Jonathan Dodd‘s latest column. Guest opinion articles do not necessarily reflect the views of the publication. Ed
What a lovely day. It seems like years since I was able to go out without my hat or coat, whether for warmth or protection, and at last it really feels like the worst of the awful weather has passed us by. We have washing actually drying on the line, everything’s in bud, and the clouds are scudding across a pure blue sky, all to a soundtrack of birds calling to each other as they prepare their nests for the next generation.
We’re just back from Cornwall. We had some wet weather down there, and a few days like today would have been nice, but we had a good time, and it was good to get away for a short break. We went to Mousehole (which rhymes with arousal!), a tiny fishing village perched like a verruca on the big toe of the country, with tiny little fisherman’s cottages crowding together and narrow streets just drivable as long as you don’t meet someone coming the other way.
With a great booming noise
Our cottage was right on the harbour, which completely emptied of water at low tide, and there was a small car park with an honesty box for payment, mostly taken up by upside-down boats. The harbour never saw anything come or go, because there was a great gate across the gap between the harbour arms. Huge wooden beams fitted into a groove on each side, and the waves shook them at regular intervals with a great booming noise. Amazingly, there were also two defibrillators ready to use, one on each side of the harbour.
Because it was early March there wasn’t much going on. A few shops and restaurants were open, but most were still shut up waiting for the summer crowds to arrive. There seemed to be very few people around either, and most of the houses were empty, also waiting for holiday-makers. It was very quiet.
Reminders of the tin mines and fishing fleets
Cornwall is a wild and rugged place, with rocky coasts and cliffs and most of the trees bent over by the wind. All the older houses are built with thick stone walls and reminders of the tin mines and fishing fleets are everywhere. It seems that all the new things there are aimed at the money brought in by tourists. There are lots of beautiful wind turbines, which sweep majestically amongst the hills and are completely ignored by grazing sheep.
The most surprising thing was the price of houses. Even tiny properties were much more expensive than here on the Wight. Given that there’s a lot of unemployment there and a lot of seasonal work, I would have expected the prices to be similar, but it seems that Cornwall is much more of a Mecca for well-off buyers of second homes or buy-to-let holiday rental properties. I felt very sad for the locals, who surely stand no chance of getting on the property ladder.
A long drive or an expensive railway journey
Cornwall also felt much more cut-off from the rest of the country than we are here. It’s a long drive or an expensive railway journey from somewhere like London, and although we complain justly about the ferries, we’re only two hours away from London once we get to Portsmouth or Southampton.
I do worry about the Wight. I think we should be giving the highest priority to the acquisition of new job-creating businesses and industries, to keep our young people here and to attract new people to the Island who will want to stay and make their lives here, instead of waiting to be promoted to more attractive parts of the country. I worry that we already have the makings of an economy like Cornwall, which is beautiful and very popular for holidays, but has very little for its people to do the rest of the year.
We didn’t meet anyone with seven wives
While we were going to St Ives we didn’t meet anyone with seven wives, but we did stop at a little village called Pendeep for a cup of coffee and a scone.
There wasn’t much there apart from a pottery and a church, where the vicarage had just burnt down. They were most concerned about the vicar’s diaries of 50 years of living there being sadly destroyed while he was conducting a service. The coffee shop was very busy, full of locals, and Heather, the proprietor, was delightful and baked a mean scone. She had moved there from Yorkshire to set up a teashop. I wonder how many of her regular customers were local and how many had migrated there.
I want our Island to be a vibrant place, full of enterprise and opportunities as well as a wonderful place to come for a holiday. I think there are things we need to do to make sure this happens, and I worry that we’re not engaging with this properly.
Much as I like to visit Cornwall, it doesn’t feel like a place I would like to live all year round. The Isle of Wight does, and I love living here. Let’s hope it doesn’t change for the worse, and let’s doubly hope it becomes an even better place to live.
If you have been, thank you for reading this.
Image: NP Holmes under CC BY 2.0
Image: Bill Henderson under CC BY 2.0
Image: David Hawgood under CC BY 2.0
Image: Kenneth Allen under CC BY 2.0
Image: John Spivey under CC BY 2.0
