Bourne Diary - April 1999
by
Rex Needle
Saturday 3rd April 1999
Litter louts and rubbish dumpers are the modern enemies of society because they deface the environment and leave their garbage for someone else to clear up. The problem has always been with us but has become worse in recent years because the motor car enables them spread their mess even further afield and often under cover of darkness. The official collections in Bourne are quite adequate because each house is allowed up to five plastic bags full each week while refuse vehicles are always in attendance at the Rainbow Superstore car park every Saturday morning and if the unwanted items are too large and bulky for that, then it only takes a telephone call and a small fee for them to be collected and disposed of. Such arrangements by South Kesteven District Council should be sufficient for the most fastidious to keep their homes neat and tidy and free from junk but for some, the system is not enough and the sight of domestic detritus lying on our roadside verges and blocking ditches, dykes and streams is now a common one. A favourite target is along the fen end of Mill Drove on the outskirts of Bourne where cars often stop while the drivers empty their boot of rubbish and then drive off completely unconcerned at the mess they have left behind, defacing the countryside and often creating a hazard for wildlife.
This week, on the old Roman road just south of Threekingham, I came across a couple of old mattresses that had been dumped by some anti-social scoundrel rather than use the facilities on offer. This unwanted bedding had been deliberately left, probably at night, in a roadside drainage dyke for the local farmer to clear up. There is much talk these days of greater public access to the countryside and landowners are being asked to open up more of their acres to ramblers but who can blame them if they refuse after seeing this picture which illustrates the total disregard that some people have for our rural surroundings. The dumping of rubbish, or fly tipping, is illegal and offenders face prosecution and so anyone who sees such incidents should provide names and vehicle registration numbers if known to the council's Environmental Health Services department and this should be regarded as a public duty rather than the actions of the snooper. In the meantime, if anyone out there recognises these mattresses and knows the owner, you now know what he did with them.
Public debate has a long and honoured history. It is the basis of democracy and free speech and it was practised at its most perfect in Forum Romanum, the main forum of ancient Rome that has influenced so much of our life today in art and architecture, law and literature, morals and philosophy. The privilege of being able to stand up and speak one's mind to an assembled company is the sign of a civilised society but is also the first freedom to be withdrawn when governments overreach their authority or despots seize power. We have not yet reached such a state of misrule in Britain but we must be ever watchful that our basic rights are not eroded by stealth or abandoned through disuse.
Many of us are greatly concerned about the inadequacy of our local press in giving a voice to the people. There was a time when the newspapers devoted a great deal of space to the opinions of its readers and the Letters to the Editor feature filled several columns but those in charge of these publications are now more interested in advertising than editorial and so matters which concern the public greatly either pass without comment or contributions are squeezed to a minimum while those which are printed are often heavily censored by the editor's blue-pencil. The town needs a public platform unfettered by commercial interest and as the Internet has given everyone the chance to have their say on matters of public interest, we hope to provide it here for those who are interested in Bourne and the surrounding villages.
This will be the medium for open discussion by anyone who wishes to debate any subject of current interest, whether it be changes in our environment, new developments, planning applications, the conduct of our public servants and elected councillors, education, leisure activities and our heritage. The new feature will be known as Bourne Forum and is introduced today. There is no restriction on the subject matter and although we welcome strong argument and forceful opinion, we do ask you to observe the proprieties of brevity, courtesy and of language.
Bourne is not to have an absentee councillor after all. I have finally received an email from Councillor John Kirkman concerning the various criticisms here and in the local newspapers questioning his judgement in fighting 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. Councillor Kirkman labels himself as an Independent and since making my first comments on this matter (Diary 13th March 1999) I have learned that in the coming elections he is likely to face a formidable opponent in Mrs Robbie Britton, who has much experience as a local councillor and is a stalwart member of the Labour Party. He now tells me that his employers have asked him to remain in England after all and so he will be here both during and after the elections but he assures me that this decision is totally unrelated to election issues and he hopes that the voters do not believe otherwise. I am pleased to report these developments and await the results in the Bourne East ward with particular interest. Local elections would be very dull indeed without a little excitement along the way.
Saturday 10th April 1999
There are times when I think that our local government officers have elevated procrastination and obfuscation to an art form, when even the simplest of problems presented to them is treated as an insurmountable difficulty. The main A15 road north of Bourne is one of the most dangerous in South Lincolnshire. It is narrow, winding and undulating with sharp bends and blind hills but despite these hazards, drivers fail to take sufficient care and there have been many fatalities in recent years. The members of Morton Parish Council are particularly concerned because the road runs through their village and the speed of vehicles passing through is often frightening. They would therefore like to see some measure of safety introduced for cyclists, the most vulnerable of our wheeled road users, and what better way than to upgrade the existing footpath alongside the road to a cycleway where they could pedal between Bourne and Morton with complete confidence.
A simple "Yes" from Lincolnshire County Council would have sufficed but that is far too straightforward and uncomplicated for the official mind. Instead, villagers have been told: "The county council has agreed to get its design group to consider the proposal." They now face months of pontificating behind closed doors, site inspections, on the spot consultations, joint meetings, probably even detailed drawings, and then consideration by the appropriate committees and full council. This is the unacceptable face of officialdom. Do the views of the parish council mean nothing? All that is needed is permission to cycle on a rarely used footpath to avoid the danger from passing traffic but it will be at least a year before such a move gets the official seal of approval. I therefore have a little bit of advice for the villagers of Morton and anyone else who cycles this way: use the footpath and be damned. My wife and I have been pedalling along this route on our bikes for years and we have always used the footpath because to cycle on the road at this point is to take your life in your hands. We do not intend to be clipped and even killed by a speeding container lorry just because the officers at county hall are once again sitting on their hands.
Auditory bird scarers were heard in the Bourne area again this week but the sound was much louder than usual. The source was traced to a field of spring wheat between North Road and Meadow Drove south of Dyke village where the farmer who installed the device had used a bottomless oil drum to enhance the noise of the explosions from a propane gas gun and as the wind was blowing in the direction of the town, home owners in the Stephenson Way area, barely two hundred yards away, got the full force of the blast every fifteen minutes.
I was one of those in the firing line and I can see and hear the gun as I write and so I telephoned the farmer to complain and pointed out that he was in breach of several clauses of the Codes of Practice drawn up by the National Farmers Union for the use of bird scarers. Fortunately, he turned out to be a reasonable man and after removing the oil drum and modifying the timer on the bird scarer he called at my house to discuss the problem and we came to an amicable agreement about its use. If all of our local farmers approached this problem with the same rationality and regard for others, there would be less conflict between town and country.
However, I have learned something from this incident: these audio bird scarers do not work and farmers who insist on using them would be well advised to save their time and money. The gas gun in this instance was being used in an attempt to scare crows away from the green shoots of the cereal crop just pushing their way through the soil and as my first floor study window overlooks this particular field, I had the opportunity to observe the reaction of these birds to these periodic explosions for several hours. There were two discharges from the apparatus in quick succession every fifteen minutes and at the start, the crows scattered each time they sounded and then settled back on the land within minutes but after an hour, they took to the sky only after the first bang and were flying back in ready to land when the second one sounded. An hour after that, they hardly lifted their heads whenever the gun went off.
The NFU code says that birds scared off by these appliances take around fifteen minutes to regroup but my observations indicate that with crows, this is incorrect and that they flocked back within minutes, later within seconds and finally they were completely immune to any of the explosions. It would therefore seem that farmers gain little or no practical advantage from the use of these gadgets that are installed purely with the intention of sending these feathered intruders to another farmer's land. So much for countryside neighbourliness. This is the NIMBY syndrome writ large. It would take only two or three like-minded farmers installing similar equipment to muster more fire-power than a pheasant shoot on Boxing Day. Prolonged explosions only increase the antagonism the public has for their activities and a little more common sense and an acceptance of the realities of life would not go amiss.
I was a little hasty in praising the efficiency of South Kesteven District Council's refuse collection services last week because hardly had the Diary been posted on Saturday morning than pandemonium reigned in the Rainbow Superstore car park, the collection point where refuse vehicles usually gather to take our excess household and garden waste. It is always a hectic occasion with little organisation as everyone pushes forward to dump their loads in the yawning openings at the back of the trucks while the blue-overalled staff in attendance stand back in a small crowd and smoke or discuss that afternoon's football matches, but despite their total lack of co-operation, the system usually works and many tons of rubbish are disposed of in this way. Drivers arriving on Saturday however were greeted not by the refuse vehicles but a huge pile of rubbish that was getting bigger by the minute because what organisation there usually is was completely non-existent. For a while, there were no vehicles and so frustrated visitors just dumped their loads and drove off, leaving the car park in a very sorry state.
Staff shortages or a lack of vehicles or a combination of both must have been to blame for the confusion and disorder and at one point so many cars crammed into the car park that none could move either forward or backward and I am surprised that no one was hurt in the crush. Eventually a truck came speeding in and space was cleared for it to park but by now the pile was so extensive that the entire operation was completely out of control and many people turned round and took their rubbish home again.
By the end of the morning, the mountain of rubbish had been cleared away by the contractors who operate this service on behalf of the council but what a palaver. There were many disparaging comments from the crowd, the most popular being that those responsible could not organise a booze-up in a brewery and certainly one must question the competence of those in charge for turning such a simple Saturday morning task into complete and utter chaos.
When I have mentioned inefficiency in our refuse and recycling systems in the past, the mayor, Councillor Don Fisher, has said that this only happens at Christmas time (Diary 9th January 1999) and so I took this picture just for him. Perhaps this time he, or one of his fellow councillors, will have a word with the appropriate authority to ensure that it does not happen again because the conditions created could have resulted in a very serious accident.
Saturday 17th April 1999
Many of the fields around Bourne have turned a golden yellow in recent weeks as hundreds of acres of oilseed rape burst into flower. Some people claim that this bright colour is garish and one that intrudes upon the traditional English landscape and although it may be unfamiliar to some because its appearance in many areas is comparatively recent, it has in fact been with us for centuries. The Dutch engineers who came here to drain the fens in the 17th century were the first to plant oilseed rape (Brassica napus) in Britain because they needed the oil it produced to lubricate their drainage pumps and the image of oilseed rape remained industrial until the 1970's when it began to be promoted as an edible oil, a home-grown alternative to groundnuts, sunflowers and soya.
Since then, acreage has increased enormously and the yellow flowers have become a common sight in the farming counties and here in the Bourne area, the crops can be seen in abundance and their strong smelling scent wafts across the road as you pass. It is perhaps the most frequently planted break crop for the revenue from a good harvest of rape seed can equal or exceed that of wheat because it can be sold for a good price to the crushing mills for conversion into vegetable oil and its high profit potential has lured many farmers away from continuous cereals.
Rape is drilled in late August immediately after the cereal harvest and the seeds, contained in long pods at the top of the stem, are ready for combining the following summer but they must not be left to become too ripe otherwise the pods shatter before they enter the combine and the small brown seeds are lost. Many farmers therefore cut it early and let it dry in the field, a practice known as swathing, and these piles of dried stalks thrown into rows by the cutter can often be seen in the fields in late summer. The combine is then able to pick up the dried rape and thresh it with less wastage.
The sight of huge swathes of this crop in the countryside is a sure sign that spring is well and truly here but there are some who object to the name oilseed rape and all that it implies, claiming that it does not sit easily with the glorious sight of acre after acre of beautiful yellow flowers giving off their pungent smell. Many farmers in Britain now merely use the term oilseed but political correctness in North America has taken its identification a step forward. A friend in British Columbia, Canada, tells me that the name has been changed to canola and the resulting oil product which is sold for cooking is known as canola oil.
We are a small market town with a population of under 12,000, tucked away off the beaten track in South Lincolnshire, and many people move here seeking the rural seclusion that has eluded them in the big cities. They buy the new houses that are part of our prosperity because the building of them stimulates growth and those who purchase bring their spending power with them for local businesses. They may have escaped the daily crime menace in the conurbations of London and Birmingham, Manchester and Coventry, where burglary and muggings are endemic, where many streets are unsafe to walk at night and it is inadvisable to leave your home unattended, and although we have not yet encountered these extremes in Bourne, we must be ever vigilant.
Closed circuit television has proved effective in helping police make arrests and in cutting the crime rate in the town centre over the past six months, particularly in North Street after the public houses have closed. Yobs intoxicated by strong ale have been the cause of damage and disorder in the past but they now think twice before creating havoc because the big brother eye of CCTV keeps them under constant surveillance as they stagger their way down the street in search of fast food outlets.
The seven-camera system is now fully in place to monitor these nocturnal anti-social activities and of mayhem, especially on Saturday nights and a further camera to cover South Street is likely to be operational by the summer. But what a sad state of affairs it is that those who move here hoping to spend their final years in some quiet and seclusion should find that Bourne is in danger of becoming a microcosm of the very places they have just left. We may not have the serious crime of the inner cities but there is sufficient to turn our town into a fortress at night with high wire fences encircling our schools and factories, metal shutters over shop windows, heavy gates to protect commercial premises and even metal spikes that have recently been installed around the Royal Mail delivery office behind the main Post Office in West Street, and now surveillance cameras to monitor our movements.
All of these mechanical aids have been installed as the police presence diminishes. Our council tax goes up annually, a large part of it apportioned to finance the police authority, but as the bill rises our protection decreases and the once familiar sight of a bobby on the beat is a thing of the past. The only time you will see a uniformed policeman in Bourne is in the front of a passing patrol car or trying to catch speeding motorists in West Street with their new-fangled radar equipment. If we do not have a constable on the beat during the day, you surely will not see one at night and our security and feeling of well being is the poorer for it.
Saturday 24th April 1999
The decline in our wild flowers in recent years is a continuing disappointment for those of us who love the spring because it is at this time of year when they are at their best. But the disappearance of old hay meadows and old grassland, the widespread use of farm chemicals, industrial and metropolitan encroachment and the digging up of plants for private gardens, has drastically reduced their natural habitats and so it is a delight to find those secret places where they still thrive, their annual life cycle uninterrupted by the hand of man, their worst enemy.
A few days ago we visited Irnham, a beautiful and secluded village six miles north west of Bourne, full of friendly stone cottages, a spacious old church and a Tudor hall on the edge of a wooded park which all blend to create a picture of neighbours in harmony. The church of St Andrew, which dates back to the 13th century, is hidden by trees near the grounds of the hall and the churchyard is one of those quiet places that lovers of the countryside have come to regard as God's little acre, one of the most enduring features of the English landscape. Over many years, our churchyards have established themselves as unofficial nature reserves where an abundance and diversity of indigenous and naturalised wildlife flourishes undisturbed and now provide a sanctuary for all kinds of flowering plants, shrubs and rare species of ferns, mosses, lichens and fungi, and that is what we found at Irnham.
A young couple passed us at the churchyard gate and the delight on the faces was unmistakable. "The primroses are utterly enchanting", said the lady, and so it proved. There were masses of them growing in the shaded, grassy places between the tombstones, a riot of pale and deep yellow flowers and bright green corrugated leaves and we wandered around for some time finding new patches at every turn but anxious not to step on one single, delicate bloom.
Primroses (Primula vulgaris) have always been a well-loved wild flower in England and were once planted on graves which is probably how they arrived in the churchyard at Irnham in centuries past. They were once highly regarded for their medicinal properties and during mediaeval times, an ointment made from primrose leaves boiled with lard was used by woodsmen in the New Forest to treat cuts while on May Day, bunches of primroses were laid on the floor of cowsheds to protect cattle from witches at a time when they were considered to be at their most active.
The cowslip (Primula veris) comes from the same family as the primrose and also had similar uses and spurred on by my discovery in Irnham churchyard, I went in search of them. Last year, I found them in abundance on a stretch of roadside verge alongside the quiet country road between Hanthorpe and Edenham but last week there were hardly any in sight at this location and I wondered if perhaps they had been picked by someone for the kitchen because the flowers in full bloom make a very delicate wine. The name cowslip is a polite form of cowslop or cowpat, referring to its occurrence in scattered clumps in cattle pasture land. The flowers were collected in April or May to make the wine which was once recommended as a cure for insomnia while an ointment made from the flowers was claimed to cure spots and wrinkles.
Cowslips, like primroses, are a protected species and it is now illegal to pick them or dig them up and yet there seemed fewer about than in previous years. Were the vandals abroad in the countryside yet again? I drove around for over an hour determined to find some and eventually came across several patches on the wide grassy verges of the back road between Greatford and Belmesthorpe, nodding their dainty heads in the gentle breeze of a sunny April morning, and so my journey was well worthwhile.
The streets and shops in Bourne fell silent again on Tuesday as children went back to school after the Easter break. They have been away from their desks for over three weeks and each holiday gets longer as the years go by yet the necessity for such extended breaks is totally unjustified. While these youngsters were kicking their heels with boredom, members of the National Union of Teachers, Britain's biggest teaching trade union, voted at their annual conference in Brighton to stage a one-day walkout in protest at the government's plans for appraisals of their abilities, the prelude to performance-related pay. Boycotts are also promised and for good measure, the union vowed to take strike action when necessary.
In another development, the government announced a strange scheme to give brighter pupils extra tuition out of hours and while all of this was going on, our children have been whiling away their time watching daytime television, playing football in the streets, lounging about the town centre, clattering noisily through the shops and supermarkets or mischief making in some corner of the neighbourhood.
The answer to this bizarre situation is that the school holidays are far too long. We are repeatedly being told that educational standards are in decline and that many children leave school without the rudiments of a basic education such as reading and writing and arithmetic yet they are sent home for long periods between terms and even at half-term while their teachers huddle at their conferences devising even more sinister ways of disrupting the schools system in their favour.
The longest holidays in Britain are enjoyed by the very two sections of society that should be working every available hour for the benefit of Britain now and in the future: our schools and our Parliament. What a topsy-turvy world we live in. But then, like many of our teachers, our politicians are not setting the nation's children much of an example in duty and responsibility. The country has been in the middle of an undeclared war on Yugoslavia for the past four weeks with innocent people being bombed and killed daily and yet Parliament has not been sitting for much of this time because our MPs have been off on their own long Easter holidays.
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