
260
Assignment
The covenantee can assign the benefit of a restrictive covenant to a successor in title. As
regards timing, annexation takes place on setting up the covenant: it is an act of the
covenantor and covenantee. Assignment is a transaction between the covenantee and a
later purchaser of the benefited land; the covenantor is not a party to it.
Simply selling the land isn’t enough to effect an assignment11 – there must be some
reference to the purchaser obtaining the benefit of the covenant. The covenant need say
nothing as to the benefited land: it suffices if extrinsic evidence identifies the benefited
land with reasonable certainty.12
It remains to make a couple of final observations. The first is that, despite some earlier
uncertainty, it seems necessary to have assignments every time the land is sold, some-
times called a ‘chain of assignments’. An argument that the first assignment constituted
‘delayed annexation’ has not been adopted by more recent cases.13 The second point 17
is that assignment is essentially a contract-based concept. Whether it is appropriate in
Covenants
the property context is discussed, together with annexation, under ‘Critical and con-
troversial issues’.
Schemes of development
Large developments frequently employ identical covenants binding all the plots. These
covenants are used to ensure a cohesive development, so that all the houses (schemes
are usually found in the housing context) are used in a similar manner. There may then
be a scheme of development, sometimes called building scheme. We need to examine
when there will be a scheme of development and what its effects are.
The effect of schemes

We start with the effects of a scheme, as this will help explain the requirements for a
scheme to exist. Most pertinent to the present discussion, the benefit of the covenant will
pass to purchasers, without any need for annexation or assignment. The essential idea of
a scheme is that there is a form of ‘local law’ binding all houses within the scheme –
everybody buying a house within the scheme should expect to be both benefited and
burdened by the covenants.
The following example shows how schemes operate. Let us suppose that Developers
plc has set up a scheme of development for a 50-house development. Developers sell,
say, ten houses, before selling a house to Lucy. It is easy to see that the benefited land
includes the plots retained by Developers and that the benefit will pass to later purchasers
of these plots. But what about the ten plots already sold? The effect of a scheme is that
they also obtain the benefit. There is no need to rely on LPA, section 56.
A separate point concerns the land retained by Developers. Suppose that Developers
find that the houses sell slowly and decide to build a factory instead of the last 25 houses.
Reciprocity is treated as a crucial element of a scheme of development. Even though the
11
Roake v Chadha [1984] 1 WLR 40, rejecting an argument based on LPA, s 62.
12
Newton Abbot Co-operative Society Ltd v Williamson & Treadgold Ltd [1952] Ch 286.
13
It might, however, be revived by Cygnet Healthcare Ltd v Greenswan Consultants Ltd [2009] EWHC 1318
(Ch) at [14].
261
covenant may concentrate only on what the purchaser should not do, all land within the
scheme (sold or unsold) is burdened as well as benefited. It follows that Developers
cannot build that factory.
A quite different element of schemes of development is the consequence of two plots
becoming owned by the same person. In the above example, suppose Lucy later buys an
adjoining plot within the scheme for her elderly father to live in. After her father dies, that
plot is sold to Malcolm. Can Malcolm and Lucy enforce the building scheme covenants
between each other? Normally, covenants (just like easements) terminate if the benefited
and burdened plots become owned by the same person. However, the rule is different
for schemes of development: the idea of a local law binding the area is too strong for
covenants to terminate in this manner. Once the plots are separated again, each is fully
liable under the scheme. This avoids what Megarry J14 has described as ‘haphazard islands
of partial immunity within the area of the scheme’.
When is there a scheme?

The ideas of ‘local law’ and reciprocity mentioned above go far to explain the require-
ments for schemes of development. The traditional requirements were established a
century ago in Elliston v Reacher.15 Parker J required proof of four factors:
(1) that both the claimant and defendant derive title from the same common vendor;
(2) that previously to selling the land the vendor laid out the estate for sale in lots sub-
ject to restrictions intended to be imposed on all the lots; the restrictions may vary
in details as to particular lots, but must be consistent only with some general scheme
of development;
(3) that these restrictions were intended by the common vendor to be and were for the
benefit of all the lots intended to be sold, whether or not they were also intended to
be for the benefit of other land retained by the vendor; and
(4) that the lots were purchased from the common vendor upon the footing that the
restrictions were to operate for the benefit of the other lots included in the scheme.
These tests are notoriously difficult to satisfy. Cases in recent decades have shown greater
flexibility: it suffices to show that reciprocity of obligation is intended throughout the
area of the scheme.16 If this reciprocity is explicit on the face of the documents, that is
sufficient. In other cases, the traditional Elliston criteria are employed to discover whether
that reciprocity is present. Even then, the criteria should not be employed in too tech-
nical a manner. For example, there is no reason why there should not be a scheme if two
adjoining landowners together set up a scheme applying to the land of both of them –
despite there being no single common vendor.
Land law students commonly make the mistake of assuming that there is a scheme
whenever similar covenants are imposed on purchasers. Similar covenants are doubtless
14
Brunner v Greenslade [1971] Ch 993 at p. 1004, approved in Texaco Antilles Ltd v Kernochan [1973] AC
609.
15
[1908] 2 Ch 374 at p. 384, approved by the Court of Appeal [1908] 2 Ch 665.
16
Baxter v Four Oaks Properties Ltd [1965] Ch 816 and Re Dolphin’s Conveyance [1970] Ch 654 are the
seminal cases.
262
necessary for there to be a scheme, but countless cases demonstrate that more has to be
proved. The most revealing question is whether it is apparent to the first purchaser that
all future plots will be sold on a similar basis, such that the seller cannot thereafter change
his or her mind about their use. Unless that is the case, there will be no scheme.
Privity exceptions?
Is it possible for the covenantor and covenantee simply to agree (without annexation)
that a purchaser of the benefited land should be able to sue? The standard answer is that
the purchaser is not in privity of contract with the covenantor (let alone purchasers of the
burdened land).
In looking at neighbours, we saw that LPA section 56 and the Contracts (Rights of
Third Parties) Act 1999 sometimes enable third parties to sue. Could these provisions
apply in favour of purchasers of the benefited land? Although it is settled that section 56 17
cannot be applied in this way, there seems to be no reason why the 1999 Act should not
operate (it explicitly applies even though the third party is not in existence at the time of
Covenants
the contract). The question is likely to be whether there is a sufficient promise to benefit
successors in title. The language of LPA section 78 (discussed below as part of annexa-
tion) may well assist in proving this. Though the covenantor might be liable on this basis
(contract-based liability), it is more difficult to argue that a successor in title is liable (land
law-based liability).
● The operation of restrictive covenants

Two very different points will be mentioned. First, there is a statutory discretion17 to modify
or terminate restrictive covenants that are obsolete or are otherwise disproportionate
(compensation for the benefited owner may be ordered). Restrictive covenants last in-
definitely and may become seriously out of date as the nature of the locality changes.
A covenant not to use land for commercial purposes may make sense when all the
adjoining properties are houses. A century later, all the adjoining houses may have been
converted into shops or pulled down and rebuilt as offices. Continuing to enforce the
covenant is pointless and may prevent necessary redevelopment or changes in use.
This may be an appropriate stage at which to mention that restrictive covenants play
a similar role to planning permission. Planning permission (from local authorities) is
required before buildings are built or their use is changed. The system was introduced
after the Second World War and at one stage it was thought that it would replace
restrictive covenants. That has not happened: restrictive covenants are as popular as ever.
Planning permission exists to serve the public interest as regards what land development
should be permitted. The private interest of owners of adjoining land may be very differ-
ent. A planning authority might think it a very good idea that a house be converted into
a restaurant serving the locality, whereas the owner of the adjoining house may have very
different ideas! That is not to say that the position of neighbours is ignored within the
planning process, rather that a wider set of interests come into play. One consequence
17
LPA, s 84.
263
Main issues and rules: positive covenants
is that an application for modification or termination of a covenant gains little support

from any grant of planning permission.
The second point for discussion concerns enforcement. It is unusual for breach of a
restrictive covenant to cause really significant financial losses. Most holders of the bene-
fit are more concerned with loss of amenity than with reduction in land values. It follows
that claimants nearly always seek an injunction to prevent breach, rather than damages.
It will be fairly easy to obtain an injunction to prevent future breaches.
More difficult are situations in which the breach has taken place, especially where
a building has been built. Will there be an injunction to pull it down? The courts are
reluctant to allow such wanton waste of resources, though an injunction is likely if the
burdened owner has deliberately undertaken the risk of enforcement. More frequently,
the builder believes either that there is no breach of covenant or that there is nobody
able to enforce it. In such cases, the court is likely to refuse an injunction. However,
damages will be awarded so that the builder has to share with the claimant some of the
profit from the new building: often around a third. That sum is likely to far exceed any
loss to the claimant. It is usually explained as what could have been negotiated by the
claimant (before the breach) as a payment for giving permission for the building.18

● Passing the burden
The courts have consistently refused to allow the burden of positive covenants to run
with the land. Unlike restrictive covenants, they have never been admitted to the list of
recognised proprietary interests. The law on this point is well settled. It had been decided
early in the nineteenth century and was not affected by Tulk v Moxhay. Most significant
today is the confirmation of the earlier cases by the House of Lords in Rhone v Stephens,19
which involved an obligation to keep a roof in repair. Rhone and the reasons for its
approach are considered below, under ‘Critical and controversial issues’.
Is it possible to circumvent this rule? A number of possibilities have been discussed
over the years, but two will be mentioned here. The first is that it is possible to place a
restriction on the register of the burdened land, requiring the consent of the proprietor
of the benefited land to be obtained before the land is transferred (we saw in Chapter 10
that restrictions can be entered despite the absence of any proprietary interest).20 The idea
is that consent will be given if the new purchaser promises to comply with the covenant.
There is then a direct contractual link with the new purchaser. Technically, it isn’t a case
of a proprietary interest binding a purchaser, but a new obligation freely undertaken by
the purchaser. There will be a fresh restriction on the purchaser’s registered title, so the
process continues indefinitely.
18
Jaggard v Sawyer [1995] 1 WLR 269.
19
[1994] 2 AC 310.
20
See p. 116, above.
264
However, the most common route is through the so-called ‘chain of covenants’. Let
us suppose that Marilyn covenants with Norman (a neighbour) to keep her land in repair.
Marilyn later transfers her land to Olive. LPA section 79 presumes that a covenantor
makes a covenant ‘on behalf of himself his successors in title and the persons deriving
title under him’. This does not mean that Olive is bound (that argument was rejected in
Rhone), but that Marilyn is herself liable for breaches by successors in title such as Olive.
This potential liability encourages Marilyn to insist on a promise from Olive that she
will comply with the covenant. Norman has (most likely) no action against Olive, but
there is a fair chance that Olive will comply with the covenant in order to avoid liability
on her promise. If she fails to do so, then Norman can sue Marilyn, who in turn can
sue Olive.
The principal weaknesses in the chain of covenants are that it depends on the
covenantor’s remembering to impose an obligation on the purchaser and that the whole 17
edifice collapses if there is a flaw in any link in the chain. If Marilyn sells the land and
Covenants
moves away (or dies), then it may be impossible to trace and sue her. The risks increase
the more frequently the land is sold. There remains, however, a possibility that a promise
by the current owner (Olive, for example) could be enforced by the original covenantee
(Norman) under the Contracts (Rights of Third Parties) Act 1999. This legislation allows
contractual obligations to be enforced by non-parties, for whose benefit they have been
entered into. The problem in the present context is as to whether Olive’s covenant is
intended to benefit Norman or Marilyn. There is no authority on the question.
● Passing the benefit

The benefit of most contractual obligations can be assigned. The question to consider is
whether the benefit passes automatically if the benefited land is transferred.
Positive covenants have never been bedevilled by the complexity encountered with
restrictive covenants. So long as the positive covenant affects the land (‘touches and con-
cerns’), the courts have allowed the benefit to pass automatically.21 LPA section 78 (the
basis of annexation in many restrictive covenants) is sometimes cited as authority.
Whether or not section 78 is really needed, it usefully abrogates the old rule that the suc-
cessor in title had to have the same estate as the covenantee. This means that a tenant
of the covenantee can sue.22
It is difficult to say why the benefit of positive covenants is passed more readily than
restrictive covenants. Indeed, it isn’t clear whether the distinction is between passing at
law and passing in equity or between positive and restrictive covenants. Whatever the
distinction, is there a good reason why restrictive covenants attract a tougher rule?
Even though Federated Homes Ltd v Mill Lodge Properties Ltd 23 has made it easier
for the benefit of restrictive covenants to run, we shall see that the benefited land
must be identified. There is no such requirement for positive covenants.24 Can this be
21
Kumar v Dunning [1989] QB 193.
22
Smith and Snipes Hall Farm Ltd v River Douglas Catchment Board [1949] 2 KB 500.
23
[1980] 1 WLR 594.
24
Smith and Snipes Hall Farm Ltd v River Douglas Catchment Board [1949] 2 KB 500 at p. 508.
265
justified? We have seen that a good reason for identifying the benefited land is that it
may become necessary to negotiate about the covenant and that identifying the
benefited land can be a real problem for purchasers of the burdened land. For positive
covenants, purchasers of the burdened land are not bound and so the need for identifi-
cation is diminished.

We first consider the modern annexation rules for restrictive covenants, together with an
overall assessment of the passing of the benefit rules. This is followed by an explanation
of the reasons for not allowing positive covenants to run and a discussion of how the
covenants rules fit with those for leases and easements. The Law Commission25 is con-
sidering a totally new land obligations scheme to replace covenants; this impacts on
most of the issues discussed.
● Annexation
Annexation requires the covenant to be linked with specified land, so as to become
part of that land. The most commonly quoted case is Rogers v Hosegood,26 in which a
covenant with the vendors, ‘their heirs and assigns, and others claiming under them to
all or any of their lands adjoining or near to the said premises’ was effective to annex.
It may be contrasted with a covenant with the ‘vendors, their heirs and assigns’,27 which
makes no reference to successors in title and, indeed, no reference to any land: it fails
to annex.
For much of the twentieth century, it was assumed that annexation requires express
words. However, some commentators argued that annexation could be implied from LPA
section 78. This deems covenants ‘to be made with the covenantee and his successors in
title’. Initially, this was treated as a word-saving provision, intended to show only that the
benefit was not personal to the covenantee and could pass to a purchaser; it did not
mean that it in fact did pass. To the surprise of many,28 the Court of Appeal in Federated
Homes Ltd v Mill Lodge Properties Ltd 29 rejected this word-saving interpretation and held
that section 78 itself effected annexation. This was a radical change, as it meant that the
parties no longer had to insert careful wording. It seemed that annexation would virtu-
ally always operate.
It was soon observed that section 78 contains no provision for contrary intention
(unlike section 79, a similar provision relating to the burden of covenants). If section 78
25
Law Com CP 186.
26
[1900] 2 Ch 388.
27
Reid v Bickerstaff [1909] 2 Ch 305; Renals v Cowlishaw (1878) 9 Ch D 125; (1879) 11 Ch D 866.
28
See the convincing criticism by the leading practitioner and author in the area: Newsom (1981) 97 LQR
32.
29
[1980] 1 WLR 594.
266
could force unwanted annexation on the parties, this would be inexplicable. Fortunately,
the Court of Appeal in Crest Nicholson Residential (South) Ltd v McAllister 30 has held that
the final words of section 78(1) (‘land . . . intended to be benefited’) show that intention
is relevant, so that a contrary intention precludes annexation.
More significant is a second question considered in Crest Nicholson: does section 78
effect annexation only if the benefited land is identified by the covenant? The section is
silent as to this. Because section 78 has been held to effect a statutory annexation, it
might be thought that no such requirement exists. However, Federated Homes deliber-
ately left the question open. When the issue later arose in Crest Nicholson, the Court of
Appeal stressed how important it is for purchasers of the burdened land to be able to
identify the benefited land. This is essential for identifying the persons presently holding
the benefit, with whom negotiations about the covenant may need to be undertaken.
This is a very good point. Identification was held to be required. 17
How important is statutory annexation following Crest Nicholson? If the benefited land
Covenants
is identified, then it is quite likely that the wording will suffice to annex. In other words,
the section will apply when its use is least necessary! It may help to avoid any technical
objection that inappropriate wording has been used, but it would be unsafe to assume
that annexation will nearly always apply.
Should this narrowing of annexation be welcomed? It is not an easy question. On the
one hand, the stress on the needs of people dealing with the land is very welcome and
provides a powerful argument. If Crest Nicholson really provides greater certainty for
purchasers, then surely it is the right answer. Unfortunately, certainty remains elusive.
The first problem is that there may have been an assignment. Because assignment is in
a sale of the benefited land, it will usually be unknown to the owner of the burdened
land. It may be recalled that there can be an assignment even though the covenant does
not identify the benefited land, so the purchaser of the burdened land has no idea who
is the owner of the benefited land.
The second problem is that the Rogers v Hosegood formula for annexation, approved
in Crest Nicholson, fails miserably to provide the necessary certainty. The wording ‘all or
any of their lands adjoining’ tells us virtually nothing. If we were to guess what land is
benefited when the covenant is silent we would naturally say that it is the vendor’s
retained adjoining land – exactly the same as the Rogers v Hosegood formula.
It may be unfair to criticise Crest Nicholson for these problems. They may be too
ingrained within the cases for any court (at least below the House of Lords) to make the
necessary changes and provide the necessary certainty. The assignment principles, it may
be noted, represent a contractual-style analysis. It is difficult to pretend that they are
appropriate in the property context.
The Law Commission’s proposed land obligation scheme would require clear identifi-
cation of the benefited land. It would no longer be possible to assign the benefit. This
would provide an answer to the issues discussed in this section. It may be seen as accept-
ing and expanding upon the approach in Crest Nicholson.
30
[2004] 1 WLR 2409 at [34], approving the result in Roake v Chadha [1984] 1 WLR 40.
267
● Positive covenants
We will start by asking what legal policy requires that positive covenants (those involving
obligations to do something or spend money) should not be recognised as interests in
land. In Rhone, Lord Templeman argued that to recognise positive covenants would be
inconsistent with privity of contract ideas. This is unconvincing. Recognising a proprietary
right is almost invariably equivalent to accepting that the normal privity rules no longer
apply. His reasoning essentially assumes what he is seeking to prove.
Five lines of argument are more convincing.
(1) The first is that any change in such a clear legal principle would run counter to the
assumptions of those drafting covenants in millions of transfers. It would be difficult
to avoid the criticism that any change would impose obligations on those who have
been told (with impeccable legal advice) that they are not bound by covenants. The
law might be changed prospectively without such objections, but that is better
undertaken by Parliament.
(2) Next, it can be argued that need for positive covenants to run is less convincing than
for restrictive covenants. For the latter, it is easy to see that irreparable harm can be
done to adjoining land by inappropriate development of the burdened land. A
landowner might well be inhibited from selling part of a large landholding if restric-
tive covenants did not bind purchasers of the part sold. If Agatha covenants to repair
Bertha’s river banks (a positive covenant), matters are quite different. If Agatha fails
to repair, then Bertha can do the work herself. She faces financial loss rather than
irreparable damage to her land; this loss can be adequately compensated by a dam-
ages award against Agatha. However, this reasoning does not apply to all positive
covenants. If the covenant is to do something on the covenantor’s own land, then the
covenantee really needs the covenant to be performed. The facts of Rhone provide a
good example. Rather unusually, the covenantor’s roof extended over part of the
covenantee’s cottage; the covenant was to keep the roof in repair. Obviously, failure
to repair the roof would cause great problems for the cottage.
Rhone is illustrative of problems that apply whenever properties are dependent
upon each other, most especially within a block of flats. Take the roof of a block of
flats as an example. It is necessary to establish who is to maintain it and how the costs
are to be shared. Later purchasers of the flats cannot be sued on such obligations;
this rendered freehold flats unworkable. Fortunately, commonhold (see Chapter 3)
can now be used in such cases.
(3) A third argument concerns enforcement. Restrictive covenants are usually easy to
enforce: in a typical case there will be an order prohibiting breach. Enforcement of
positive covenants is more problematic: mandatory orders to do something are more
difficult to draft and to police. In general, the courts are more reluctant to issue
mandatory injunctions.
(4) Next, positive obligations are more intrusive upon purchasers. One reason for having
a limited range of property interests is to avoid the ownership of land becoming
too burdensome: it encourages a ready market in land and ensures that prospective
purchasers are not put off by the spectre of extensive liability. On the other hand, the
268
recognition of liability on positive covenants in leases does not seem to have had any
disastrous effect on the willingness of people to take assignments from landlords
or tenants.
(5) Finally, the running of the burden of positive covenants would involve difficult
practical issues. Thus Lord Templeman noted in Rhone that problems in the enforce-
ment of some leasehold covenants had required legislation to prevent abuses. A
good example of a practical issue for freehold covenants is whether tenants should
be bound. This poses no problem for restrictive covenants. If the owner cannot use
the premises as a shop, nor can a tenant. It is very different for positive covenants.
An obligation to repair could be very onerous for a tenant who has taken a lease for
a few months – students leasing a house for a year would be a good example. How-
ever, to exempt tenants altogether would enable simple avoidance by the expedient
of granting a long lease. The obvious solution is to distinguish between long and 17
short leases. Such a distinction cannot readily be made by the courts.
Covenants
These arguments go far to explain the current state of the law. However, it is plain
that the failure to allow positive covenants looks anomalous and can cause problems,
especially where commonhold is inappropriate. There are ways in which the rule can be
circumvented,31 but these are clumsy and inadequate. The Law Commission had little
hesitation in concluding that its new land obligations scheme should include both posi-
tive and restrictive covenants.
● Comparisons
In this section, we shall see how the present covenants principles compare with leasehold
covenants and easements and draw some conclusions.
Leasehold covenants
Covenants run in leases regardless of whether they are positive or negative. We need to
consider how this relates to the very different rules for freehold covenants.
One point is that leases are commonly used instead of the freehold when it is regarded
as essential that covenants should run. As seen above, this is commonly the case for
blocks of flats. The lease will be a long lease, often providing as much economic protec-
tion and value as the fee simple. Nevertheless, many people who buy flats want the fee
simple and this led to the introduction of commonhold in 2002.
Does this use of leases achieve the same results as if positive freehold covenants could
be enforced? If the burden of positive covenants were to run, then the flat owners could
sue each other. Leases permit the enforcement of covenants as between the landlord and
the tenant. In a block of flats, only the landlord can enforce the covenants – not the other
flat dwellers. The landlord might be an outside person with a valuable interest in the
premises or might be a company controlled by all the tenants. Especially in the latter
31
See p. 264 above, also the benefit and burden doctrine (pp. 79–80 above).
269
case, the covenants are intended to protect not so much the landlord’s interest but those
of the other tenants. It is a distinctly artificial use of the leasehold structure, even though
leasehold covenants can be made to work.
Another question is why the law allows positive leasehold covenants to run, when
freehold covenants currently do not. The answer can only be that leases involve a con-
tinuing relationship. When there are two parties sharing rights to a single property, that
relationship must be made to work. Take one simple example. A tenant pays rent. To say
that this is a positive obligation, not binding on an assignee of the lease would make the
relationship non-viable. Obviously, leasehold covenant rules ensure that the assignee is
liable for rent. Such a continuing relationship is less likely for freehold covenants, though
flats (for which commonhold is available) provide one clear exception.
Covenants and easements

This comparison is timely, as the Law Commission has been considering whether to
adopt a single structure covering both interests.
An initial point is that neither covenants nor easements recognise positive proprietary
obligations. The two are often regarded as very similar property rights affecting adjoining
landowners. Looked at in this way, the failure to recognise positive covenants fits in quite
neatly. That does not of course mean that it makes sense. If future legislation recognises
positive covenants as binding purchasers, then a right which fails as an easement might
be reworded so as constitute a land obligation. An example would be a right for central
heating radiators to be supplied with hot water. Probably, this would fail as an easement
because it is positive in nature.
Given that restrictive covenants and easements have many similarities, how and why
do we distinguish between them? When considering easements,32 we saw that easements
normally confer rights to do something: a right of access along a track, for example.
There are some old examples of negative easements (rights to light and support are the
best known), but these form a restricted category. Novel negative claims are not recog-
nised: they have to fit within the restrictive covenant rules.
Easements may originally have been regarded as the more important rights, with
restrictive covenants not being regarded as sufficiently significant to constitute property
interests until the nineteenth century. That would not justify continuing to distinguish
between them today. A slightly more convincing argument is that easements are usually
legal interests. That they bind purchasers automatically is justified because of their
practical importance (rights of access, for example) and because they can often be dis-
covered from physical clues on the land. By contrast, restrictive covenants are less import-
ant and are rarely (if ever) obvious from looking at the land. Requiring the purchaser to
have notice of them establishes a reasonable balance between the needs of claimant and
purchaser. However, that argument is of minimal weight now that land registration
applies to the huge majority of titles. Express easements and restrictive covenants both
have to be entered on the register. Neither will bind purchasers unless that entry is made.
32
See p. 237, above.
270
Much more important is that easements can be implied or arise from long use (pre-
scription). There are many examples of such easements in the cases. There are no examples
of implied covenants, such as an implied obligation not to build on land. In part, this may
be justified because it is easier to draw inferences from the current exercise of positive
rights (easements) than from the simple failure of a landowner to do something (restrictive
covenant). However, the more convincing explanation is that easements are frequently
important for efficient land use, whereas restrictive covenants are less important. There
is little reason for the law to lean over backwards to imply a covenant when the parties
have not regarded the issue as important enough to address it themselves. Accordingly,
there are good reasons for encouraging the creation of easements, but not covenants. If
we were to amalgamate easements and covenants, it is unlikely that we would wish there
to be implied or prescriptive covenants.
Other differences can also be identified. The passing of the benefit causes much more 17
difficulty for restrictive covenants than for easements. This may be explained because, in
Covenants
easements, the extent of the benefited land will usually be obvious. Where an easement
benefits a purchaser, the deed will identify the land sold. In any event the nature of a pos-
itive right is that both the documentation and the physical state of the land will normally
show what land is benefited. Accordingly, it is the nature of the restrictive covenant as
being negative in nature and normally benefiting the seller that justifies rules which
require identification of the benefited land.
A final difference is that the statutory jurisdiction to modify (or terminate) restrictive
covenants does not apply to easements. One reason for the legislation is that restrictive
covenants are frequently based on the nature of the neighbourhood, which can change
over time. Easements are less likely to inhibit useful development of land. Even so, it
might be argued that some easements are out of date and that a similar jurisdiction to
modify would be valuable, even if it would be less frequently invoked.
● Conclusions
The analyses in this chapter demonstrate the ambivalent position of covenants. Their
origin is obviously contractual, but then that is true of nearly all property interests!
We have not finally sorted out how far they should be incorporated into property law
and how far contractual principles (assignment is the best example) should continue to
operate. Fortunately, the Law Commission’s proposals will remove much of the present
contractual analysis.
It is far from clear that land law should continue to recognise freehold covenants as
a separate category of proprietary interests. It is arguable that they should be part of a
category of land obligations, which would include easements. This was considered by the
Law Commission and ultimately rejected. Three principal reasons may be identified. First,
easements are substantively different: a relatively restricted group of rights to use another’s
land; whereas land obligations are obligations with no limit as regards the nature of the
obligation. It is recognised that negative easements do not fit this analysis; no decision
has yet been taken as to their future role and attributes. Next, there are significant differ-
ences in, especially, their modes of creation. A few of these differences may be limited,
271
for example by extending the modification jurisdiction from covenants to easements.

Finally, the Law Commission had no wish to codify the law of easements. Though the
new land obligations regime will replace the present law on covenants, a similar exercise
for easements is not ‘a necessary or proportionate response’ to present problems.

C AS E
in this chapter:
Tulk v Moxhay [1843–60] All ER Rep 9 A
R
N
V I G AT O
POWERED BY
272
18 Mortgages

atherine and David are buying their first home together; it costs £150,000. Unless
C they are remarkably fortunate, they will have nothing like that amount of savings
and will have to borrow, say, £120,000. Lending that sort of money to a young couple
without security would be an extremely risky business; it wouldn’t happen. Any lender is
going to be troubled by the question of what happens if money is short because, for
example, Catherine loses her job or becomes pregnant and chooses to be at home with
her young family. Sometimes it is possible to obtain personal security: David and Catherine’s
parents may have savings and be prepared to guarantee repayment of the loan. In most
cases, that will not be viable. What the lender requires is security over the land being
bought: a mortgage. This means that if Catherine and David find it impossible to meet
the mortgage instalments, the lender can sell the house. So long as the value hasn’t
dropped significantly, the lender can be assured of getting its money back. This means
both that lenders are prepared to lend and that the rate of interest can be relatively low.
Even if a lender could be found to lend £120,000 unsecured, a very high interest rate
would have to be charged to cover the real risk of the capital not being repaid.
Mortgages are therefore of tremendous social and economic importance. There are
over 8 million households with mortgages: 40 per cent of the total in England and Wales.
Indeed, 80 per cent of houses are bought with mortgage loans. The burden of mortgage
expenses is significant – between a fifth and a quarter of all household income of first-
time buyers is spent on mortgage payments. Catherine and David are likely to be paying
£8,000 to £10,000 a year on mortgage instalments (assuming a repayment mortgage).
It should not be assumed that lenders look only at the value of the property: they will
rarely lend unless they think the borrowers can afford repayments. Though security is
vital, lenders do not want to get into the position of having to sell homes if it can be
avoided. If Catherine is earning £25,000 and David £20,000, then they should be able
to borrow up to around £180,000.
At this stage, it may be worth stressing terminology. The borrower is the person who
grants a mortgage: the mortgagor (or chargor). People often refer to ‘getting a mortgage’.
Technically, this is inaccurate. What the borrower obtains is a loan: the mortgage is the
273
security interest which the borrower grants to the lender. The lender is called the
mortgagee (or chargee). To aid comprehension, this chapter normally refers to lenders
and borrowers.
In this chapter, we consider the various forms of mortgage and the rights they confer
on lenders. Because borrowers tend to be in a weak position (they are often in desperate
need of money), there have long been protections against terms which may restrict rights
to recover the land or which are unfair. A more modern problem has involved landowners
who mortgage their land to guarantee others’ debts. This is common in a family setting.
There are many cases in which wives have mortgaged family homes as security for bank
loans to their husbands’ business, without appreciating the risks being taken. The home
will be lost if the business becomes insolvent, though the family will benefit if the busi-
ness prospers. This last area is one of the ‘Critical and controversial issues’ discussed later
in this chapter.

● Types of mortgage
Until 1925, the typical mortgage took the form of a transfer of the fee simple to the lender,
with the borrower getting it back once the loan was repaid. The security is obvious: the
lender owns the land, though the borrower would be in possession. This structure looks
odd to modern eyes: borrowers naturally regard themselves as owners. Indeed, this was
recognised by the courts, which treated the lender as having a security interest rather
than normal ownership. Accordingly, the courts insisted that the borrower always had a
right to redeem (to get the fee simple back), even if there was no contractual right.
Because this was so well known, mortgages frequently provided for repayment after
six months, though nobody expected repayment then. This has significance today: the
lender has a statutory power to sell the land only when ‘the mortgage money has become
due’. The six-month clause ensures that there are no problems in satisfying that require-
ment, though sale is unlikely unless the borrower has defaulted in making payments.
Nevertheless, the documentation is thoroughly misleading.
This transferring of the legal fee simple to and fro is unnecessarily complex. The 1925
legislation prohibits it, instead giving the lender a 3,000-year lease (though still with
power to sell the fee simple). This seems even more strange than transferring the fee
simple, though at least borrowers could proclaim themselves as owners.
The 1925 legislation also introduced the modern form of mortgage: the legal charge.
The charge constitutes a security interest, without creating any conventional property
interest (fee simple or lease) in the lender. The charge was an alternative to the 3,000-year
lease, though it soon became used in nearly all transactions. Since the Land Registration
Act 2002,1 it has been the only way of mortgaging a registered legal estate. Unfortunately,
this does not mean that we can forget the 3,000-year lease. The rights of lenders under
1
Section 23(1).
274
legal charges are those of a 3,000-year tenant. In particular, this explains the lender’s
right to possession. There is a strong argument that the time has come to ditch the long
lease completely and for statute to clarify the rights of the lender.
Mortgages can be either legal or equitable. There will be an equitable mortgage if there
is no deed, or a mortgage of an equitable interest. Another security interest is the charging
order, described in Chapter 12.2 It may be seen as part of the remedies of lenders as
much as part of the law of mortgages.
Mortgages are sometimes distinguished according to the arrangements for repay-
ment. In an instalment (or repayment) mortgage, a constant monthly payment will pay
off both interest and capital over the life of the mortgage, which might be up to 25 or
30 years. Other mortgages will involve interest only payments to the lender. Most pur-
chasers will wish to ensure that the loan is paid off, at the latest before they retire. As an
alternative to a repayment mortgage, this may be achieved by linking some form of invest- 18
ment to the mortgage. Endowment mortgages were very common until a few decades
Mortgages
ago: the borrower entered into a linked endowment life insurance policy. Unfortunately,
these policies often failed to provide enough money to pay off the loan; they have fallen
out of favour. A further point is that borrowers can choose between having an interest
rate fixed for a specified period (often up to five years) or a variable rate mortgage.
Especially when interest rates are low, the borrower may find it cheaper to have a variable
rate mortgage. It is unusual in that one party is allowed to change the terms of a con-
tract. However, it has been a very common form of mortgage and the courts have held
it valid, though they may imply a term that the right to change interest rates must be
exercised reasonably.3
● Vitiating factors
These are factors which prevent there being a valid mortgage in the first place. The
normal contract rules (mistake, misrepresentation) apply. However, many problems have
arisen in recent decades when a charge to a bank has been procured by the misrepre-
sentation or undue influence of a family member (not the bank). This is considered below,
under ‘Critical and controversial issues’.
● Rules protecting borrowers

There is frequently great inequality of bargaining power between borrower and lender.
The danger is that borrowers will agree to virtually any terms when they are in desperate
need of money in order to buy property or (in the older cases, especially) stave off financial
disaster. This has led to a series of controls over terms in mortgages. We will put them
into three categories: rules relating to redemption, common law rules relating to fairness
2
See p. 167 above.
3
Paragon Finance plc v Nash [2002] 1 WLR 685 at [36]–[41]; it is not difficult for the lender to satisfy that
requirement.
275
of terms, and statutory controls. Other rules specific to individual powers of lenders are
considered later, in the context of those powers.
Redemption
Because the courts view mortgages as security rights, they insist that it should always
be possible to redeem: to pay off the mortgage loan and get the property back in its
original state. Three types of term may fall foul of this principle.
Preventing or postponing redemption

Any attempt to preclude redemption will be struck down. This made good sense when
the lender obtained the fee simple. It is entirely possible, however, to postpone redemp-
tion. We should bear in mind the economics of mortgages. For example, entering into a
secured loan transaction may involve the lender in significant expenses. Although these
expenses are sometimes charged to the borrower, in other cases they are recovered by a
slightly higher interest rate over the life of the mortgage. To allow immediate redemp-
tion in the latter case might be unfair on the lender.
In Knightsbridge Estates Trust Ltd v Byrne,4 there was an unusually long postponement
for 40 years. The borrower had sought this in order to obtain a reduction in the interest
rate. The Court of Appeal upheld the postponement. It was material that it was a corporate
borrower and there was no hint of pressure or wrongful conduct by the lender. This seems
right, though an exceptionally lengthy postponement may be treated as equivalent to
losing the property.
This last point has caused problems for charges over leases, as some leases last for
relatively short periods. In Fairclough v Swan Brewery Co Ltd,5 a 17-year postponement
would end within weeks of the end of the lease. As the lender would get virtually nothing
back on redemption, the postponement was struck down.
Fairclough is difficult to justify. The real significance of postponing redemption is to
prevent repayment of the loan. No convincing reason was given in Fairclough for attack-
ing a freely negotiated 17-year loan arrangement. Is it meaningful to say that the lender
will get nothing much back at redemption? After all, after 17 years the lease ends anyway!
The image one gets is that the land belongs to the lender for 17 years and that is why the
borrower gets virtually nothing back. However, that imagery is quite inappropriate in the
modern structure of legal charges. The borrower still owns and occupies the charged
property (fee simple or lease) and the only significant question is whether a long-term
loan can be repaid early.
Options
Occasionally, the lender may be given an option to purchase the charged property. If this
involves purchase at market value, it seems harmless. Yet such an option was struck down
by the House of Lords in Samuel v Jarrah Timber & Wood Paving Corporation Ltd.6 The
4
[1939] Ch 441.
5
[1912] AC 565.
6
[1904] AC 323.
276
reason is that it prevents the borrower from getting the property back. It true that this is
inconsistent with the right to redeem, but there seems nothing wrong or unfair in the
transaction.
The Samuel principle has long been criticised. It will not be applied if the option is in
a transaction after the mortgage and genuinely separate from it.7 More recently, it has
been held that it does not apply if the option can properly be seen as part of a separate
transaction. In Warnborough Ltd v Garmite Ltd 8 land was sold, with the seller having
an option to repurchase. The purchaser borrowed the purchase money from the seller,
secured by a charge on the land. It was held that the option was part of the sale rather
than the mortgage, though the transactions were contemporaneous. This is an approach
more generous to lenders than previously seen, though it seems eminently justifiable.
The property after redemption 18

The courts have insisted that the borrower should be entitled not just to be able to get the
property back, but also to get it back in its original condition. A good example is provided
Mortgages
by the decision of the House of Lords in Bradley v Carritt.9 The mortgage was over shares
in a tea company and the lender was a tea broker. The mortgage required the borrower,
both before and after redemption, to use his best endeavours as shareholder to ensure
that the broker should act as agent for the sale of the company’s tea.
The House of Lords held (by a three to two majority) that the property would not be
redeemed in its original state: the borrower would still have to use the votes attached to
the previously mortgaged shares to benefit the lender. Accordingly, the term could not
be enforced after redemption. From a practical point of view, there doesn’t seem anything
wrong with the arrangement: there was no unfairness or taking advantage of the borrower.
However, the majority considered that the rule that the property must be redeemed in its
original state was central to the law of mortgages.
Although it followed earlier cases, Bradley was controversial. Nor was it the last word
on the matter. In Kreglinger v New Patagonia Meat & Cold Storage Co Ltd,10 the House
of Lords considered a right of pre-emption (a right to purchase if the seller chooses to
sell) over part of the mortgaged property. Because this right could apply after redemption,
Bradley might be thought to strike it down. However, the House of Lords in Kreglinger
was far more influenced by ideas of freedom of contract; the right was upheld. It has
always been difficult to explain the precise basis of the decision. The approach of Viscount
Haldane VC is generally thought to embody the preferable approach: there was a
‘collateral undertaking, outside and clear of the mortgage’.
This analysis does not require a wholly separate agreement. Rather, it states that there
is a security agreement and a pre-emption agreement. In truth, the courts are saying
little more than that they will treat some benefits as collateral. The analysis may be seen as
little more than a fig leaf hiding the courts’ embarrassment in departing from the Bradley
7
Reeve v Lisle [1902] AC 461. Simply using two documents on the same day does not work: Lewis v Frank
Love Ltd [1961] 1 WLR 261.
8
[2003] EWCA Civ 1544; [2004] 1 P&CR D18.
9
[1903] AC 253.
10
[1914] AC 25.
277
reasoning. Nevertheless, there will sometimes be a genuine collateral agreement. This

was true of Warnborough, in which Kreglinger was relied upon heavily. The option in
Warnborough was rightly seen as part of the sale agreement rather than the mortgage
agreement.
There are two difficult questions consequential upon Warnborough. The first is
whether Kreglinger is narrowed so that it applies only if there is such a genuine separate
agreement. That would make Kreglinger more comprehensible, though many would be
unhappy to give the unloved Bradley analysis a wider application. The second question
is whether, if the wider effect of Kreglinger survives, it extends to options. This is difficult
because options are more obviously inconsistent with the right to redeem. However, the
modern approach is to deride the option rule. As Lord Phillips MR has stated, it ‘no longer
serves a useful purpose’.
Fairness of terms: common law rules

The willingness of the courts to strike down unfair terms goes far to explain the dis-
enchantment with the redemption rules discussed above: they are no longer necessary
to protect borrowers.
The law is best illustrated by two twentieth-century decisions. In Cityland & Property
(Holdings) Ltd v Dabrah,11 there was a loan of £2,900, the borrower promising to repay
£4,533 over six years. No interest was specified, though the repayment equated to annual
interest of 19 per cent over the six years. The mortgage contained a common clause that
the capital would become due if the borrower defaulted on making payments. However, the
unusual wording of the mortgage meant that a default even early in the mortgage would
lead to the full £4,533 being payable (not the much smaller sum of £2,900 plus interest,
as would normally follow). On the facts, there was early default; the lender’s claim to
£4,533 represented 38 per cent interest. Goff J rejected the claim and substituted
interest at seven per cent.
The second case, Multiservice Bookbinding Ltd v Marden,12 again had unusual facts. A
loan of £36,000 was calculated in Swiss francs and repayable over ten years. Even though
the borrower had repaid £24,000, massive depreciation of sterling meant that the original
loan had grown to £63,000. Overall, the mortgagor’s obligations were equivalent to
annual interest of 33 per cent over the life of the mortgage: much more severe than 38 per
cent for a year or so in Cityland. Nevertheless, Browne-Wilkinson J held the terms valid:
this was a deal negotiated between businessmen who fully understood what they were
doing. That it turned out very disadvantageous to one of them was a risk they took.
What exactly is the test applied in these cases? Some of the dicta in Cityland support
a reasonableness requirement. Counsel relied upon this in Multiservice, where the agree-
ment was unreasonable because the lender got the twin benefits of a safe currency (Swiss
franc) and a high interest rate appropriate for a weaker currency (sterling). However,
Browne-Wilkinson J rejected reasonableness as the test. For the courts to intervene, the
11
[1968] Ch 166.
12
[1979] Ch 84.
278
term must be ‘unfair and unconscionable’. He explained this as requiring that the offend-
ing terms must be imposed in a ‘morally reprehensible manner’. This will usually involve
unfairly taking advantage of the borrower. It will be very difficult to prove if the borrower
has independent legal advice.
A very different principle is that covenants in unreasonable restraint of trade will be
struck down. This applies to all agreements, not just mortgages. It is particularly import-
ant for mortgages when a provider of goods is also the lender. There may be a ‘solus tie’,
an agreement to sell only the lender’s goods for a stipulated period. A good example is
Esso Petroleum Co Ltd v Harper’s Garage (Stourport) Ltd,13 in which Esso lent money and
required the purchase of their petrol for periods of 5 and 21 years. The House of Lords
held that ties are void if they are unreasonable, whether between the parties or as regards
the public interest. On that basis, the 5-year tie was upheld, but the 21-year tie struck
down. One important limitation on the principle is that it applies only if the borrower is 18
already trading from the premises: it will not apply to the funding of a purchase.
Mortgages
Fairness of terms: statutory rules
Loans to individuals are covered by the Consumer Credit Act 1974, section 140A. This
provision applies to any ‘unfair’ term or exercise of powers (or other conduct) by the
lender. The court has wide powers to strike down terms, amend them and generally
correct the unfairness. Section 140A was inserted by the Consumer Credit Act 2006,
replacing control over extortionate terms. Until we have cases, it is difficult to say what
difference there is between ‘extortionate’ and ‘unfair’ and whether the ‘unfair’ test is much
different from the common law test.
The Unfair Terms in Consumer Contracts Regulations 199914 also apply to loans to
individuals, acting in a non-business capacity. However, there are restrictions on circum-
stances in which the Regulations apply (they are unlikely to apply to objections to the
interest rate, for example) and it seems unlikely that they will be significant now that we
have an unfairness test in the consumer credit legislation.
● Rights and remedies of the lender

This topic is vitally important, as it gives the lender the ability to enforce the security. We
will consider three areas. Foreclosure applies once the mortgage money is due (likely
to be soon after the loan); the right to possession applies regardless of default; sale applies
once there has been default. It is confusing that they are triggered in such different ways.
It may be noted that these rights and remedies can be amended by the agreement
between the parties.
Foreclosure
Foreclosure is the termination by the court of the borrower’s right to redeem. It results
in the lender becoming the absolute owner of the property – a drastic result! It was the
13
[1968] AC 269.
14
SI 1999 No 2083.
279
traditional remedy for lenders, but today it is rare and so is considered very briefly. It will
be ordered only after the borrower has been given an extended period to come up with
the money.
The real vice of foreclosure was that the lender became owner even if the property was
worth a lot more than what was owed. For many years, the courts have had jurisdiction
to order a sale rather than foreclosure, so that risk is minimised. Even where foreclosure
has been ordered, it can be set aside if the borrower later finds the money. Even apart
from these disadvantages, few modern lenders want to end up owning the property.
Possession
The right to possession is much more important. We now consider four aspects of the
right: (a) when there is a right to possession; (b) statutory limits on the right; (c) the
reasons for taking possession; and (d) obligations flowing from taking possession.
The right to possession

Borrowers expect to have possession and this is the normal position. A couple buying a
home with a building society loan do not expect the lender to possess their new home!
It is a strange feature of the present law that the borrower’s possession has no clear legal
basis, though some modern charges explicitly permit possession until default; occasion-
ally, the courts have implied this.
The standard legal analysis is that lenders have an immediate right to possession. This
is a direct result of the fiction of a 3,000-year lease. A tenant is entitled to possess and so
therefore is a chargee. As Harman J observed, the right arises ‘before the ink is dry on the
mortgage’.15
It is surprising that this right to possession is not linked to any default by the borrower.
Furthermore, there is no general common law control over exercising the right. The
borrower is given the opportunity to pay off the debt within a very short period, but
otherwise possession will be ordered pretty well automatically.16 It may well be thought
that the right fails to reflect the legitimate expectations of borrowers.
Statutory limits
Given the comments above, it is unsurprising that the court is given discretion to post-
pone possession of dwelling houses. This important jurisdiction is considered below,
under ‘Critical and controversial issues’.
Reasons for taking possession

In the great majority of cases, possession is taken as a prelude to selling the land. In
practical terms, it is virtually impossible to sell land unless the purchaser is given vacant
possession (excepting land sold subject to a lease). It follows that a lender has to take
possession in order to get purchasers interested. The lender’s power to sell requires the
borrower to be in default, so there will in practice usually be default before possession is
sought.
15
Four-Maids Ltd v Dudley Marshall (Properties) Ltd [1957] Ch 317 at p. 320.
16
Birmingham Citizens Permanent BS v Caunt [1962] Ch 883.
280
In other cases, possession may be sought in order that the lender can manage the
property. This may be relevant if the borrower fails to take proper care of it, such that the
lender fears that the value of the security may be endangered. Alternatively, the lender
may want to lease the property and apply the rent to cover interest payments (rare for
residential property). Such cases are exceptional: most lenders are large financial institu-
tions, for whom the idea of managing thousands of properties is unattractive.
Obligations on lenders
The law does not allow the lender to benefit from both interest on the loan and posses-
sion. It follows that the lender must pay any rent received to the borrower (less unpaid
interest). The following example shows how the rules work if the property is kept by the
lender. Suppose Adrian has charged his shop to Basil as security for a £150,000 loan. Basil
takes possession and runs the shop himself, making a profit of £50,000 a year. Had the 18
shop been leased, a rent of £15,000 a year could have been achieved. Basil has to pay
Adrian £15,000 a year (less any unpaid interest). The rest of the profit (£35,000) can be
Mortgages
kept by Basil: it represents Basil’s skill and work in running the shop.17
This example shows that the lender cannot view possession as a route to making a
quick profit. Indeed, the lender in possession has an obligation to obtain income from
the land. However, no liability is incurred where possession is taken in order to sell:
nobody expects the land to be leased for a short period until the sale goes through.
Assessing possession
Such a broad right to possess is, arguably, quite unjustified today. It fails to give effect to
most people’s expectations, especially when there is no default. There may be a good
case for allowing possession in some cases where there is no default, but the lender
should prove good cause to a court.
Sale
If the borrower defaults on loan repayments, such that it becomes apparent that future
payments are unlikely to be made, then the lender may well wish to sell the charged
land. This is the most effective way of realising the security. As has been noted, there is
no need for court approval of sale. However, possession will nearly always have to be
sought before sale is feasible; this, if contested, almost invariably requires a court order.
Unlike foreclosure and possession, the power of sale is statutory (originally it was a very
common express power). There are two tests for when the land can be sold. The first
establishes when the power arises. Normally, this is all that the purchaser is concerned
with. The second establishes when a power is exercisable. This is primarily of importance
as between the lender and borrower: any sale when the power is not exercisable con-
stitutes a breach of duty by the lender. A borrower who acts in time can stop the sale. If
the sale has been completed, then the borrower can claim against the lender for any loss
caused. The purchaser is under no obligation to check that the power is exercisable and
is free from liability, unless aware that there is a problem.18
17
White v City of London Brewery Co (1889) 42 Ch D 237 (pub).
18
LPA, s 104(2); Bailey v Barnes [1894] 1 Ch 25.
281
When does the power arise? LPA section 101 gives the answer: when the mortgage
debt is due. It is common for mortgages to state that the money is due after six months.
This is distinctly fictitious: we are not considering when the sum is expected to be paid.
The practical point, however, is that the power arises at a very early stage, which pur-
chasers can easily ascertain.
The power is exercisable only when there has been real default. This is the province of
LPA section 103. There are three possibilities:
(1) three months’ notice requiring capital repayment has been given;
(2) interest is in arrear for two months; or
(3) some other breach has occurred.
These are matters that it would be awkward for purchasers to go into. For example, look-
ing closely at the payment record of a borrower (the details of which might be contested)
is the last thing a purchaser wants to get involved with. Most cases involve failure to pay
interest. It may be noted that the power does not disappear because the arrears have
been paid off, although possession of dwelling houses is unlikely to be obtained in such
cases.
A vitally important aspect of sale is that the lender can keep only what is owing
(including arrears of interest and costs of selling). The entire balance has to be paid to
the borrower. There is no question of the lender making a profit: this makes sale more
acceptable than foreclosure. If the sale price does not cover the amount due, then the
borrower can be sued for the difference. Often, of course, there will be insufficient assets
to make this viable.
The fact that the lender keeps only what is due reduces the incentive to sell for the
best price, so long as the debt is covered. Yet the borrower has a crucial interest in the
best price being paid. What duties are owed by the lender? For a start, the lender is not
a trustee of the power: it is exercised for the lender’s benefit. It was settled in the 1970s
in Cuckmere Brick Co Ltd v Mutual Finance Ltd,19 that the lender owes a duty of care to
obtain the proper price. On the facts, the sale publicity failed to mention the existence
of planning permission, which would enhance the value of the land. The lender was
not personally at fault: it was the estate agent who was to blame, but the lender was held
responsible for that.
Subsequent cases have denied the existence of a more general duty of care – that
would sit uneasily with power’s being exercised for the lender’s benefit. This is illustrated
by the more recent decision of the Court of Appeal in Silven Properties Ltd v Royal Bank
of Scotland plc.20 Here it was argued that planning permission should have been sought
for the land prior to selling it, against the background that planning permission would
enhance its value considerably. That argument was rejected by the Court of Appeal. The
lender can choose when to sell, even if this involves selling at the ‘worst possible
moment’. This necessarily meant that there was no need to delay to seek planning per-
mission: there is no obligation to improve the property or increase its value. The only
19
[1971] Ch 949.
20
[2004] 1 WLR 997 at [15].
282
duty is to get the proper price at the time it is decided to sell. Once a decision to sell has
been taken, then the land must be marketed in such a way as to attract a proper price –
insisting on sale within an unreasonably short period (a week, for example) is very likely
to constitute a breach of duty.
A final and rather different point is that the court has jurisdiction to order sale at any
time. Though a lender’s decision not to sell is not a breach of duty, the court can still
order sale. An example is provided by Palk v Mortgage Services Funding plc,21 where the
debt exceeded the value of the property. The lender wanted to delay sale, in the hope
that the value would increase in the future. The intention was to lease the property in the
meantime, though the rent would be insufficient to cover all the interest. The borrower
wanted the property sold in order to avoid what was seen as an open-ended personal
liability to pay the mounting difference between the property value and what was due.
The Court of Appeal sided with the borrower, regarding the lender as taking a one-way 18
bet on the future of property prices: they benefited if prices increased, whereas the
Mortgages
borrower would face liability if prices were to fall or stay constant. Accordingly, sale was
ordered. This may be regarded as a rather harsh outcome as regards the lender. The
burden on the borrower is only realistic if the borrower has (or will have) sufficient funds
to pay off the balance of the debt. Those circumstances will not be common; usually, the
real risk in delaying sale will be incurred by the lender.

● Misrepresentation and undue influence
Mortgages often aid the funding of small businesses. Although we may think about mort-
gages as being about the funding of house purchases, they can be found in any context
where money is borrowed. A problem for many small businesses is that they possess
insufficient assets for use as security. The only assets belong to the individuals running the
company. The most common asset is a family home, which is frequently jointly owned
with a spouse or partner. It will be necessary for that spouse or partner to join in the
mortgage. In other cases, parents or children may have assets that can be charged.
There is nothing wrong with any of this. Finance is crucial to very many small busi-
nesses and relatives are often happy to assist. For spouses and partners, the family pros-
perity is often dependent on the success of a business run by one of them. The courts
have recognised that it would be harmful if the law made it difficult for small businesses
to raise money in this way. From a narrow financial angle the charge looks disadvant-
ageous to the chargor, but overemphasis on this would risk endangering both the avail-
ability of finance and the free will of the parties involved, as well as the likely long-term
financial benefit of the chargor.
On the other hand, problems do arise. Two will be mentioned. The first is that the
charge may make no sense at all. This might be because the business is clearly going to
21
[1993] Ch 330.
283
fail, so that the charge will bring at best temporary relief, or if the terms of the charge are
such that little benefit is gained in return for extensive liability. These are circumstances
in which few rational landowners, even if fully willing to assist family members, would
enter into charges. The second problem is where the borrower exerts undue influence on
(or makes a misrepresentation to) the chargee. The borrower is frequently desperate to
get money to advance the business, the more so if its financial position is weak. Pressure
may be put on the spouse/partner/family member to go ahead with the charge.
There is no general duty on lenders to advise chargors: they are expected to be aware
of what they are doing and to take their own decisions.22 The principal legal develop-
ments are based upon the second of the above problems. Misrepresentation and undue
influence are vitiating factors which enable a contract to be set aside. However, mort-
gages involve an awkward tripartite relationship: lender, borrower and chargor. The
charge is between lender and chargor, while the misrepresentation is between borrower
and chargor.
To provide an example, suppose Erica and Fred are living together. Erica runs a busi-
ness and Fred agrees to charge the family home to secure a new loan to the business by
Grasping Finance plc. The home is owned by Fred (the principles are the same if it is
jointly owned). Erica, knowing that Fred is worried about the extent of liability, tells Fred
that just £10,000 is involved. She fails to say that the charge also covers existing debts
owed by the business, which amount to £25,000. Grasping is wholly unaware of Erica’s
misrepresentation.
Should Grasping be affected by Erica’s conduct? Arguments that Erica should be
treated as the agent of Grasping in getting Fred’s agreement have been rejected as arti-
ficial. Instead, in Barclays Bank plc v O’Brien 23 the House of Lords held that the lender
(Grasping) will be affected if it has notice of the conduct. It is now accepted that this is
an unconventional use of the doctrine of notice. The doctrine usually applies where a
purchaser has notice of a claim to the land: if Grasping buys land from Erica, it may be
bound by notice of a claim by Fred. In the present context, it simply isn’t the case that
Fred has an interest in Erica’s land; nor is Grasping a purchaser from Erica. Furthermore,
we shall see that Grasping will be protected if it takes specified steps to ensure that Fred
is given appropriate advice. The O’Brien rules make sense, but they are not a conven-
tional application of the doctrine of notice.
The principles established in O’Brien gave rise to a mass of litigation and the House of
Lords returned to the question in Royal Bank of Scotland plc v Etridge (No 2).24 Today,
we can turn directly to the rules laid down in Etridge. An opening comment is that they
have been laid down in a detailed fashion which reads more like statute than case law.
The wrong
Misrepresentation causes no special problems, but the House of Lords redefines the re-
quirements of undue influence. This is principally a contract issue and will be considered
22
National Westminster Bank plc v Morgan [1985] AC 686 rejected arguments based upon inequality of
bargaining power between lender and chargor.
23
[1994] 1 AC 180.
24
[2002] 2 AC 773. The following analysis is based on Lord Nicholls, with whom all the Law Lords agreed.
284
briefly. Some relationships (such as lawyer and client) give rise to a presumption of undue
influence, but this has little relevance for mortgages. Otherwise, there are two require-
ments. The first is a relationship of trust and confidence and the second is that the trans-
action is not readily explicable by the relationship of the parties. The required relationship
is readily shown – the mere fact that one person guarantees another’s debt (without pay-
ment) will usually suffice.
It is the nature of the transaction which is more important: it is enough that there is
‘a disadvantage sufficiently serious to require evidence to rebut the presumption that in
the circumstances of the parties’ relationship, it was procured by the exercise of undue
influence’.25 This test is not easily applied. Though a charge is superficially detrimental,
it is exactly the sort of transaction that family members often enter into willingly. The
House of Lords recognises that it is not enough to prove simply that one spouse has guar-
anteed the other’s debts: this is not indicative of wrongful conduct. On the other hand, 18
supporting a plainly failing business may well call for explanation. It remains to be seen
Mortgages
how far the approach in Etridge will limit undue influence.
Putting the lender on inquiry

When will the lender be put on inquiry, so that further steps must be taken to counter
any wrongful conduct? Etridge recognised that the courts had a choice between two
approaches in dealing with this. One is to identify circumstances in which there is a very
real risk of wrongful conduct by the borrower and then to provide onerous controls over
the charge. If such onerous controls were applied too widely, this would make charges
unworkable and give rise to adverse economic results. The alternative is to cast the net
of suspicion far more widely, but to provide a lighter touch structure of advice for the
chargor; this still goes some way to providing protection for chargors.
It is extremely difficult to identify those charges which involve a very real risk of wrong-
ful conduct, so the House of Lords opted for the second approach. The result is that
the lender will be put on inquiry in most cases. Lord Nicholls appears to consider that a
lender is put on inquiry whenever there is a non-commercial surety arrangement:26
this will include all family relationships. It possesses the merit of catching cases such as
Credit Lyonnais Bank Nederland NV v Burch27 (discussed below), in which an employee
guaranteed her employer’s loan. The rules will not apply, however, if there is a joint loan
to the borrower and chargor. There are many situations in which family members obtain
a joint loan, whether to pay for an extension of the house or other substantial expendi-
ture.28 On the other hand, a loan to a husband’s company, where the chargor wife is a
director or shareholder, is not treated as a joint loan, with the result that the lender is put
on inquiry.
25
Etridge at [25].
26
At [87].
27
[1997] 1 All ER 144.
28
CIBC Mortgages plc v Pitt [1994] 1 AC 200 (paying off a small existing mortgage and the purchase of
a second home).
285
Consequences of being put on inquiry

In Etridge, the House of Lords recognised the need to establish procedures whereby the
effect of any wrongful conduct practised on chargors could be countered, while pro-
viding lenders with some certainty that the charge is effective. A lender who does not
faithfully follow the procedures is at great risk. In assessing these procedures, it must be
remembered that lenders are put on inquiry in vast numbers of charges, most of which
will involve no wrongdoing.
In O’Brien, it had been contemplated that the lender would interview and advise the
chargor. This did not work: experience showed that lenders preferred to leave this role
to lawyers. The House of Lords in Etridge recognised that it would be lawyers who would
be advising the chargor. There was a widespread impression that the quality of advice
was frequently poor; Etridge set out to counter this problem.
Selection of solicitor
A crucial element of the new rules is that the solicitor is advising the chargor, with
obligations owed directly to the chargor. A first stage is that the lender must write to
the chargor, explaining that legal advice is essential and will preclude any later objection
to the charge. The chargor must be asked to nominate a solicitor. The lender will then
provide the solicitor with details of the loan and the borrower’s current indebtedness.
In the rare case in which the lender suspects wrongdoing by the borrower, the solicitor
must be told about the relevant circumstances.
The most controversial issue is whether it is appropriate for the borrower’s solicitor
to give this advice. From one point of view, an independent solicitor is necessary for
impartial advice to be given. It is difficult for the borrower’s solicitor to divorce the duty
to the chargor from involvement in the loan transaction on behalf of the borrower. This
factor probably explains many earlier examples of perfunctory and unsatisfactory advice.
However, two arguments persuaded the House of Lords that use of the borrower’s
solicitor is acceptable. First, that person will frequently already be known to and act for
the chargor. This is likely to be the person whom the chargor most trusts to give advice.
Indeed, that solicitor will know more about the circumstances and usually be in a better
position than an outsider to give the best advice. Second (not to be minimised), it will
cost considerably more to bring in an outside solicitor who will have much work to do
before being in a position to give advice. It may be thought that the present law is not
ideal, but may provide the best compromise.
A related question is whether the lender’s solicitor can be used. This seems to be
accepted if the solicitor is simply settling the formalities of the charge, but not if pro-
viding more substantial legal services to the lender.
What the solicitor must do

Again, a crucial element is that the solicitor owes the chargor a quite independent duty.
A solicitor who feels constrained by a conflict of interest should decline to act. An import-
ant minimum requirement is that there must be a personal meeting with the chargor in
the absence of the borrower. This is obviously important when attempting to counter any
wrongdoing by the borrower.
286
The solicitor must explain the role of legal advice and obtain confirmation that the
chargor wishes him or her to act. Advice has to be given as to the nature of the docu-
ments and the effects of default (loss of the home). Some assessment of the commercial
situation is required, though there are obvious limits on lawyers’ skills in this context.
Plainly, if the borrower’s business is failing, then it would be pointless for the chargor
to guarantee debts. It needs to be stressed that the chargor has a choice. Finally, the
chargor must give authority for the solicitor to confirm to the lender that appropriate
advice has been given.
These steps should go some way to avoid hasty or ill-advised decisions to enter into
charges. How far will they counter misrepresentation or undue influence? The nature of
the advice should correct at least some misrepresentations, but undue influence is more
problematic. It is stressed that the solicitor has no duty to search out undue influence. To
do that would require probing questions about the nature of relationships which are 18
likely to offend most chargors and be more appropriate to a police investigation.
Mortgages
The greatest difficulty arises when the solicitor advises against entering into a charge
and yet the chargor is determined to proceed. In some cases this will be because the
chargor has a different set of priorities. The solicitor may believe that a 75 per cent risk
of business failure does not justify a charge. The chargor (usually the wife of the bor-
rower) may accept that risk, reasoning that financial hardship will follow anyway if the
business fails and the borrower is bankrupt as a result. As expressed by Sir Richard Scott
V-C:29 ‘But the purpose of advisers is to advise. The recipient of advice does not have to
accept it.’ Yet there is a real danger that the undue influence that has been practised may
be such as to make the chargor impervious to legal advice. We cannot be confident that,
just because good advice has been given, the effects of undue influence have been
countered.
The difficulty facing the solicitor is that there is no sure way of knowing whether
the chargor has taken a truly independent decision or is subject to overbearing undue
influence. Some guidance comes from the pre-Etridge decision of the Court of Appeal in
Credit Lyonnais Bank Nederland NV v Burch.30 An employee had guaranteed repayment
of her employer’s loan. What made this particularly harsh was that the charge covered
all sums owed by the employer (potentially up to £270,000; £60,000 was actually
claimed) when just £20,000 was being added to what the borrower could borrow. The
court had no hesitation in holding that there was undue influence and that the bank,
aware that the chargor was an employee, could not enforce the charge. What is interest-
ing is an obiter dictum of Millett LJ that the result would be the same even if legal advice
had been received: any lawyer should in the circumstances have refused to continue to
act for the chargor in the face of such an inexplicable transaction. But why should an
employee be prohibited from assisting an employer for whom they have worked for
nearly a decade, in circumstances in which their life revolved around their work and
they enjoy a close friendship with the employer? Few of us would do so, but should it be
outlawed?
29
Banco Exterior Internacional SA v Thomas [1997] 1 WLR 221 at p. 229.
30
[1997] 1 All ER 144.
287
The question today is how far this survives Etridge, which takes a less paternalistic
approach. However, there are indications that a solicitor who believes that there has been
wrongful conduct should either make further inquiries or withdraw from the transaction.
Merely feeling that it is a most disadvantageous transaction would not be enough to
impugn the transaction (or make the solicitor liable).
The solicitor’s certificate

The final piece in the jigsaw is that the solicitor gives the lender a certificate that the
charge has been properly explained. This is conclusive in favour of the validity of the
charge, at least unless the lender has reason to believe that proper advice has not been
given. If the appropriate advice has in fact not been given, it is the solicitor who will be
liable to the chargor.
Assessing Etridge
Does Etridge provide adequate protection for chargors and lenders? It is difficult to answer
this with confidence, as there are few post-Etridge cases. If we accept that charges of the
family home are very important to both the national and family economies, then some
risks have to be run. It would be unrealistic to expect that any system would spot every
example of wrongdoing. But do we do enough to protect chargors? This involves asking
whether it is appropriate to use lawyers to give what is fundamentally economic advice,
as well as whether allowing the borrower’s solicitor to advise the chargor takes too much
of a risk. As so often in assessing legal rules, it is all a question of balancing differing objec-
tives: each lawyer (and reader) will have his or her own reaction.
A rather different point flows from the successful use of Etridge to defeat a lender’s
claim. The chargor may have won a battle rather than the overall war. The chargor’s over-
all objective will be to keep the family home. Yet when lenders seek possession and sale,
this is invariably because the borrower cannot afford the mortgage instalments. If the
land cannot be sold, then the borrower will almost certainly be bankrupt. This means
that the trustee in bankruptcy can usually obtain sale of jointly owned land under the
Trusts of Land and Appointment of Trustees Act 1996.31 The chargor will lose their home,
though at least they will receive their share of the proceeds of sale. This outcome was
established in Alliance and Leicester plc v Slayford.32 The point to stress is that the lender’s
remedies are cumulative: if one (sale as mortgagee) proves useless, then others (sale on
bankruptcy) can still be pursued.
● Statutory limits on the lender’s right to possession

It has been seen that the lender has a right to possession. If the lender seeks possession,
the only common law defence is to pay off the capital – not much use to a borrower who is
struggling to meet the monthly interest instalments! The Administration of Justice Act (AJA)
31
See Chapter 10, p. 164, above.
32
(2000) 33 HLR 743.
288
1970 section 36 introduced a discretion to adjourn proceedings or delay possession. We

should note that this applies only to dwelling houses; there is no similar protection for
other property.
There are two types of issue that have dominated the cases: what types of mortgage
are covered and how readily the courts will refuse possession. In addition, there are prob-
lems regarding the circumstances when the statutory protection operates.
Types of mortgage covered

We have seen that there may be instalment mortgages (where capital is paid off over the
life of the mortgage), endowment mortgages (where a linked endowment insurance policy
pays off the capital) and interest only mortgages – as well as the nineteenth-century form
of mortgage which was silent as to duration. AJA section 36 applies to all of these. The
single form of mortgage held to be outside the protection is a charge to secure a bank 18
overdraft. Without considering the technical reasons for this, it may be observed that
Mortgages
bank overdrafts are of an essentially temporary nature. The purpose of AJA section 36 is
to deal with short-term problems in long-term arrangements.
Nearly all mortgages provide that the entire capital shall become due if there is default
in paying interest. This is part of the armoury of weapons available to the lender in the
event of default, though chances of payment are minimal. AJA section 36 provides that
a court order may be made if the ‘mortgagor is likely to be able within a reasonable
period to pay any sums due’. The words ‘any sums due’ will include the entire capital
because of the provision just described. It will virtually never be the case that a borrower,
Betty, struggling with paying interest (perhaps £500 monthly on a £120,000 loan) will
be able to repay capital (£120,000 plus arrears) within a short period. This threatened
to make the protection illusory: Parliament had overlooked the problem and the result
was clearly unintended. Fortunately AJA 1973 section 8 amends section 36 so that such
accelerated liability is irrelevant. If Betty has missed four payments, the question is
whether she can afford £500 a month plus (over a reasonable period) arrears of £2,000.
The exercise of the discretion

If the borrower can pay the arrears (plus current instalments) within a reasonable period,
then the court can intervene. It seems that Parliament had in mind problems such as
unemployment or ill health, which would have a short-term effect on ability to make
repayments. The Payne Committee, which recommended the statutory discretion,
thought that postponement for six months would normally suffice.
For several years, it appeared that the question for the court was whether the arrears
could be paid off within, at most, around two years. This was radically changed by
Cheltenham & Gloucester BS v Norgan,33 probably the most important AJA case. The
Court of Appeal held that the ‘reasonable period’ allowed in AJA section 36 can extend
to the intended life of the mortgage. This is tremendously important. If there is a 25-year
loan of (say) £100,000, it is easy for arrears of £25,000 to accumulate before the case
33
[1996] 1 WLR 343.
289
comes for final decision. Paying £25,000 over two years will be a hopeless task for some-
body who has had difficulty in paying £500 per month. However, over the 25 years of
the mortgage, the extra monthly instalments may be no more than £125 per month.
If the borrower has significant earnings, paying a total of £625 may be entirely feasible.
It is apparent that Norgan represents a more generous approach. However, the bor-
rower has to produce a budget showing earnings that will enable the new instalments
(£625 in the above example) to be paid: the court will not accept vague promises. There
are other elements of the decision that could work to the borrower’s disadvantage. In the
past, it was common for several postponements to be ordered and for the borrower to
fail to pay the sums agreed in any of them: years would pass by while arrears mounted.
In Norgan, it was said that the new approach should be to allow just one chance; there-
after the land should be sold.
Whatever the period, how does the court decide whether to exercise its discretion?
Crucial factors are the extent of the arrears and the earning power of the borrower.
Problems frequently arise when relationships break down. Two incomes may have
enabled payments to be made in the past, but are often insufficient when two homes
have to be supported. Social security benefits may sometimes assist, but often the finan-
cial position is hopeless. In these cases, the courts will give possession to the lender. This
is illustrated by First National Bank plc v Syed,34 in which the borrowers had failed to
make payments (about £100 per month) for several years. The borrowers now offered to
pay £150 per month, but because of large arrears the monthly interest now exceeded
that sum. In other words, the debt would further increase even if the borrower was able
to afford the £150. The court had no hesitation in holding that there was no jurisdiction
to postpone possession.
A rather different impact of the legislation concerns capital repayment. The borrower
may argue that the entire loan may be paid off by selling the property and making a cap-
ital payment (rather than monthly instalments, as in the Norgan context). This is nicely
illustrated by Bristol & West BS v Ellis.35 The borrower owed around £77,000 (plus costs).
She wished to postpone sale for three to five years while her children were completing
their education. She was willing to repay £5,000 immediately and had valuations of
£80,000 and £85,000 for the house. Even though the only monthly payments she could
afford would be of interest (paid by social security), she argued that the land was worth
significantly more than the debt.
The Court of Appeal thought it possible, in principle, to postpone sale for the period
the borrower had in mind. Their major concern was with the safety of the security. If the
lender could be assured of being repaid, then the lender could not object to waiting for
a few years. On the facts, the amount due was far too close to the valuation of the land
for the court to be confident that the loan would be fully repaid if the land were sold
within a few years. The court was well aware that valuations are sometimes unrealistically
high, quite apart from the risks of land values dropping over a short period. There are
34
[1991] 2 All ER 250.
35
(1996) 73 P&CR 158.
290
also, of course, costs involved in selling land and a danger that future default in making
interest payments might cause the debt to grow.
In some cases the court may doubt whether a future sale will materialise: the borrower
may be grasping at a straw to stave off the evil day when the home is lost. Suppose
Sandra has borrowed £120,000 from Big Bank and her house is worth £140,000. Sandra
has lost her job and accepts that she cannot afford the monthly payments. When Big
Bank seek possession, her defence is that she should sell the land (without the delay pro-
posed by the borrower in Ellis). There is some merit in this. Sales by owners in possession
often attract higher prices than sales by lenders: the property can be better presented by
a person living there. But the danger is that Sandra may in fact delay sale. Asking, say,
£180,000 for the house will be effective in putting off most likely buyers. The chances
are that the house will not be sold and that the arrears will mount up. A borrower who
really wants to sell will have had plenty of opportunity to do so before possession pro- 18
ceedings start. In some cases, the land has been on the market for some time; again, this
Mortgages
indicates that a sale by the borrower is unlikely to materialise.
A related point is that lenders generally regard it as essential to take possession before
advertising the land for sale. What if the borrower says that they will stay there and co-
operate while the lender markets the property? This is attractive for the borrower because
it delays the time at which possession has to be given up and may result in a higher price
being received. Unfortunately, life is not so simple. There is a real danger that the bor-
rower will fail to support a sale, knowing that the sooner a sale results then the sooner
the home will be lost. Even with a co-operative borrower, prospective purchasers may
well be put off. They may foresee the risk of the borrower refusing to move out, which
at best would delay the sale. This is likely to make it more difficult to sell the house, cer-
tainly at the best price. Conventional wisdom is that it is almost essential for the person
in charge of the sale (whether it be borrower or, as here, lender) to be in possession.
Problems in the ambit of the protection

Two factors are assumed by AJA, section 36. These are that the court will always be
involved and that there are always arrears. Both these assumptions have been shown to
be false.
Asserting possession normally requires a court order: criminal law prohibits violence to
property or person (or threats) to secure entry.36 However, Horsham Properties Group Ltd
v Clark 37 illustrates that sale can be effected without taking possession. It was held that
the purchaser was entitled to possession. The AJA was inapplicable, as the claim was by
a purchaser who was not bound by the mortgage. This result seems wholly inconsistent
with the statutory policy, though it is an inevitable consequence of the legislation.
Counsel tried to refute it with a human rights argument, but this failed: an attack on the
long-standing power of sale, based on terms agreed between lender and borrower, was
hopeless.
36
Criminal Law Act 1977, s 6.
37
[2009] 1 WLR 1255.
291
The reason why sales without possession are uncommon (save where the house has
been let to tenants) is that few people are interested in purchasing land occupied by the
borrower: this sharply reduces the price that can be obtained. It remains to be seen
whether a sale in these circumstances breaches the borrower’s obligation to take care to
obtain a proper price.
In any event, the Ministry of Justice is consulting on a proposal to require a court order
before most sales of owner occupier housing, where the loan was for its purchase.38 It is
not thought that the problem revealed by Horsham is likely to be exploited before this
proposal is implemented: Horsham itself in fact involved a buy to let mortgage (though
the property was occupied by the borrower).
Turning to the issue of arrears, the discretion operates only if arrears can be paid off
within a reasonable period. What happens if there are no arrears (or they have already
been paid off)? The right to possession does not, of course, depend on there being arrears.
If there are no arrears, the result could be that (1) the powers do not apply; (2) (the
opposite conclusion) there is an automatic right to have possession postponed; or (3)
there is a true discretion.
This problem surfaced in Western Bank Ltd v Schindler.39 Defective drafting meant that
interest was not payable until the repayment of the mortgage. The lender became justi-
fiably worried when interest payments ceased. Possession was the only viable remedy: it
meant that the lender could obtain rental income from the property and thus prevent
the overall debt from increasing. A majority of the Court of Appeal held that the AJA
powers were applicable. They reasoned that it would be ‘irrational and unfair’ for the
powers to apply only if there are arrears. Whatever the wording of the section, this point
seems entirely valid.
However, the court went on to reject the argument that section 36 meant that the
discretion had to be exercised so as to deny possession. Instead, the court has (as in the
normal cases when the section applies) a true discretion. On the facts, there was a good
reason for the lender to seek possession to protect the security and accordingly the
lender was given possession.
Assessing the statutory powers

Leaving aside the problems revealed by Horsham, the law establishes a reasonable
balance; it protects the borrower where there is a reasonable chance of the loan being
repaid over the intended lifetime of the loan. The lender will obtain possession in other
cases and, in particular, where the land provides inadequate security (where the loan,
including arrears, is likely to exceed the property value).
The principal risks to borrowers are based on three factors, which often occur together:
(1) First, there may be a long-term loss of income so that payments cannot be made,
sometimes a result of relationship breakdown. Although some problems may be
covered by social security payments, these circumstances are very likely to lead to the
38
Mortgages: Power of Sale and Residential Property CP55/09.
39
[1977] Ch 1.
292
lender gaining possession. In the difficult economic conditions of 2009, the annual
number of repossessions is around 50,000, with around 110,000 court applications.
(2) Next, increases in interest rates may ruin financial plans. Many loans have variable
interest rates (usually the interest rate is adjusted in line with national interest rates).
Even fixed interest loans are usually fixed for two to five years and are susceptible to
increases when the fix ends. Indeed, a large sudden increase in a fixed interest loan
may be less manageable than a series of small increases to a variable interest loan.
Large numbers of repossessions have often coincided with higher interest rates.
(3) Finally, it is crucial that arrears are not allowed to mount up. Particularly in the years
before Norgan, arrears mounted quickly. This was partly because of high interest
rates at the time and partly because there were repeated court applications when
payments were missed. Once the arrears have reached a high level, the chances of
repayment (even on the more generous Norgan basis) are much reduced. 18
The statutory discretion is of immense importance, but we should never forget that its
Mortgages
impact may be eclipsed by general economic developments and the benefits for borrow-
ers of effective debt management.

C AS E
in this chapter:
Cheltenham & Gloucester Building Society v Norgan [1996] 1 All ER 449 A
R
N
V I G AT O
POWERED BY
293
Z01_SMIT2607_01_SE_GLOS.QXD 2/3/10 4:17 PM Page 294
Glossary
Words that are emboldened are themselves described in this glossary. Where a term is defined or
described in the book, the relevant pages have been inserted after the entry.
Adverse possession The acquisition of ownership by long use, inconsistent with the rights
of the true owner. (p. 35)
Annexation The linking of the benefit of a restrictive covenant to land, so that the benefit
of the covenant passes automatically to a purchaser of that land. (p. 260)
Assignment The transfer of the benefit of a right, commonly applied to the transfer of
leases. The person making the transfer is the assignor and the person to whom the right is
transferred is the assignee.
Beneficial owner The person who is entitled to land as the beneficiary under a trust.
Benefited land Land which is benefited by an easement or covenant.
Burdened land Land over which an easement is exercised or whose holder is obliged to
comply with a covenant.
Charge A right enabling its holder (the chargee) to sell the land to ensure payment of a debt
(or performance of any obligation). It is a form of mortgage. (p. 274)
Commonhold A system for the ownership and management of flats and other properties
that require active management. (p. 19)
Completion The final stage of buying land, when the purchase price is paid and there is a
transfer of ownership to the purchaser.
Concurrent interests The interests of two or more people who have rights to enjoy
property at the same time. They are called co-owners. The most common example is where a
couple own their house together. (pp. 6, 133)
Constructive notice Where a purchaser ought to be aware (from looking at the title deeds
and the land) that somebody other than the seller has an interest in the land. (p. 109)
Constructive trust A trust imposed by the court to avoid unconscionable (unfair) conduct.
(pp. 56, 60)
Conveyance The formal transfer (usually by deed) of land. For registered land, we more
simply refer to transfers.
Covenant An obligation entered into by a deed. The person entering into the obligation is
the covenantor and the person with the benefit of the covenant is the covenantee. (p. 256)
Deed A formal written document that is signed and witnessed. It is required for many land
transactions. A person transferring an interest by deed is usually described as the grantor. The
person to whom the interest is transferred is the grantee. (p. 54)
294
Glossary
Derogation from grant The principle whereby a grantor in a deed is not permitted to act
in such a way as to deny or devalue what the grantee expects to receive.
Discontinuous lease A lease that can be exercised on certain dates every month or year,
so that there is no single continuous period of occupation. (p. 114)
Disposition The transfer of an estate or the creation of any interest (including leases and
mortgages) by the holder of an estate.
Dominant land Land which is benefited by an easement or covenant. The holder of the
dominant land is the dominant owner.
Easement A right over neighbouring land, which benefits the holder’s land. An example is
a right of access (right of way). This is useful if the owner of the dominant land has no other
access, or else an inconvenient access. Most easements involve a right to do something on the
servient land. (pp. 8, 234)
Electronic registration (e-conveyancing) The transfer or creation of interests by direct
electronic contact with the land registry. The register is instantaneously updated to effect the
transfer or creation.
Equity A system of rights and remedies (including proprietary interests) originally developed
by the Court of Chancery.
Equitable lease A lease recognised by equity, usually arising because a legal lease has failed
because it does not comply with formalities requirements. (p. 178)
Estate contract A contract to acquire a legal estate in land. It constitutes a proprietary
interest. (p. 9)
Estates Rights to enjoy land, analogous to ownership at their most extensive. Estates are
measured by time, so that a right to land for life is a life estate. An interest that may last
forever is a fee simple estate. (p. 6)
Estoppel The principle (more fully, proprietary estoppel) applicable if an owner encourages
a person to assume that an interest exists, whether by representation or acquiescence in a
mistake. A remedy may be given if that person has acted to their detriment. (pp. 37, 71)
Fee simple An estate in land that may last forever. A fee simple absolute in possession is
virtually the same as ownership. It is absolute if it cannot be artificially cut short. (p. 6)
Fine A capital sum paid by a tenant at the time a lease is entered into (usually reducing the
rent otherwise payable). (p. 55)
Fixture An object fixed to land such that it belongs to the owner of the land and ceases to
exist as a separate object. (p. 45)
Foreclosure The termination of a mortgagor’s (borrower’s) right of redemption, so that the

mortgagee (lender) becomes the owner. It is rare today. (p. 279)
Forfeiture The cutting short of an interest. It is most important as a means of terminating a

lease when the tenant is in breach of its terms. (p. 198)
Formalities Requirements that certain interests or transactions have to be created in a certain

way: by writing, a deed or entry on a register. (pp. 4, 50)
295
Glossary
Four unities The unities of possession, interest, title and time must be present before a joint
tenancy can exist. A tenancy in common requires only unity of possession. (p. 136)
Freehold estates Those estates that are not leases. It is often used as a synonym for the fee
simple absolute in possession. (p. 7)
Future lease A lease that will commence in the future, as where a lease is entered into on
1 April for occupation on 1 August.
Indemnity Compensation payable by the land registry when a mistake has been made on
the register, regarding registered titles. (p. 121)
Intestacy Dying without making a will. Legislation provides for the assets of the deceased
person to pass to a spouse or close relatives.
Joint tenancy A form of concurrent interests whereby each joint tenant is regarded as
owning the whole. On death of one joint tenant, the survivors own the land; the deceased’s
share does not pass under his or her will. (p. 136)
Land charges A system of registration of specified interests in land, but not of estates. It will
become obsolete when land registration is completed. (pp. 18, 111)
Land registration See registered land.
Lease An estate whereby land may be enjoyed for a fixed period. The period may be as
short as a day or last hundreds of years. The person who grants the lease is the landlord, or
lessor. The person to whom the lease is granted is the tenant, or lessee. (pp. 7, 172)
Legatee A person who is entitled to property under a will.
Licence A right to enter or do something on (or having an effect on) land. It applies to situ-
ations as diverse as living in a friend’s house and visiting a cinema. It is a residuary category,
covering rights that are not leases or easements. It is thought not to be a proprietary
interest. (p. 221)
Life estate or life interest An estate giving a right to enjoy land for the holder’s lifetime.
(p. 6)
Mortgage A property interest that exists to ensure payment of a debt, most commonly by
selling land if the debt is unpaid. Modern mortgages are frequently described as charges.
We say a debt is secured if it is protected by a mortgage or charge. The lender (the person to
whom the security is given) is the mortgagee. The borrower is the mortgagor. (p. 273)
Notice (doctrine of) A purchaser is bound by an existing equitable interest only if there is
actual or constructive notice of it. Notice is of little significance for registered land. (p. 109)
Option The right to purchase land (or an interest in it) if the holder chooses to do so. It is a
form of estate contract. (p. 9)
Overreaching When land held on trust is sold, the interests of the trust beneficiaries are
transferred from the land to the proceeds of sale. Overreaching ensures that trustees can sell
land without the purchaser having to investigate the beneficial interests. (pp. 16, 149, 160)
Overriding interests Interests that bind purchasers of registered land despite their not
being protected on the register. (pp. 19, 116)
296
Glossary
Periodic tenancy A form of lease which superficially lasts for a period such as a week or
year, but which continues unless either party gives notice to end it. (p. 176)
Personal representatives The persons who administer the property of a deceased individ-
ual, paying debts and passing it to those entitled under the will. (p. 24)
Planning permission A system whereby permission must be sought before any building or
change of land use is undertaken. (p. 263)
Positive covenants Covenants that require the expenditure of money or work to be
undertaken. Unlike restrictive covenants, they are not proprietary interests.
Possession (in) An interest is said to be in possession when it is presently being enjoyed.
(p. 6)
Prescription The acquisition of easements by long use, without the permission of the
owner of the servient land. (p. 239)
Priorities A system for working out which of two competing interests wins. Suppose an
owner of land leases it to Brian on day one and mortgages the same land to Charles on day
two. Priority rules tell us whether Brian can enforce his lease against Charles. (p. 108)
Privity of contract The principle (amended by legislation) that only the parties to a contract
can sue and be sued on it.
Profit The right to take something from somebody else’s land, such as fish from a river. It is
analogous to easements, though it need not benefit neighbouring land. (p. 234)
Proprietor The owner of a registered title.
Proprietary interests Interests that affect successors in title to the person who creates
them. (p. 3)
Rectification (1) of documents The amendment of documents by the court to correct mis-
takes made in their drafting.
Rectification (2) of registered titles The amendment of a registered title under statutory
powers to correct mistakes on the register. (p. 120)
Redemption The termination of mortgages and charges by the repayment of sums due to
the lender. (p. 276)
Registered land (or title) A system whereby fees simple and leases are registered by the
land registry. Other rights (such as mortgages and restrictive covenants) are entered on the
register. The register is guaranteed accurate and replaces title deeds. (pp. 111, 112)
Remainder (in) An estate that does not give present enjoyment of land, usually because
somebody else has a life interest in possession. (p. 6)
Restrictive covenants Covenants that require no expenditure of money and no work to
be undertaken. An example is an obligation not to build on land. (pp. 9, 257)
Resulting trust Where property is transferred to another, the transferee holds on resulting
trust for the transferor unless a gift was intended. A similar trust arises if a person provides
money for the purchase of property: the purchaser holds on trust for the person who provided
the funds. (p. 57)
297
Glossary
Servient land Land over which an easement is exercised or whose holder is obliged to
comply with a covenant. The holder of the servient land is the servient owner.
Settlement An arrangement whereby successive interests are created in land. The term
settled land is used more specifically to describe a system, now obsolescent, of statutory
regulation of settlements.
Severance Converting a joint tenancy into a tenancy in common. (p. 139)
Specific performance A court order requiring a party to carry out an obligation (usually
contractual).
Sublease A lease created by somebody who is a tenant rather than owner. (pp. 204, 210)
Successive interests Estates that are enjoyed one after another, as where one person is
entitled for their life and thereafter the land will go to another person. (pp. 6, 133)
Successor in title Somebody whose right to land derives from a specified person. The term
includes purchasers, tenants and those taking title under a will.
Survivorship The principle that when one joint tenant dies, the survivors own the land. The
deceased’s share does not pass under his or her will. (p. 136)
Tenancy in common A form of concurrent interests, under which the shares can be of
whatever nature and size the parties choose. There is no survivorship: the interest passes
under the will of a deceased tenant in common. (p. 136)
Title deeds Documents shown by a seller of unregistered land to the purchaser, proving
that the seller owns the land. They are usually successive conveyances of the land going back
at least 15 years. (p. 109)
Trespass Wrongful entry on land.
True owner The person who is shown to be the owner of land by the title deeds or register.
To be contrasted with the adverse possessor.
Trust An arrangement whereby a trustee manages property for the benefit of a beneficiary.
The trustee and beneficiary both have proprietary interests in the property (legal and equit-
able interests respectively). Some trusts are imposed by the courts to ensure that the holders
of property cannot keep it for themselves: constructive and resulting trusts. (p. 11)
Trust for sale A trust under which the trustees have an obligation to sell, though invariably
they have power to postpone sale. (pp. 149, 163)
Trust of land Any trust over land. The term possesses significance since the Trusts of Land
and Appointment of Trustees Act 1996, which regulates trusts of land. (pp. 16, 149)
Trustee in bankruptcy The person to whom the assets of a bankrupt person pass. The
trustee in bankruptcy will sell those assets in order to pay the debts of the bankrupt.
Undivided shares Another name for a tenancy in common. (p. 137)
Unregistered land Land where the fee simple or lease is not registered.
298
Z02_SMIT2607_01_SE_IDX.QXD 2/3/10 4:18 PM Page 299
Index
Page references in bold refer to Glossary entries. Benefit and burden, 79–80
estoppel contrasted, 79
1925 legislation, 15–19 Benefited land, 294
estates, 15–18 Building schemes see Restrictive covenants
interests other than estates, 18–19 Burdened land, 294
overreaching, 16, 149, 160–3, 296
registration, 18–19 Charge, 274–5, 294
see also Mortgages
Actual occupation see Overriding interests Charging orders, 167–8, 275
Advancement see Resulting and constructive Commonhold, 19–20, 294
trusts commonhold association, 20
Adverse possession, 35–45, 294 commonhold community statement, 20
assessed, 45 need for, 19–20
described, 35–6 new estate?, 20
effect of, 41–3 Completion, 51, 54, 294
against tenants, 42–3 Concurrent interests, 294
fee simple before completed, 41 1925 scheme, 150, 151–2
owner’s title extinguished, 41 forms of, 136–9
registered land, 41–3 importance, 134
successive squatters, 41 need for regulation, 149
future interests, 42 trust of land, 150–1
human rights, 44–5 see also Joint tenancy; Tenancy in common;
justification of, 43–4 Trusts of land
registered land, 36–8 Conditional fees see Fee simple
further application, 38 Constructive notice, 109–10, 294
human rights, 44–5 Constructive trusts see Resulting and
initial application, 36–7 constructive trusts
objections to application, 37–8 Constructive trusts and estoppel compared,
successive adverse possessors, 41 103 –7
summarised, 36 Contract contrasted with property, 3–4, 9
requirements, 38–41 Contracts for the sale of land, requirements of
intention to possess, 39–40 writing, 52–4
owners with no present use for land, 40–1 agreements requiring writing, 52–3
possession, 38–9 collateral and separate contracts, 53–4
possession adverse to owner, 40–1 electronic conveyancing see Electronic
stopping time running, 40 conveyancing
successive squatters, 41 enforcement if not in writing, 54, 82–4
Annexation see Restrictive covenants constructive trusts, 82–3
Assignment see Leases; Restrictive covenants estoppel, 82–3, 84
part performance, 54
Bare licences see Licences omitted terms, 53–4
Beneficial owner, 294 see also Estate contracts
299
Index
Contractual licences, 223–7 inspection of land, 110

constructive trusts, 227–30 justification today, 110
licensee and licensor, 223–4 Dominant land, 295
licensee and purchaser, 224–5
contrast with estoppel licences, 232–3 Easements and profits, 295, 297
equitable remedy insufficient, 225 change of use, 241–2
new interests possible after 1925?, 226 covenants compared, 270–1
remedies, 226–7 easements and profits described, 8, 234–5
Conveyance, 51, 294 express creation, 239
Conveyancing, 51–2, 64 extent of the right, 241–2
Court of Chancery, 11 change of use, 241–2
Covenant, 256, 294 use for other land, 242
see also Covenants in leases; Positive implied easements see Implied easements
covenants; Restrictive covenants prescription see Prescription
Covenants in leases reform, 235, 242, 246
breaches after assignment, 206–7, 209, registered land, 115, 117–18
214–17 requirements, 235–9
privity of contract, 214–17 accommodating dominant tenement,
1995 Act leases, 216 236 –7
criticisms, 214–15 business use not fatal, 236
liability of landlord, 216–17 capable of being subject matter of grant,
need for notice, 215 237
overriding leases, 215–16 dominant and servient owner different
protection against variation, 215 persons, 237
reasons for liability, 214 dominant and servient tenement, 234, 236
recovery if liable, 216 negative easements restricted, 237–8
privity of estate, 206, 208 positive obligations not permitted, 238–9
breaches before assignment, 208–9 possession inconsistent with, 237, 243–6
concurrent leases, 209–10 matter of degree, 245
equitable leases and assignments, 209 modern developments, 244–6
freehold covenants contrasted, 269–70 parking cars, 244
Landlord and Tenant (Covenants) Act 1995, rights to store, 244
207 rights of support, 238
landlord covenants, 208 rights to fencing, 238
privity of estate, 206, 208 rights to light, 238
reasons for running, 203–4 rights to park cars, 244
subleases, 204, 210–11 rights to store, 244
tenant covenants, 208 rights to water and other services, 239
touching and concerning, 207–8 termination, 242–3
see also leases Economic torts, 124
Electronic conveyancing, 64–70, 295
Damages in lieu of injunctions, 264 assessing the changes, 69–70
Declaration of trust, 56, 90–1 contracts, 65
Deeds, 54, 294 described, 64–5
Derogation from grant, 194, 252–3, 295 Electronic Communications Act 2000, 65–6
Determinable fees see Fee simple obligatory use, 67–9
Discontinuous leases see Leases optional use, 66
Disposition, 295 overriding interests, 130
Distress, 203 Entails, 134
Doctrine of notice, 109–10, 296 Equitable interests see Trusts and equitable
constructive notice, 109–10, 294 interests
inspection of deeds, 109 Equitable lease see Leases
300
Index
Equitable remedies, 12–13 developments up to Street v Mountford,

insufficient for proprietary status?, 225 181–2
Equities, 13, 110, 226 exceptional cases, 186
Equity, 295 exclusive occupation compared, 184
see also Court of Chancery; Trusts and joint occupiers, 186–90
equitable interests lodgers, 184–5
Equity of redemption see Mortgages shams and pretences, 183–6
Estate contracts, 9, 295 significance, 181–2
informal transfers, 178 Street v Mountford, 182 –3
options, 9, 52, 296
proprietary interests, 9 Family home
subject to contract, 51, 82 constructive or resulting trust?, 61, 93, 97–8
see also Contracts for the sale of land, declarations of beneficial interest, 90–1
requirements of writing estoppel compared see Constructive trusts
Estates, 6–7, 134–5, 295 and estoppel compared
see also Entails; Fee simple; Freehold estates; importance, 89–90
Leases; Life estates joint names transfers, 91–2
Estoppel, 295 quantifying shares, 97–100
abandonment of easements, 243 common intention, 97
assessed, 87–8 constructive or resulting trust?, 97–8
benefit and burden compared, 79–80 criteria, 99
confers positive rights, 72 joint bank account, 100
constructive trusts see Constructive trusts reform, 102–3
and estoppel compared single name transfers, 92–7, 100–2
described, 71–2 common intention test established, 93
family home comparison see Constructive imputed intentions?, 100–1
trusts and estoppel compared direct contributions, 93–4
formalities avoidance, 82–3, 84 joint bank accounts, 94
licences see Licences early developments, 92–3
proprietary status, 77–9 express common intention, 95–6
non-proprietary remedies, 78–9 family assets theory rejected, 92–3
remedies, 77, 85–7 improvements, 97
requirements, 73–7 indirect contributions, 94–5, 101–2
assumption or expectation, 74, 80–4 intentions arising after purchase, 96–7
House of Lords review, 83–4 non-financial contributions, 95, 101
promises included, 80–1, 83–4 Stack v Dowden, 100 –2
sale negotiations, 81–4 statutory discretion, 90
wills, 81 transfers for fraudulent purposes, 59–60
detrimental reliance, 74–6 see also Joint tenancy; Resulting and
home-making activities, 75 constructive trusts; Tenancy in
proof, 76 common; Trusts of land
encouragement or acquiescence, 76–7 Fee simple, 6, 134, 295
probanda, 73 absolute or qualified, 6
sale negotiations and contracts, 81–4 conditional and determinable fees, 6, 134–5
tenancy by estoppel, 180 contingent interests, 6
see also Family home; Formalities; Licences equivalent to ownership, 6
Exclusive possession in leases, 175, 181–91 words of limitation, 135
current law assessed, 190–1 see also Commonhold; Freehold estates
meaning and role, 175, 189 Fine, 295
required, 175 Fixtures, 45–9, 295
sufficient?, 181–91 assessed, 49
company lets, 185–6 examples, 45– 6
301
Index
Fixtures (continued ) life estates see Life estates

general principles, 47–8 qualified, 6, 134–5
importance, 46–7 vesting, 135
right to remove, 48 words of limitation, 135
property right, 46 Future lease see Leases
Foreclosure see Mortgages
Forfeiture of leases, 198–203, 295 Human rights, 26–31
contract principles, 198, 212–13 adverse possession, 27, 44–5
effect on assignees and sub-tenants, 202 bankruptcy, 27–8, 165–6
meaning, 198 Convention rights, 26–8
peaceable re-entry, 200 enforcing legal rights, 29–30
relief, breaches other than failure to pay forfeiture of leases, 27
rent, 200–2 horizontal effect?, 28–9
discretion, 201–2 impact on property law, 30–1
negative covenants, 201 registration of title, 27
notice, 201
peaceable re-entry, 200 Implied easements, 246–55
relief, non payment of rent, 199–200 contemporaneous sales, 247
relief, sub-tenants and mortgagees, 202–3 derogation from grant, 249, 253, 295
residential tenants, 199 grant, 249–53
waiver, 199 general words (s 62), 249–52
when available, 198 continuous and apparent?, 251
Forgery, 119, 120, 167 contracts, 252
Formalities, 4–5, 50–70, 295 contrary intention, 251–2
contracts for sale of land see Contracts for the nature of permission and use, 250–1
sale of land, requirements of writing nature of right, 250
conveyance, 54 prior diversity of occupation, 251
declarations of trust, 56 general words and Wheeldon compared,
electronic conveyancing see Electronic 253– 4
conveyancing Wheeldon v Burrows, 252–3
equitable interests, 56 continuous and apparent, 252
estoppel, 71, 82–3, 84 contracts, 254
express common intentions, 95–6 necessary for reasonable enjoyment,
importance, 50–1 253
leases, 55–6 relationship between requirements, 253
legal interests, 55 grant and reservation distinguished, 246–7
need for, 61–4 legal easements created, 246
property other than land, 23 quasi-easements, 246
resulting and constructive trusts, 56–61 reform, 254–5
severance of joint tenancy, 143 reservation, 248–9
Four unities see Joint tenancy Indemnity see Registration of title
Fraud and bad faith see Registration of title Interests in land, 3–4, 5–10
Freehold estates, 6, 134–6, 296 non-ownership interests, 7–9
1925 legislation, 16 splitting ownership, 5–7
commonhold see Commonhold why limited range?, 9–10
contingent, 6 Issues in land law, 4–5
fee simple see Fee simple Intestacy, 296
fee tail, 134
in possession, 6, 297 Joint purchase of land see Family home
in remainder, 6, 297 Joint tenancy, 296
leases contrasted, 7, 17 contrast with tenancy in common, 136
legal status, 16 four unities, 136–7, 296
302
Index
Joint tenancy (continued ) forfeiture see forfeiture of leases

how readily implied today? 138–9 formalities, 55–6, 173
joint obligations essential?, 189–90 freehold estates distinguished, 17, 173
nature of, 136–7 frustration, 212
necessary today?, 145–7 future leases, 114, 296
presumed, 138 leases by estoppel, 180
severance, 139–45, 298 leases for life, 180
acts operating on share, 141–2 legal estate, 17, 173
course of dealing, 143–4 nature and importance, 172–3
formalities, 141, 143 periodic tenancy, 176–8, 297
mutual agreement, 143–4 creation, 176–7
not of legal joint tenancy, 139 principles, 176
notice in writing, 139–40 termination, 177–8
reform, 144–5 terms, 177
unilateral?, 141, 142–5 perpetually renewable leases, 180
survivorship, 136, 298 quiet enjoyment, 193–4
use today, 138–9 registered land, 114–15, 117
rent, 174
Land and other property contrasted, 22–5 repairing obligations see State and fitness of
Land charges, 18, 111–12, 296 leased premises
compensation, 112 requirements for valid leases, 55–6, 173–5
described, 18 state and fitness see State and fitness of
interests within scheme, 111 leased premises
name registration, 112 subleases, 202, 204–5, 210–11, 293
undiscoverable land charges, 112 tenancy at sufferance, 179
see also Priorities of interests; Registration of tenancy at will, 179
title tenancy by estoppel, 180
Land obligations, 266, 271–2 title in landlord unnecessary, 213–14
see also Positive covenants; Restrictive Legal estates and interests, 16–17
covenants see also 1925 legislation; Fee simple; Freehold
Land registration see Registration of title estates; Interests binding purchasers
Landlord and tenant see Leases Legatee, 296
Leases, 296 Licences, 296
assignment and subletting, 203–6, 294 bare licences, 222
distinguished, 204–5 constructive trusts, 227–30
restrictions in lease, 205–6 privity analysis, 227
role of, 204 proprietary interest?, 229–30
certainty of commencement date, 174 when imposed, 228–9
certainty of maximum duration, 174–5 contractual licences see Contractual licences
certainty of rent, 174 coupled with an interest, 222
concurrent leases, 209–10 estoppel licences, 230–3
contract principles applicable?, 211–14 binding purchasers, 231–2
covenants see covenants in leases registered land, 231–2
derogation from grant, 194 overlap with contractual licences,
described, 7, 172–3 232–3
discontinuous leases, 114, 180–1, 295 use for conventional property rights,
distress, 203 230
equitable leases, 178–9, 295 use for licences, 230–1
liability on covenants, 209 methods of protection, 222
exclusive possession see Exclusive possession nature, 221–2
in leases remedies available to licensee, 226–7
fixtures, 47, 48–9 see also Estoppel
303
Index
Life estates, 6, 296 security interest, 274

equitable since 1925, 16 traditional form of, 274
leases compared, 17, 173 types of, 274–5
waste, 136 vitiating factors see Vitiating factors in
Limitation, words of, 135 mortgages
Limitation rules see Adverse possession
Nemo dat quod non habet, 108
Mortgages, 296 Notice see Doctrine of notice, 296
changes in 1925, 274–5 Nuisance, 227
charging orders, 167–8, 275
described, 7–8 Options see estate contracts
importance, 273–4 Original acquisition see Adverse possession;
legal charge, 274–5 Fixtures
lender’s rights and remedies, 279–81, Overreaching see 1925 legislation; Successive
288–93 interests; Trusts of land
foreclosure, 279–80, 295 Overriding interests, 116–18, 124–30, 296
possession, 280–1, 288–93 actual occupation, 117, 124–30
duty of mortgagee to account, 281 assessed, 130
reasons for taking possession, 280–1 authorised dispositions, 129
right of mortgagee, 280 inquiry of the occupier, 128–9
statutory postponement, 288–93 justification, 130
application, 289 meaning of actual occupation, 125–8
assessed, 292–3 furniture, 127
capital repayment, 290–1 living in same house, 126
default clauses, 289 nature of test, 126–7
exercise of discretion, 289–91 obvious on reasonable inspection, 126–7
length of postponement, 289–90 parking cars, 127
role of arrears, 290, 292 preparatory acts, 128
sale by borrower, 290–1 relationship with notice, 125–6
sale without taking possession, 291–2 short absences, 127–8
sale, 281–3 proprietary right essential, 125
arising and exercisable, 281–2 time of actual occupation, 128
court orders for sale, 283 easements and profits, 117–18
mortgagee’s duties, 282–3 indemnity not available, 121
proceeds of sale, 282 legal leases, 117
proper price, 292–3 time of, 128
sale without taking possession, 291–2 why allowed?, 116–17
nature of, 7–8, 12, 273–4
protection of borrower, 275–9 Part performance, 54
options, 276–7 Periodic tenancies see leases
redemption in original state, 277–8 Perpetuity rules, 135–6
collateral advantages, 277–8 Personal representatives, 297
options, 278 Planning permission, 263–4, 297
restraint of trade, 279 Positive covenants, 264–6, 268–72, 297
right to redeem, 276, 297 benefit, 265–6
unfair terms, 278–9 burden, 4, 256, 264–5, 268–9
unconscionability test, 278–9 chains of covenants, 265
unfair credit bargains, 279 reasons for not running, 268–9
Unfair Terms etc Regulations, 279 reform, 269
registered land, 115 restriction on register, 264
repayment mortgages, 275 commonhold see commonhold
sale orders by court, 283 easements compared, 270–2
304
Index
Positive covenants (continued ) first registration, 114

land obligations, 266, 271–2 forgery, 119
leasehold covenants compared, 269–70 indemnity, 121, 296
reform, 266, 269, 271–2 forgeries, 119
Possession, 23 overriding interests, 121
Possession, in see freehold estates significance, 121
Prescription, 239–41, 297 leases, 114–15, 117
forms of prescription, 239–40 discontinuous leases, 114
common law prescription, 239–40 forms of title, 115
lost modern grant, 240 future leases, 114
Prescription Act 1832, 240 overriding interests, 117
justification of, 241 protection by notice, 115–16
leases, 241 registration compulsory, 114
reform, 241 separate title, 114
use as of right, 240–1 minor interests, 115–16
Priorities of interests, 5, 108, 297 notice, 116–17
authorised transactions, 129 priority as between, 119–20
competing equitable interests, 109 restriction, 117
dealings with equitable interests, 110 unprotected minor interests see priorities
doctrine of notice see Doctrine of notice objectives, 112–13
equities, 110 overriding interests see Overriding interests
first in time, 109 priorities, 118–19, 122–4
importance, 108 constructive trusts, 124
inadequacy of old rules, 110–11 forgeries, 119
legal interests, 109 fraud, 123
time order, 120 good faith not required, 122–3
see also Equities; Land charges; Registration knowledge of unprotected interest, 122
of title personal obligations, 123–4
Privity, 297 registered dispositions, 118–19, 122–4
Profits see easements and profits time order, 120
Proprietary interests, 297 unregistered interests, 119–20
see also Interests in land rectification see alteration
Proprietor, 297 registered charges, 115
see also Registration of Title registered interests, 114–15
effect of registration, 115
Rectification of register see Registration of title first registration, 114
Redemption see Mortgages see also Easements; Fees simple; Leases;
Registration of title, 297 Registered charges
2002 Act, 113 registrable dispositions, 114–15
alteration, 120–1 priorities, 118–19, 122–4
alteration and rectification, 120, 297 see also Easements; Fees simple; Leases;
grounds, 120–1 Registered charges
proprietor in possession, 121 time order, 120
categories of interests, 113–14 see also Adverse possession; Electronic
computerisation see Electronic conveyancing conveyancing; Land charges; Priorities
described, 18–19, 112–13 of interests
development of, 113 Remainder, in see Freehold estates
easements and profits Restraint of trade, 279
overriding interests, 117–18 Restrictive covenants, 297
registration, 115 building schemes, 261–3
fees simple, 114–15 covenant must be restrictive, 257–8
forms of registered titles, 115 described, 9, 256–7
305
Index
Restrictive covenants (continued ) notice to landlord, 197

dominant tenement required, 258 enforcement of duty, 196–7
easements and leases links, 256, 269–71 fitness for habitation, 195
enforcement, 264 personal injuries, 197
original justification, 257 Subject to contract, 51, 82
planning function, 263–4 ‘Subject to’ promises, 61, 227–9
privity legislation, 259, 263 Subleases see Leases
proprietary status, 4, 256–7 Successive interests, 5, 16, 133–6, 148–9,
reform, 266, 269 151, 298
running of benefit, 258–63, 266–7 history and problems, 148–9
annexation, 260, 266–7, 294 importance, 133–4
statutory under s 78, 266–7 overreaching, 16, 149, 160–3, 296
to each and every part, 260 perpetuities, 135–6
to whole, 260 reform and trust of land, 149–51
assignment, 261, 294 settled land, 149
building schemes, 261–3 trusts for sale, 149
neighbours, 259 see also Trusts of land
privity legislation, 263 Successors in title, 298
reasons for rules, 259 Survivorship see Joint tenancy
statutory modification, 263
Resulting and constructive trusts Tenancies see Leases
constructive trusts, 294 Tenancy in common, 298
family home, 61, 93, 97–8 contrast with joint tenancy, 136
giving effect to licences, 227–9 equitable presumption, 138–9
transferee agrees to hold for third party, family home. 138
56–7, 60–1, 228–9 problems in leases, 189–90
privity of contract, 61, 229 undivided shares, 137, 298
subsequent purchaser bound? 228–9 words of severance, 137–8
transferee agrees to hold for transferor, Title deeds, 109, 298
60 Torrens systems see Registration of title
formalities, 56–7 Touching and concerning see Covenants in
joint bank accounts, 94 leases; Positive covenants; Restrictive
presumption of advancement, 58–9 covenants
resulting trusts, 57–9, 297 Transfer and creation of interests see Contracts
presumptions, 58–9 for the sale of land, requirements of
transfers for fraudulent purposes, 59–60 writing; Declaration of trust; Deeds;
see also Family home; Formalities Electronic conveyancing; Formalities
Trespass, 298
Servient land, 298 True owner, 298
Settlements, 298 see also Adverse possession
see also Successive interests Trustee in bankruptcy, 164–6, 298
Severance see Joint tenancy see also Trusts of land
Solus ties, 279 Trustees see Trusts of land
Specific performance, 12–13, 178–9, 196–7 Trusts and equitable interests
198, 223–5, 298 Court of Chancery, 11
Squatters see Adverse possession equitable interests, 12–13
State and fitness of leased premises, 194–8 equities see Equities
enforcement of tenants’ duties, 198 operation of equity today, 13–14
implied duty to repair?, 194–5, 213 trusts, 11–12, 298
landlords’ duties, 195–7 see also Doctrine of notice; Priorities of
dwelling houses, 195–6 interests; Resulting and constructive
meaning of disrepair, 196 trusts; Trusts of land
306
Index
Trusts for sale see Trusts of land reform, 161–2

Trusts of land, 298 single trustee, 162–3
application, 151–2 two trustees, 162
bare trusts, 152 where breach of trust, 163–4
concurrent interests, 151–2 powers of trustees, 152–4
extended by TLATA, 152 exercise of, 153
successive interests, 151 pre-TLATA authorities, 154–6
trusts for sale, 149 protection on register, 115–16
undesired cases?, 152 purchaser protection
bankruptcy, 164–6 consent requirements, 154
homes protection, 166 see also Overreaching
human rights, 165–6 sale see Court applications; Trustees’
consent requirements, 154 powers
consultation requirements, 153–4 trustees’ powers, 152–4
court applications, 154–7, 164–71 consent requirements, 154
bankruptcy, 164–6 consultation, 153–4
family law jurisdiction, 156–7 exclusion of, 163
matters for consideration, 154–6 exercise of, 153
changes in TLATA, 155–6 trusts for sale, 149–50, 163–4, 298
children, 155–6, 165–6, 169
earlier cases, 154–5 Undivided shares see Tenancy in common
secured creditors, 167–70 Undue influence, 284–5
successors in title, 170–1 Unregistered land, 108–12, 298
willingness to intervene, 156
delegation, 157 Vesting in interest and in possession, 135
financial adjustments, 158–60 Vitiating factors in mortgages, 283–8
improvements, 160 no duty to mortgagor, 284
need for regulation, 148–50 undue influence by borrower, 284–8
occupation, 157–60 assessed, 288
before TLATA, 157–8 background, 283–4
compensation, 159–60 consequences of being put on inquiry, 286
spouses and cohabitants, 159 employee mortgagors, 287–8
TLATA, 158–9 lender put on inquiry, 285
right to occupy, 158 notice analysis, 284
continuing requirements?, 158 solicitors’ duties, 286–8
role of court, 159 undue influence defined, 284–5
trustees’ discretions, 158–9 who can give advice?, 286
overreaching, 16, 149, 160–3, 296
capital money, 161 Waste, 136
occupying beneficiaries, 161–2 Words of limitation, 135
307
The essential reference for all students of law
UÊ ÕÞÊV«Ài iÃÛiÊiÌÀiÃÊÊ>Ê>Ã«iVÌÃÊvÊ }Ã Ê>ÜÊ

UÊ i>ÀÊìwÌÃÊvÊÃ«iV>Ãi`Êi}>ÊÌiÀ}ÞÊ
UÊ ÀÃÃÀiviÀiVi`]Ê}Û}ÊvÕÊÀiviÀiViÃÊvÀÊV>ÃiÃÊ>`ÊÃÌ>ÌÕÌiÃ
/ iÊ`VÌ>ÀÞÊÃÊvÕÞÊÃÕ««ÀÌi`ÊLÞÊ>ÊV«>ÊÜiLÃÌiÊÜ V ÊÃÊÌÊ
>``Ì>Êi}>ÊvÀ>ÌÊ>`Ê«ÀÛìÃÊÕ«`>ÌiÃÊÌÊìwÌÃ°
Û>>LiÊvÀÊ>Ê}`ÊLÃ «ÃÊÀÊÀìÀÊiÊ>Ì\
www.pearsoned.co.uk/law

Land Law Book

Uploaded by

Copyright:

Available Formats

Land Law Book

Uploaded by

Document Information

Copyright

Available Formats

Share this document

Share or Embed Document

Sharing Options

Did you find this document useful?

Is this content inappropriate?

Copyright:

Available Formats

Land Law Book

Uploaded by

Copyright:

Available Formats

‘The text is clear and easy to understand.

It explains the issues very well indeed

Introduction to Land Law

‘Comprehensive and well-structured.’

online resources for assessment and learning support V I G AT O

CVR_SMIT2607_02_SE_CVR.indd 1 8/2/10 10:45:32

Introduction to Land Law

The perfect companion to use

Includes all the cases and materials you are likely

Available at all good bookshops or order online at:

Pearson Education Limited

Visit us on the World Wide Web at:

First published 2007

© Pearson Education Limited 2007, 2010

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in

Crown Copyright material is reproduced with the permission of the Controller

British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Typeset in 9.5/13 pt Stone Sans by 35.

The publisher’s policy is to use paper manufactured from sustainable forests.

Preface to second edition xiv

Part 1 Introduction to land law 1

Part 2 Acquiring interests and binding purchasers 33

Part 3 Rights to enjoy land 131

Part 4 Other interests in land 219

Preface to second edition xiv

Part 1 INTRODUCTION TO LAND LAW 1

1 Introducing land law 3

2 Trusts and equitable interests 11

3 Legislative reform: 1925 to 2002 15

4 Land and other property 22

Part 2 ACQUIRING INTERESTS AND BINDING

6 Adverse possession and fixtures 35

7 Transfer and creation of interests in land 50

Main issues and rules 73

9 Ownership of the family home 89

Part 3 RIGHTS TO ENJOY LAND 131

11 Successive and concurrent ownership 133

Joint tenancy or tenancy in common? 136

12 Trusts of land 148

13 Leases: types and requirements 172

14 Leases: obligations and remedies 192

Enforcing obligations: tenants’ obligations 198

Part 4 OTHER INTERESTS IN LAND 219

Visit the Introduction to Land Law, second edition,

Preface to second edition

Preface to first edition

Preface to second edition

Dr Janine Griffiths-Baker, University of Bristol

Visit the Introduction to Land Law, second edition mylawchamber site C AS E

at www.mylawchamber.co.uk/smithintro to access unique online

● Direct deep links to the core cases in land law.

Case Navigator cases are highlighted in bold.

AG Securities v Vaughan [1990] 1 AC 417 Attorney General of Hong Kong v Humphreys

1 Introducing land law 3

2 Trusts and equitable interests 11

3 Legislative reform: 1925 to 2002 15

4 Land and other property 22

1 Introducing land law

What is land law?