This is how I actually build SIP garden rooms in the real world - the decisions I make, the shortcuts I refuse to take, and why I prefer to stay small, careful and accountable instead of chasing volume.
I'm Henry Helps. I don't send random teams you've never met to build your garden room. I'm the person who turns up, sets out the base, builds the SIP structure, fixes the cladding and signs off the details.
Over time I've settled on a way of doing things that I'm happy to put my name on. I call it the Helps & Co Method - not because it's fancy, but because it's consistent. You should know exactly what you're getting.
It's not a marketing slogan. It's the checklist I hold myself to on every job - from a small office to larger, more complex spaces.
I design as a SIP builder, not as someone upgrading a shed. The wall, floor and roof panels are the starting point, not an afterthought.
Most garden rooms fail slowly, from the inside out. I think about vapour, air movement and drying paths as much as insulation.
The neatness of a SIP room lives and dies at the edges - roof junctions, window reveals, corners and trims.
I assume you'll want to use your room on a hot August afternoon and a freezing January morning - comfortably.
Sockets in the right place, lights that feel calm, and enough capacity if you change how you use the room.
If something isn't right, it comes back to me. There isn't a hidden subcontractor, a franchise or a helpdesk in the way.
I don't aim to be the cheapest quote on your desk. I aim to be the one that still feels solid and sensible in ten years' time, when the sales chat is a distant memory and you're just using the room.
"If a number looks too good to be true for a proper SIP build, it usually is. My quotes are written so you can see exactly what you're paying for."
You're very welcome to use the Truth Lab and the Cost Engine to compare other quotes, check the spec and understand why different builders can be thousands of pounds apart for what looks, at first glance, like the same room.
