Beach Huts

One of the features of life in Sussex is that every so often a friend will announce that they have a beach hut. This news is invariably delivered with great excitement, as if the person had just acquired a beach-house in Santa Monica rather than a small shed in St. Leonards. They are thrilled and can’t wait to tell you about the luxury of being able to make a cup of tea down at the shore.

I find myself a little reluctant though. Perhaps this is something to do with being from Scotland. There the beach scene mainly involves running out of the freezing waves while a sandy gale whips your goose bumps. Actually the main beach activities in Scotland are putting on a woolly jumper and hitting a golf ball, but you get the idea. The beach isn’t really somewhere you hang out. Can it be so different down south? The troubles with beach huts are obvious. Not only are they diminutive, they are usually located on a stretch of stony ground in a locality whose summer climate is a byword for unreliable weather. For the rush of making your cuppa in such an environment you will pay a truly eye-watering sum.

In Notes From a Small Island Bill Bryson made much of the tentative pleasures beloved of the English. Tea-cakes and the like. Nothing too fancy or over-stimulating. Of course the adoption of racier grub and brassy Aussie wines over the last couple of decades does suggest a change in tastes. Yet the beach hut sails on, perhaps even literally during especially high tides.

Clearly, fathoming the appeal of this enduring institution required rigorous investigation. Accordingly I posed a question to all the beach hut owners of my acquaintance (five in total): what are the main benefits of owning one? Though this was a small sample I’d say that the results nonetheless capture something of the English soul.

Responses clustered into four main themes:

1) Community. Not just a community but as one respondent put it “being part of an eccentric subculture” (her hut is in Hastings). Love of others was however, accompanied by an equal desire to pretend that no-one else is actually there with you. An Englishman’s windbreak is his castle after all.

2) Escape. From teenage spliff-smoking to getting away from relatives on Christmas day. A beach hut is near enough to get to but far enough to distance you from your loved ones.

3) Being at home in the wild. All respondents cited this, as befits a nation of campers. Enjoy the elements for five minutes then retreat back for a cup of, well... tea. A subsidiary benefit cited under this heading was having all your stuff there. I would note though that on occasions when I’ve been invited to partake of the beach hut experience, my hosts have never minded filling their cars to bursting with a load more gear to supplement their store of coastal essentials. Clearly the emphasis is on home rather than wild.

4) A receptacle for the projection of fantasy. Unlikely as it sounds this seems to be the key benefit. From recreating childhood idylls to fantasising about a simpler life, beach huts are the place for it all. At its best a beach hut seems is play house for grown-ups to fulfill their more low-key aspirations.

Perhaps it is this modesty that appeals to something in the English character. Let’s face it, announcing you had that house in Malibu would strain friendships with excessive envy. Inviting friends down to Bexhill for the day is a far more agreeable exchange. Of course the comfy chairs already being there when you arrive helps. And did I mention you can make a cup of tea?

With thanks to my respondents for all their help.

Growing Your Own Vegetables

“If I could show you the cabbage that I planted with my own hands”

Thus spoke the Roman Emperor Diocletian, more famous for chucking Christians to the lions, but also someone who gave up ruling the world for the pleasures of his allotment. There are days when I fantasise about following his example, especially as it involved a palace in Croatia and a load of slaves. As well as the other pleasures of growing your own, it seems that it can end the careers of tyrants. What could possibly be the trouble with it?

It turns out you don’t have to look far. Only in fact to Lewes’ own Seedy Saturday. This is an event where you can think about interesting things to plant, the more sedentary joys of others planting things for you, and listen to Marguerite Patten reminiscing about digging for victory. Then you turn into the bookstall and find yourself in a survivalist fantasy land. Wall-to-wall self-sufficiency manuals full of advice on preparing for the apocalypse by getting in your brassicas.

The idea of us producing our own food to protect ourselves is an important part of many responses to current environmental concerns. For example the magazine “The Land” envisages an agrarian idyll where, following the collapse of capitalism, we return en-masse to growing food. An increased emphasis on food self-sufficiency is also a staple of our local Transition Town movement (they like the word “resilience”). The recent Climate Camp even invited me to “Grow my own Future”. Though I’m as fond of a metaphor as I am of a ripe Ailsa Craig and realise I won’t be picking juicy futures directly from my cold-frame, the implication is once again that growing your own is the way forward.

While this reasoning is seductive quite a lot is missing. For one thing food self-sufficiency leaves populations grubbing out a precarious existence vulnerable to climatic variations or crop failures. The opposite of resilience really. We protect against this by buying food from a number of sources and countries. We can do this because for 7,000 years or so (and especially since the industrial revolution) human society has been moving away from the mass of the population being involved in food production.  This fosters the development of income-earning and more diverse skills. We have modern medicine and science and art and philosophy and a reliable food supply because primarily we’re not all stuck on the land.

If you think the fossil fuels of capitalism are going to run out soon (though a more likely danger for our environment seems to be that they won’t) a kind of post-apocalyptic subsistence life might be one way to go.  At times it’s hard to avoid the impression that vegetable gardening has become the latest meaningless gesture for the environmentally pious. While home grown food can be great the benefits of not relying on it are even greater. So, while I’m going mulch spreading soon, I have to do a quick shop at the greengrocer first and strike a blow for a better world.

John McGowan, 5^th May 2011

Republicanism

A few years back during the Golden Jubilee, a lad in my village asked if our chimney could be used as an anchor point for some street party bunting. The source of the request allowed me to inveigh against monarchist feeling in much the same way that my elderly aunt would fret about homosexuality:  I wasn’t biased but it was sad to see it among younger people. I seemed to be a lone voice as the village was taken over by royalist fervour. It’s something of a relief therefore to be in Lewes for the Royal Wedding.  Here the heirs of Tom Paine are mustering just a single street party. Republican kudos for a town of 16,000. A quick look at the papers suggests though that this may not be the national mood. What, one wonders, is the trouble with republicanism?

It isn’t that we British necessarily have a tradition of deference. Quite the contrary; we’ve been overthrowing kings since the Battle of Lewes in 1264 (an extra republican feather in the town’s cap, though the victory was short-lived). Another near miss was the Peasants Revolt of 1381. If Wat Tyler’s mob had not arranged to negotiate with the teenaged Richard II at Smithfield (as opposed to, say, killing him) the history of Britain might have been rather different.  Regicides had better luck in 1649 with the beheading of Charles I. However, 11 years later a monarch was back: the hedonistic Charles II no doubt a welcome antidote to the Taliban-style government of the Puritans. The Brits got rid of James II in 1688 because they didn’t like the cut of his Roman Catholic jib. He was replaced by his daughter Mary (with William of Orange) and ultimately by the current dynasty leaping over 50 or so more eligible, but Roman Catholic, candidates. We’ve also been curtailing the  powers of the Sovereign since Magna Carta leading to the current “Constitutional” (all the trappings but little of the power) arrangement. The popularity of individual monarchs has yoyo-ed wildly (there were even assassination attempts on Queen Victoria) up to the last significant dip in the late 1990’s.

Despite all this we never quite seem to get rid of the monarchy itself. Perhaps the trouble is that most of our anti-royal feeling has not been about republicanism at all but rather about disliking the Sovereign's beliefs (James II, Prince Charles), behaviour (Charles I, Prince Charles) or personality (Henry III, Prince Charles). Rather oddly it’s still treasonable to advocate certain forms of republicanism. Perhaps more significantly anti-royalists continue to be marginalised as young (The Sex Pistols – at least they were once), cranks (Tony Benn) or troublemakers (Benjamin Zephaniah). Opinion polls suggest we’re still keener on the institution than a presidency (i.e. a retirement scheme for seedy political hacks). Politicians too find the royals useful and have been reluctant to act on proposals to reduce their religious and political roles further. 

Another displaced royal, King Farouk of Egypt is alleged to have said, "Soon there will be only five Kings left... Spades, Clubs, Hearts, Diamonds and England.” And who would bet against him. Though handsome young Wills hasn’t turned out quite as many would have wished, commoner Kate is looking like helping the Firm well into the post-Diana era. It seems that storming the Bastille may have to wait once again.

100 monkeys: solar so good

Last weeks sceptical assessment of the prospects for solar power led to a few responses and some further discussion. Probably only for the hardcore though...

100 monkeys: solar so good: "It was odd last week to have tow Viva Lewes columns with opposing views about solar pv, with me singing its praises and The Trouble With fe..."

Solar Power

Solar power is flavour of the month around town. With the proposed community owned power station and the Rooks thinking about getting panels, it sounds as if Lewes is leading the way into a low emissions future. In the face of environmental catastrophe, free energy from the sky certainly sounds like a tempting option. Lately I’ve been wondering though if the optimism around solar power is justified. What, one is tempted to ask, could be the trouble with energy from the sun?

Looking more closely at solar, the primary trouble is something familiar to Brits: the weather. Blighty is not a sunny climate and we use the brunt of our electricity in winter when the supply of sunshine is at its least abundant. There is also cost of installing panels. Photovoltaic panels (that’s the kind which generate electricity) for a typical house are likely be somewhere between 7 and 15 grand.  When you stick these factors together the figures don’t look encouraging, either from an individual point of view or from the wider social angle.

For individuals even the most promising scenarios suggest that if you install such panels, you might get electricity worth about 25% of the installation costs over the life of your system. While money isn’t everything, this picture would leave solar unlikely to catch on except among people who have spare cash and enjoy the warmth generated by their own piety rather than the small amount of energy they’ll get in the British winter. The last government recognised this and set up an incentive called the feed-in-tariff to encourage take-up. This involves buying any unused electricity householders generate from solar panels they’ve hooked into the National Grid (presumably mostly in the summer). The rates of payment for spare lecky are generous to put it mildly: often several times the cost of electricity generated by other sources. The question is open as to how many people this will encourage but it’s undoubtedly a nice investment opportunity for those who can afford it. The social perspective comes in when you realise that the people paying this enormous subsidy are the rest of us. Clearly this isn’t sustainable and a rather hot debate among environmental commentators right now is about whether this money would be better spent on the development of other alternatives to fossil fuels. The feed-in-tariff represents a big bet (with our money) that the price of the technology will ultimately come down and that of other energy sources will rise, to the point where solar is cost-effective.

Solar isn’t a significant energy source at the moment and there are plenty (including many earlier advocates) who doubt it ever will be, for the UK at least. You might want to consider this if you were thinking of taking a shareholding in the local power station. Is it a good bet? Or is it as big a leap of faith over sense as the Lewes Pound? For now it is worth remembering that, for something free, solar sure is expensive.

Pound for Pound

From http://www.vivalewes.com/ Nov 2008

The launch of the Lewes Pound has been the biggest thing to hit town since the boycott of the Lewes Arms all those months ago. The Pound's website promotes it as way to keep money in the local economy, cut carbon emissions and strengthen relationships with local traders. Though coverage has been everywhere (local and national) there has so far been very little discussion of what the Pound can realistically achieve. Lately I've been wondering: when all the razzmatazz, and eBay auctions are over what's the Pound really worth?

The argument that the Pound keeps money local goes something like this. Did you realise that the Lewes economy is like a bucket full of holes? Money that comes into Lewes is leaking into the globalised world beyond. The Lewes Pound will address this by ensuring that a portion of the money in circulation can only be spent in local businesses. This should maintain (and perhaps increase) spending in local shops. Just how many Pounds circulate in the local economy depends on how many people pick them up in the first place and on how many of those keep using them after the initial buzz. The arrangement is envisaged as permanent though of course it’s possible that, after dealing with two kinds of money for a while, a portion of people may find this a hassle and revert to regular cash. Though the plan is optimistic, the evidence for such complementary currencies may be less encouraging. It suggests that they have their best chance of catching on when physical money is scarce and large numbers of people really need a substitute. They literally stop money going out of town. In a country with plenty of coins, notes and plastic there just isn't the same necessity for an alternative, and complementary currency is far more likely to remain a novelty. After all people already have a way of supporting local business.

This support is given via regular money but an aim for the Pound (assuming enough people use it) is to increase the amount spent. However, here it runs into another problem. What about all those times when buying from the shop down the road is undermined by price, product range and all sorts of other factors which influence us weak-willed consumers. If you don't have a lot of money to throw around, the hole in the bucket that leads to Asda might look quite attractive. Sadly, in Lewes many small traders selling core commodities, like food and electrical goods, haven’t been able to compete in recent years. Against such forces what chance for the Lewes Pound? The example of the Totnes Pound (on which the Lewes Pound is based) is instructive. It maintains a steady circulation which implies that it at least has a number of committed advocates who keep putting it out there. However, is far from clear that it has increased spending in the local economy. In fact its circulation might just as easily mean that the market for local goods and services is fairly stable and unlikely to be dramatically altered by these kinds of initiatives.

Of all the possible benefits of the Lewes Pound, cutting carbon emissions has been put front and centre. The assumption is that keeping trade local will help the environment. Much as I love the High Street, this is not always a straightforward case to make. Sure, people walk to local shops but they also drive to them. Supermarkets often (though not always) mean you have to drive, but then larger loads can mean fewer trips. Relative to the volume of stuff they sell, large stores may have fewer deliveries than small ones as their products can often be delivered in larger amounts. Also there is no obligation on local traders to stock local goods and the products people demand mean even corner shops have a global inventory. Strange though it may sound, even if shops do have more local goods, there is no guarantee that commodities from nearby have a lower carbon footprint than stuff flown in from abroad. Local vegetables may come from heated polytunnels or British apples could have been refrigerated for months. Anyway, if we're really serious about cutting emissions internet shopping can be a more efficient way, as many deliveries can be made on one journey. It’s often complicated to calculate the carbon cost of various shopping options and proposing a vague notion of “localness” as the solution to emissions is seriously oversimplifying the issue.

All of which seems to leave us making friends with local traders. Despite some instances of traders being hassled to accept Lewes Pounds by some customers, this may be one area where the people behind the Pound are onto something. Community development is something complementary currencies can at least potentially achieve if they get beyond being simply a curiosity for the middle-class. If nothing else Lewes Pounds will give us all something to talk about now the parking has been done to death. Actually, and maybe this is the real point of the exercise, they do more than that and have been a publicity coup worthy of a town that's been grabbing headlines since Simon de Montfort. Local trading is well worth shouting about and can be wonderful in myriad ways: not least convenience, services the big boys can't match, and gluing the whole community together.

The other side of the Lewes Pound, though, is a danger that complex problems are being addressed with a romantic fantasy of self-sufficiency rather than appropriate solutions. The survival of local business in the face of globalised competition is an issue that requires action well beyond temporary hype. We need to consider many solutions from high quality start-up advice for businesses to supportive local authorities. Transition Town deserve credit for having raised a flag: it’s down to all of us to work out how to keep it flying.

The Big Society

People, it seems, are troubled by the Big Society.  The BS as I’ll call it (for the sake of brevity naturally) has been dissed by luminaries as divergent as Polly Toynbee and Peter Oborne and views range from scepticism to scorn. Lately I’ve been wondering though: isn’t Lewes the sort of place where the BS might flourish? Could Lewes be a Little-Big Society?

First let’s clarify what we’re talking about. The Conservatives made a very big deal in their manifesto of replacing some Government activity with community instigated action. Labour commanded from the centre but the Tories plan to encourage smaller scale innovations and, most particularly, help people exercise “responsibility over their lives”. Much of the debate has concentrated on an anxiety that paid-for public services will be replaced by voluntary efforts. Is this trying to get something for nothing? Can it even happen when the state is being cut? The other angst-du-jour has been that voluntary work is the province of the rich: people in places like Oxfordshire (David Cameron country), where posh MPs have no idea what it’s like for those scraping a living. One might wonder if people struggling to get by are likely to open a Free School or start a charity. Or perhaps it’s insulting to assume that they’re not?

Research on volunteering tells a more complex story. People volunteer for all sorts of reasons but the unifying one is some kind of meaningful return for the effort. Not quite something for nothing then. It also turns out it’s not exactly wealth which predicts the desire to do this. What is more important is human capital.  This involves having sufficient dosh for sure, but also requires people with spare time, skills, education and a sense of linkage to their communities. Of course, human capital is not something that is equally available to all parts of the country and the BS may thus end up giving more to those who have. To neglect this point seems simplistic and more than a little crass.

Lewes is pretty well endowed with human capital. As well as high average incomes, we have loads of community activities (just check Viva’s listings), all sorts of volunteering opportunities and vocal (if sometimes unconvincing) environmental activists. Some of the schools have a level of parental involvement that I’m sure would make many Heads sick with envy. At one stage we even had someone putting luminous stripes round dog poo (how I long for their return!)

But where does this get us? Well, that Lewes may be a place where you can see if the BS can actually lead to something productive (or at the very least minimise the damage from public sector cuts). To mangle Sinatra: if it can’t make it here it can’t make it anywhere.  On the other hand, perhaps the real trouble with the BS is that, even if it’s a success in places like Lewes, it may nonetheless turn out to be BS anyway.