Bourne Diary - March 1999
by
Rex Needle
Saturday 6th March 1999
There was a sharp intake of breath from the people of Bourne this week when they learned that a massive residential development of 2,000 new homes is proposed for land to the south west of the town.
A building scheme of this nature needs planning permission from South Kesteven District Council before it can go ahead but it seems that planning officials were unsure of the impact that such a development would have on the town and so they commissioned an independent report on the subject from a high powered firm of research consultants. This is now to hand, fifty pages of observations and recommendations, although its contents and the identity of the developer are being kept secret for the time being.
What did this report cost, I wonder, because experts of this importance do not come cheap? £20,000? £50,000 perhaps? Or more? No matter. We, the taxpayers, will foot the bill in the end. But I do know one thing: it will tell the district council nothing that I could not have told them already and without charging them a penny. In a nutshell: 2,000 new homes will cause chaos in Bourne.
A development of such magnitude will rob the area of another 200 acres of green belt. It will increase traffic flows on roads that are already overcrowded at peak periods, as any commuter into Peterborough on the A15 will attest. It will push up our population by around 6,000, an increase of 50% on our present numbers, putting more pressure on schools, libraries, public transport, leisure amenities and medical facilities, remembering of course that the town's hospital was closed last year.
There is no hope of a bypass for the A15 in the foreseeable future and the town centre streets are already a nightmare on market days and Saturdays. The traffic lights in the market place are totally inadequate and queues regularly stretch down all four feeder streets while finding a car parking space on those days is virtually impossible and so vehicles are invariably parked on the double yellow lines, increasing the risk of accident and injury to pedestrians.
Allison Homes, the company mentioned in connection with the new development, is already well advanced with The Beeches estate of two, three and four bedroom houses alongside South Road which has turned the A15 at this point into a major traffic hazard, especially during the rush hour, making it unsafe to cross into the new estate except by car.
Our MP Mr Quentin Davies, the member for Grantham and Stamford, has already warned that such development is in the wrong place and that South Kesteven District Council should beware of handing out planning consents like so much confetti without due regard to existing roads, traffic flows and the infrastructure.
Two thousand new homes will require major facilities such as public transport, school places, children's play areas, community centres and recreation areas and expenditure of this proportion will be a drain on the public purse unless outside finance is made available. It is therefore expected that the council will establish how much a major developer might be reasonably expected to contribute towards the services and amenities that will be needed and Mr Davies is pressing for such a payment to be made a condition of planning permission. The wheels of bureaucracy have therefore started turning and it is now quite likely that despite the setbacks and the objections, and there will be many, this huge estate will become a reality.
Bourne in incapable of providing employment for so many newcomers and so they will commute to other towns, to Peterborough, Nottingham, Grantham and even London. If councillors eventually decide that this development should go ahead, then they must realise that their vote will be one to turn Bourne irrevocably into a dormitory community and its traditional role as a market town will become just a memory.
Shelley reminds us that
If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind? and around Bourne this week there are signs that this magical season is fast approaching. Snowdrops and crocuses, those beautiful but fragile heralds of spring, can be seen in many gardens, together with the ubiquitous daffodil, and the first patches of green are beginning to burst forth in our hedgerows. The chill easterly winds will soon be dying away to be replaced by more gentle breezes and on some recent days the sun has already been flooding the countryside with a warmth and gentleness that ushers in the new season.
"March winds doth blow and we shall have snow" is an old country saying and although very often true, it can perhaps be somewhat misleading because March is generally a month of contrasts, a period when great changes take place in the countryside, most of them particularly evident to the conscientious nature lover.
The birds have started to desert those tasty morsels on the garden bird tables and are turning their attention to the natural foods of field and fen that they prefer. The shrill, musical notes of the blackbird can already be heard from their evening song posts and we stopped to hear one singing its heart out this week from a tree top in North Road while collared doves are pottering about my garden picking up loose twigs and other suitable materials for their nests.
Spring is just round the corner and apart from the countryside, the signs are evident all around us, even in the streets of Bourne where walking in early March has the feel of beating the bounds because the grass is growing on the footpaths again, the first buds are breaking on the trees and the ornamental cherries are taking on their mantles of pink and white blossom. I found this tree in Mill Drove yesterday, resplendent in its spring colours, and, as we used to sing at school,
. . . telling that winter's past, bright days returning fast. The first day of spring is officially listed in our calendars as March 21st, the spring equinox, but this season of awakening starts long before that and from now on, there will be something new to see each day for this time of the year is one of the best to be alive and enjoy the delights that are beginning to appear all around us.
Saturday 13th March 1999
Mother Nature must have heard me waxing lyrical about the advent of spring last week for she seized the opportunity to give winter a final fling with an overnight snowstorm during midweek. Those of us living around Bourne town awoke on Wednesday morning to find the countryside covered in a light sprinkling of white but it soon disappeared during the early morning sunshine. The villages to the north west however caught the full brunt of the fall and several inches settled in some places although it was not the snow but the subsequent flooding that caused the problems.
By midday, the thaw was well underway but the many dykes, rivers and streams that regulate the drainage in these parts were unable to cope with the sudden influx of water. Roads were flooded up to several inches in some places, and acres of farmland already sodden by a long period of rain were soon under water. Kirkby Underwood, Hawthorpe, Irnham and Swinstead were particularly affected and although most roads remained passable with extreme care, all had floodwater on the surface with rivulets running off the land and increasing the flow. Drivers found that hollows in the road had suddenly turned into small lakes and it was touch and go whether smaller vehicles could pass without mishap.
But the worst hit area was around the pretty and secluded hamlet of Creeton, nestling on the side of the valley of the West Glen River which was already swollen by the recent rain. Thawing snow quickly forced up the water levels and the river overflowed its banks and thousands of gallons of water gushed into the road and surrounding meadows, turning the countryside into huge muddy lakes and cutting off houses on either side of the B1176 at the very foot of the hillside. I managed to get through and stood on the bridge over the river and watched it racing noisily past, still rising, gulping and gurgling as it went, a grim reminder of the force of flood water and the havoc it was causing in other parts of the country at that moment, particularly in North and East Yorkshire where large areas had been devastated because of flooding along the River Derwent and many people had been forced to leave their homes, and I was thankful that we in South Lincolnshire had escaped the worst of the weather.
Man may be able to send rockets to the moon and to explore the deepest recesses of outer space, to fly faster than sound, to inspect the depths of the ocean and to communicate around the world at the press of a switch, but it is quirks of the weather such as this, a very tiny blip in the catalogue of world meteorological events, which remind us how vulnerable we are to the forces of nature which are totally outside our control and that one extreme weather pattern can turn our friendly rural environment into one of chaos, disorder and even danger.
The absentee landlord has long been a cause of frustration for neglected tenants whose cries for help cannot be heard from a long distance and therefore go unheeded. But the Bourne East ward is facing the prospect of a new phenomenon: the absentee councillor because the sitting member has announced his intention to depart these shores yet still stand for the coming elections in absentia . John Kirkman, a former mayor, town councillor for twenty years and district councillor for sixteen years, is a senior meteorological officer who is off on a six-month tour of duty on Ascension Island, the Royal Air Force's staging post for the Falkland Islands. He flies out on April 5th and although he will be busy with his new duties on May 6th, he plans to stand for both the town and district council elections on that day.
Councillor Kirkman sees nothing wrong in this situation and he has told the local newspapers: "It is not unusual for a councillor to be away from a council for up to six months. It has occurred in the past and it will occur in the future."
My experience of local government goes back well over forty years and I have never heard of such a situation. If it has occurred, then it is wrong and against all of the principles of our local democratic process.
The legality of such an absence has no doubt been given the official seal of approval at council headquarters but those people who live in Councillor Kirkman's ward must ask themselves if it is morally right that they elect a councillor who will not be back until the autumn. What of those daily inquiries that are the nitty-gritty of a councillor's week, problems involving the disabled, leisure facilities, housing and benefits, the weekly refuse collection, the council tax, or the dozen or more problems that crop up constantly? How can these be addressed from 3,000 miles away where their elected representative is busy watching the weather in the South Atlantic?
Councillor Kirkman has vowed to keep in touch, by telephone, email, letter post and the Internet. Tell that to the little old lady down the road who is having trouble getting her roof repaired or the young mother seeking assurances about her eligibility for a council house. What are they supposed to do? Put through a long distance call to Ascension Island? And who will argue the case for Bourne in the committee rooms of South Kesteven District Council where the real decisions about our town are made?
Councillors are elected on the understanding that they will make themselves available to those who put them in office and to safeguard their interests. In view of the major planning proposals now in the offing to build 2,000 new homes in Bourne, the next six months of activity by South Kesteven District Council will be among the most important for the town this century. Councillor Kirkman is asking the people to elect him and then keep his seat warm during this period because he is busy pursuing his career abroad. He is obviously determined on this course of action because he has told the newspapers of his intentions and so it will be up to the electors in his ward when they cast their votes on May 6th to decide whether they want an absentee councillor or one with sufficient time at their disposal to carry out these duties as the people quite properly expect.
Saturday 20th March 1999
There is always plenty to see out in the countryside for anyone with a weather eye that is constantly open. A badger ran across the road in front of my car the other day as I was driving past the gravel pits near Witham-on-the Hill and a few mornings back a huge dog fox trotted across the field in front of my study window, which looks out towards the fens between Bourne and Dyke village, as though it owned the world and everything in it. Then on Tuesday afternoon came another delight as my wife and I were driving into Stamford and enjoying the outing because this is a very pleasant run from Bourne along the A6121 through two or three villages before you reach the town. It was late afternoon, about two hours to twilight, and after a few miles I suddenly spotted a barn owl perched in a tree at the roadside as we passed through Carlby. I saw it for only a few seconds but its identity was unmistakable although by the time I had alerted my wife we had passed the spot. Few birds are so strangely individual as the barn owl with its flat face, or facial disc as it is known, almost perfectly heart-shaped, long slanting eyes and a strong and sharply hooked beak, hidden within the centre by fine white feathers. It is at this time of the year, towards the end of winter when food is so scarce that the bird is sometimes forced to hunt by day, that its true colours can be seen: golden buff, with white underparts and it was a most surprising sight at 4.30 p m in the afternoon on a dull March day.
We talked about it on the way home after finishing our shopping and when we reached the same spot I was hoping to see it again and then suddenly my wife called out and pointed towards the field beyond the hedgerow and there was the owl floating over the countryside on the lookout for the small mammals which it hunts. A rare and beautiful spectacle and what a coincidence, two sightings in less than an hour.
Barn owls are invariably seen within a few hundred yards of some kind of human settlement and they hunt in the margins of the parish landscape. Their open, inquisitive faces seem to be mounted directly on to the wings and, as the distinguished naturalist Richard Mabey has observed, give them the look of guardian spirits as they patrol the bounds although sadly, fewer are seen each year and the sight of a hunting barn owl is now a rare one indeed. Their decline is something of a mystery because it began long before some other birds of prey were affected by the build up in their bodies of chemical pesticides originally spayed on crops. One theory is that as the countryside becomes more mechanised, there are fewer abandoned buildings and hollow trees for them to use as nesting sites and this may be the reason why we saw this barn owl at this particular location for there were several old farm buildings in the vicinity where it may have made its home.
There are many such barns in the Bourne area and I recently photographed this row of derelict farm buildings a few miles away near Irnham, built during the early 19th century and now past their best, where barn owls usually nest and fortunately they are tolerated by farmers because the barn owl is a very good friend which reduces the number of vermin on their premises by feeding on mice, voles and rats.
Glimpses of these very private creatures of nature are a privilege because they are normally very secretive and go about their business anxious not to make their presence felt. They have learned that man is not to be trusted and there are as many who would hunt and kill them as there are who merely want to observe their habits and are curious about their existence and so they normally keep their distance. What a sad commentary it is on the human race that the only sight we ever have of these beautiful animals and birds is when they are scuttling away out of sight before they come to harm.
A strange chemical smell wafted in through my bathroom window when I opened it after showering on Thursday morning and at first I thought that perhaps my wife had been a little heavy handed with the Domestos. But this lavatory cleaner is a sweet-scented incense compared to the smell that assaulted my nostrils and after a while I could feel its taste on my tongue. I searched the bathroom for a leaking bottle or container of some long lost disinfectant or closet purgative but to no avail and soon my wife complained that she too was similarly affected. After breakfast, I went outside to feed the birds and discovered that our back garden, which overlooks the open fen, was redolent with this obnoxious aroma and I suddenly realised that it was blowing in on the wind from farmland out there towards Morton and Dyke and possibly beyond. It was either herbicide or pesticide, whichever abominable substance is spread or sprayed on the land at this time of the year, many of which are highly toxic, and the operation had been carried out against all of the current regulations concerning the prevailing wind which was blowing in some force towards Bourne and carrying its malodorous stench into our very back gardens. It persisted two hours later and we could not only smell it around the house but also in the surrounding streets.
It is only a short time ago that farmers in the Bourne area were under attack for sounding off their infernal audio bird scarers at all hours. Many of our roads, especially in country areas, have been made dangerous by mud dropped on the carriageway by tractors and trailers in recent weeks and now our senses are being assaulted, and perhaps our health put at risk, by airborne chemicals wafted into our homes. This is not an isolated occurrence because it has happened before and yet our farmers persist with these anti-social practices despite their increasing unpopularity in the wake of mad cow disease and their unearned benefits from the European Union's Common Agricultural Policy. A little more consideration for those who live near their land, buy what they grow and through our taxes, contribute to their massive subsidies, might help raise the low regard that many people have for them, particularly those who continue to cock a snook not only at their own codes of good practice but also at anyone who complains.
The Bourne Diary may only be a small voice in public affairs but there is growing evidence that it is being heard. Councillor John Kirkman has signed my guest book after being mentioned here last week (Diary 13th March 1999) in connection with a statement he issued to the local press that he intended to stand for the local government elections in May and to serve as a councillor if he wins, despite being out of the country for the hustings and for several months afterwards. He is most fulsome in his praise of the Bourne web site, and we are grateful for that, but he goes on to say that "some of the details included in your latest Diary about me are incorrect" and this worries me because accuracy has always been my watchword. I immediately tried to email him for more information only to find, quite strangely, that he had not left a return email address and then I wondered why he had not emailed me directly to point out any errors that may have crept into my text in order that they could be corrected immediately. I could have deleted his entry in the guest book but that is not my way and I have left it there for all to read but I do hope that Councillor Kirkman is not using that tired old political ruse of trying to shoot the messenger by criticising a misplaced full stop or a comma in the hope of casting doubt and even nullifying the entire entry, for after half a century in journalism such deviousness is well known to me. Well, at least we know that Councillor Kirkman now has access to the Internet and that he reads the Diary and so here is my message to him: any inaccuracies you may have found will be given equal prominence here next week and I hope to hear from you as soon as you break cover from your email anonymity. Watch this space.
Saturday 27th March 1999
That official buff envelope we all dread at this time of the year dropped through the letter box this week containing the latest demand for the payment of council tax and after months of speculation and false hopes I was not in the least bit surprised to discover that it has gone up yet again. I am an old age pensioner living with my wife in a modest three-bedroom house in Bourne but South Kesteven District Council has sent me a bill for £683.14, an increase of £39.43 on last year. We, like most pensioners, live on a fixed income and so that is almost £40 less that we will have to spend this coming year. It is money that must be found by reducing our weekly domestic expenditure and that usually means spending less on groceries and on clothing or on the small luxuries of life.
There is jubilation all round in the plush offices of our local tax collectors because they have managed to keep the increase so low. A mere 6.1%. But memories are short. In 1998, the rise was a massive £73.44 and we thought that this would feed the beast for at least two years. No so. Despite that increase of almost 20%, it still wants more. I moved to this house in 1983 when the council tax was known as the general rate and it was then £286.22 and so in the ensuing sixteen years it has risen inexorably upwards, increasing by a staggering 140%. Services are no different today to what they were then. In fact they may even have been better but certainly the numbers of staff employed by our local councils has risen out of all proportion to what is being delivered. This is empire building on a monumental scale.
The council tax is levied to help pay for the local authority spending in our area and any remaining outlay is financed by government grants, business rates, fees, charges and other income. The bulk of what we pay goes to Lincolnshire County Council while the rest goes to the Lincolnshire Police Authority and to South Kesteven District Council. All of these authorities keep a safe distance from each other when it comes to apportioning blame for increases in the council tax but they are collectively responsible for the money we have to find each year and as we pay it directly to South Kesteven District Council which acts as tax collector, then they are in the firing line for our complaints. Perhaps they can first explain why they have not stuck to the government guidelines by keeping this year's increase to 4.5% or less, although even the Whitehall figure is almost double the rate of inflation.
But where does this money go? Why is so much extra needed year by year? It does not take that much thought to realise that if services are not being increased, and in many cases reduced, less money should be required not more. The iniquitous burden of council tax is imposed on top of the other official demands for our cash such as income tax, VAT on goods and services as well as a multitude of other charges, levies, licences and duties, and we who have to cough up should understand that the first slice of the cake in this instance goes to pay the staff employed in local government and they expect an annual increase and frequent enhancement of their pension, holiday and expenses entitlements. The majority of workers in the private sector in this country are given salary increases and other increments only if and when they deserve it but the annual pay rise has become one of the rewards of working in the sinecure employment of the public sector such as local and national government, the police force, the public utilities and the National Health Service and it is totally unwarranted.
Why should a public body award its staff more pay each year for delivering less and yet this system has become de rigueur and is no longer questioned? It is in the labyrinthine offices of bureaucracy that the superannuated idlers and time-servers can not only survive but also flourish and even have their careers crowned with the ultimate public achievement of a gong in the New Year Honours List. There is a hardly a man or woman in Bourne who cannot relate some horror story or another about the inefficiency or inadequacy of our public services and yet year after year they come to us cap in hand and ask for more. Although we are told that South Kesteven District Council employs an astonishing 575 people, you will look in vain through the financial information sent out with the council tax demands to find the total wages bill but from a gross expenditure of over £42 million, I have calculated that the council pays out one third of it in salaries and other personal benefits to those it employs. This may be an under estimation but there is no doubt that we are paying much of our council tax to keep people in jobs rather than finance public services.
We should have less government not more, a smaller administration with far fewer staff, and so we would need to pay less tax to maintain them but in the current climate of a galloping bureaucracy, such a scenario will remain in the realms of fantasy. The list of civil servants grows apace, the government appoints new quangos almost daily, more administrations are formed for this and for that area of Britain while those in power continue to strain the public purse to breaking point because they know that out there in the real world is a continuing source of income that will keep the system going and this seemingly inexhaustible supply of cash that replenishes the coffers year after year comes from you and me. This is food for thought when you pick up you pen to sign that cheque to settle your current council tax demand and remember that whatever the politicians say in the meantime, next year it will be higher still.
Not all of our farmers treat the public in such a cavalier manner as that described recently in this column by the indiscriminate use of audio bird scarers, the spreading of chemicals in unsuitable weather conditions and by leaving mud on our roads and so creating major traffic hazards. There are those who think a great deal of the environment, their community and their fellow man. The village scene at Keisby, seven miles north west of Bourne, has been greatly enhanced by a local farmer, Mr Alan Richardson, who has spent time and money on creating a small but picturesque lake for all to enjoy. The work was carried out in 1976 when he brought in a bulldozer and a digger to clear the area and create an island in the middle. The basin soon filled naturally with water and he has also built a culvert to control the level during the year. Mr Richardson, who lives opposite at Villa Farm, owns the land but welcomes caring visitors and he has even planted trees and flowers and placed a seat on the edge of the lake for all to enjoy the view. He tells me that this beautiful facility has no name and so I shall give it one and call it Keisby Pool. I do hope that he agrees and that it will remain in perpetuity.
I had hoped to hear from Councillor John Kirkman who signed my guest book after being mentioned here recently (Diary 13th March 1999) in connection with a statement he issued to the local press that he intended to stand for the local elections in May and to serve as a councillor if he wins, despite being out of the country for the hustings and for several months afterwards. He said that "some of the details included in your latest Diary about me are incorrect" but he left no return email address for me to pursue the matter and correct any of the alleged inaccuracies and I must report that he has been silent on this matter and that his email anonymity continues. Readers of this Diary will therefore draw their own conclusions. Councillor Kirkman is standing by for a tour of duty as a meteorological officer with the Royal Air Force in Ascension Island, 3,000 miles away from the people he hopes will be voting for him and who he will be representing if he wins. The local newspapers have now started carrying the story and one of them, the Stamford Herald and Post, quotes Councillor Kirkman as saying: "I am still not one hundred per cent sure the Ministry of Defence need my services yet." Do I detect a volte-face in favour of common sense and of true democratic representation?
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