Destruction and construction in a small village

A quick thought about optimism and housing.

I try to remain an optimist whenever I can, particularly over issues I have very little control over. Having said that, the sight of several diggers ripping out the several hundred yards of hedgerow that previously lined the road into our village was enough to make my heart sink. It’s still somewhere around my heels a day later. The developers did not bother to put netting on beforehand, and it is July. It is likely that plenty of birds have just been forcefully evicted. They even hacked down the grand old oak tree that stood right in the corner of the field, closest to the bus stop. It was practically on the pavement, its glorious verdant leaves providing a welcome patch of shade on those long summer morning waits for the bus. I thought they might have left it, but evidently it had to come out.

If the other new housing estates that have cropped up along the major A-road that links our village with the rest of the country are anything to go by, the hedgerow will be replaced with a short, sandstone wall, not at all in keeping with the area, and only really useful for tripping up small boys trying to show off to their friends by jumping over it. A few enterprising weeds will take their place in the grout, and the British rain will soon leave patchy stains on the golden glow of perfectly uniform masonry.

By adding a few hundred houses, they are doubling the size of our village with this latest development, a development bitterly fought by the current residents, who actually managed to negotiate the powers that be down to this mere 100% addition. Thankfully, we (the residents, via a trust) own the village green with its playground, football field and wildlife-friendly hedgerow. They wanted to build a road through it. The notion was swiftly shot down.

Not the hedgerow they ripped out, thankfully.

We have no shops, no pub, and one very small school. That brings me to my optimism: perhaps the incomers will encourage additional, appropriate amenities. Having done their part to destroy a little bit of what we do have – greenery and wildlife – the developers may inadvertently enable a little bit of local business, something that would benefit residents old and new. I certainly hope so. A shop for bread and milk that I can safely walk to and a pub to go for a friendly drink or meal out with family or neighbours would be marvellous. There is talk of expanding the school, so hopefully no family will have to miss out on a local education. Part of the reason my husband and I bought our house was so I could walk our future, much-hoped-for children to school. Hopefully I will still get to do that, along with some extra, equally keen families.

I try to bear in mind that there are a great deal more people out there like my husband and I – people who have worked and scrimped and saved and just want a nice family home in a pleasant and friendly area. Somewhere with a school, and a bus stop. And some hedgerow. Sorry, I just really love hedgerow. Some days, when I’m very tired and stressed, I like to imagine shrinking down to the size of a mouse and climbing into a cool, welcoming frame of hawthorn, ivy, oak, ash and hazel, and just resting there for a while. Perhaps taking a dewy drink from the soft new leaves and playing with some friendly shrews, or perhaps getting swiftly eaten by a stoat. These things can go either way.

The housing market is in crisis, for reasons I’m sure I only have a basic understanding of, but that I suspect include: net migration of 600,000 per year versus nearer to 250,000 houses being built; more people than previously having children out of wedlock or partnership, with mother and father needing separate houses, but each house needing to be capable of housing their offspring; and a population that simply insists on keeping on living (I joke, the resentment of the aged is one of the hallmarks of our society’s degeneration, in my opinion. Except, of course, when they drive 20mph under the speed limit, in which case it is quite natural).

Admittedly, seeing so many identikit houses popping up in villages ill-equipped to deal with them in order to deal with the housing crisis feels akin to watching the state offer a sticking plaster for your amputated arm, but I suppose it’s better than doing nothing. If we keep importing people at such a high rate, however, I’m not sure how the housing market can ever really stablise. But, there we go. In the meantime, I’m going to start looking at options for adding a hedge to my garden. I only have a small space for it, but I think a little patch of hawthorn might be a good place to start. Little birdies, welcome to Chez McGraw. Tweet tweet.