I took the long way back from Tesco (Express - that means it's slightly and inexplicably more expensive than the traditional superstore, and less well stocked). A nice walk down the hill, you know, the one through the farmland, toward the river and by the weir.
The farmer died a few weeks ago. He was a nice fellow. Apparently a few months, perhaps even years, ago he'd sold his land. Developers have been sniffing around for a few years now. Across their number they have tried to acquire multiple patches of land so they can make a profit of course. It's not about building to meet a need. We obviously have that, but these will not be affordable homes, nor will they exist in sufficient number to meet any reasonable demand.
This is just about making money from farmers that can't support themselves. This isn't NIMBYism, the land is for everyone to enjoy. Not just rich homeowners (whose number will now increase). I enjoy that land.
Or I used to. I could walk down that field, look out across to the hill, past the church. I could see the line of electricity pylons across the horizon. You might not think something so prosaic and unnatural could broaden the mind, but they served to define the parameters of that horizon, to bring to life, after a fashion. You take what you can from the world around you.
Unfortunately so do the developers. Now that view was obscured by metal fencing, locking walkers and ramblers into a narrow channel while leaving the labourers unmolested to cut a swathe into the land and lay the foundations for the houses that will steal my view.
I thought to myself: this is the last time I'll see that clock that hill and those pylons from that hill.
Every day a little piece of us is forever stolen. This is how they win.
If we let them
No comments:
Post a Comment