Poundbury: No green halo
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The prince's model village, already riven by taunts of 'them and us',
is now further split by the felling of trees. Mark Townsend reports on
a
royal vision that has lost its green halo
Sunday April 4, 2004 The Observer
It was a vision of a classless society that would bring to life
the
Prince of Wales's architectural blueprint for Britain. Yet Poundbury,
the
village created as an exercise in social engineering, is in revolt.
Amid
deepening resentment towards its creator, Prince Charles's model town
is
accused of spoiling the beauty of Dorset it was conceived to
complement.
Tensions have reached a new level with an avenue of tall ash
trees
lining the old Roman road that snakes westwards through Poundbury from
Dorchester being razed to the ground. For decades, locals had been
proud of
their famous avenue. Instead there is now an ensemble of mud-spattered
building huts and mounds of gravel as Poundbury encroaches on to more
prime
pasture. Prince Charles's office is blaming the contractors for being
over-zealous, but there is no promise that any more trees will be
replanted.
The row has exposed the mounting antipathy towards the
development,
which has grown from being a village into a mini-town; it is only
one-sixth
of the 400-acre site it will eventually cover. Environmentalists argue
that
it is an act which has undermined the prince's green credentials. They
claim
there is hypocrisy in his repeated demands to protect Britain's
countryside
while building on land which brings yet more traffic and housing to a
once
tranquil area.
For many in Dorset, the quaint cottages and mock-Georgian
façades, so
sought-after by wealthier couples, are little more than an upper-class
ghetto, inappropriate to the area and ridiculed by people on nearby
council
estates. There are also questions over whether it has lived up to the
prince's original ambitions to have a socially integrated community.
Working-class families and single mothers are offered low-cost rented
homes
in Poundbury, cheek by jowl with those able to afford £450,000 for a
second
home. Some admit that the mix makes them uncomfortable.
But most of the local population can only dream of moving into
the
strangely quiet streets. One of its principal developers - CG Fry & Son
-
admits as much. Homes start at £215,000, 'a lot of money down here',
according to a company salesman. In fact, it is almost nine times the
average regional salary.
The divide between the haves and have-nots is more than fiscal.
Even
the wrought-iron bollards that dissect side-streets connecting
Dorchester's
council estates to the Duchy town are laden with symbolism. Sally
Faulkener,
a mother who has lived on the estate beside Poundbury for 15 years,
said:
'It has become a case of them and us.'
The definition of 'them ' has come to signify a homogeneous
population
of the white, rich and retired. Those working in Poundbury do not
recall a
single black or Asian resident. 'There is one English chap of Japanese
descent. Does that count?' asked one.
The young generation, particularly children, are conspicuously
absent.
Staff at The Poet Laureate pub, named after the prince's late friend
Ted
Hughes, talk of a small group of 30 young adults who have moved into
the
cosy flats above Poundbury's Budgens village store. In an apparent move
to
balance the bias, Britain's youngest landlord, Will Hadlow, has taken
over
the pub which had been empty for two years. 'It's getting younger all
the
time, but there's still a lot of old people around.'
At Poundbury, one in five homes has been offered to those on
local
authority housing lists, yet even those helped by the hand of royalty
can
remain non-plussed. Mary (not her real name) moved into Poundbury from
the
adjoining council estate two months ago; now she wants to move back.
The
myriad building styles in a tight space have left her cold, her 20ft
garden
is too small and there is no privacy.
'I think it's horrible, an eyesore, it's all so
higgledy-piggledy. The
house itself is lovely inside, but I wish I could move back to the
estate.'
She stopped to put down the shopping she was lugging up the hill
towards the
Duchy territory - there is a distinct lack of public transport to serve
the
community.
Supporters point out that Poundbury has a lower crime rate than
other
parts of the county; even the gravel laid down on the roads is an
anti-theft
device because of the noise it makes underfoot. But crime does exist
amid
its high-density maze of beige stone and slate-roofed homes because the
inhabitants clearly have more income than those in nearby streets. Even
Simon Conibear, Charles's ambassador in the village and Poundbury's
development manager, had his bike stolen. 'But it was unlocked and
crime is
half what would normally be expected in an area like this,' he said.
What cannot be doubted is that Poundbury has become a cash cow,
not
only for developers but Charles himself. According to Hadlow, the Duchy
takes 10 per cent of profits from the pub where the prince pops in
twice a
year to sup IPA ale. A more usual arrangement, say brewing industry
sources,
involves landlords paying rent and receiving drink from a brewer while
keeping all profit from food and other services. Similarly, the land on
which the prince's Poundbury stands has efficiently churned out huge
profits. Initially each of Poundbury's 400 acres was sold at £40,000.
Experts now say they are sold for at least 12 times that. Such
astonishing
growth has helped Prince Charles - himself worth more than £380m - to
post
record profits for his 700-year-old Duchy estate.
He has now won key planning approval for a second town, built
partly
on Duchy land. 'Surfbury', as it has been dubbed, will be on the
southeast
fringes of Newquay in Cornwall, within two miles of Fistral Bay, the
centre
of British surfing. Some local people have already questioned the scale
of
the development and whether it is necessary in a county which already
struggles to cope with its traffic, particularly in summer.
There are many fans, some influential, who love Poundbury.
Musician
Jools Holland and Deputy Prime Minister John Prescott, who has
sanctioned a
massive home-building programme across southern England, are among
those
impressed by its architecture and vision. Evidence of a community is
already
evident among the town hall's noticeboards and their adverts detailing
football teams, petanque practice and theatre groups. So far 700 people
have
settled there - the target is 5,000 by the time it is completed in
2025.
Surveys indicate the majority are happy and feel secure, whatever other
locals feel.
Whether the ash trees that lined the Bridport Road will be
replaced
remains unclear. According to the Duchy, an over-eager contractor made
a
mistake in tearing them out. The Duchy is quick to counter that the
trees
chopped down were not the same as the magnificent nineteenth-century
specimens destroyed by disease in the 1970s. But the replacements were
popular and added to the landscape.
Poundbury was little more than a nondescript housing estate
clinging
to the northern edge of Dorchester before Charles took the name in
1984; now
the people there want it back. 'We've asked him, but what can you do
when
royalty wants something?' said John Neale, who has lived on the
original
Poundbury estate for 44 years.
Reclaiming Poundbury as their own has become a totem for many in
the
area as disquiet towards the landed gentry mounts. 'The problem is that
what
the Duchy wants, the Duchy gets,' said John Carter, whose vista of the
rolling fields towards Maiden Castle was obliterated by the arrival of
the
Duchy dream. Neale's neighbours claim their estate of rolling lawns,
neat
housing and children playing in the streets offers a superior version
of
community than that created by Charles and his Austrian architect, Leon
Krier. 'I wouldn't live there. Those houses are all on top of one
another,'
said a pensioner, tending daffodils in the spring sunshine.
http://www.guardian.co.uk/monarchy/story/0,2763,1185504,00.html