Ferdinand Mount |
|
In Prescott Country, Only the Gypsies Win |
|
Sunday Times 8 August 2004 |
I like the look of John Prescott's house. Not his grace-and-favour London apartment in Admiralty House, nor his official country residence, Dorneywood, in Buckinghamshire, and certainly not the flat in south London that he had a spot of bother about with his old union, the RMT. No, I mean the house in his Hull constituency, the one I imagine he thinks of as home. I certainly would. It is a long, rambling place with projecting battlemented wings in the Tudor style, each adorned with a coat of arms.
In the middle there is a handsome Queen Anne revival pediment of the sort Norman Shaw would have been proud of; you can see lots of similar ones with their characteristic bay windows in Shaw's delightful arts and crafts suburb of Bedford Park, west London, often painted by the French impressionist Pissarro and once inhabited by Lucinda Lambton, the high priestess of architectural extravagance.
I apologise for going on about the deputy prime minister's home at such length, but I am sure it really will grow into a place where children love to run from one end to the other, with plenty of space for Mrs Prescott to escape to when the DPM is in one of his more volcanic moods. The only sad thing is that if Mr Prescott has his way no such house will ever be built in the English countryside again. For last week he issued a revised version of Planning Policy Statement No 7 which now stipulates that houses may obtain planning permission to be built in officially designated countryside only if "the design is truly outstanding and groundbreaking".
According to Prescott's understrapper, the planning minister Keith Hill, the government intends to "change the face of new country-house architecture from a pastiche of historical styles to innovative, cutting-edge design". So no more Norman Shaw, no more gothic revival, no more mock Tudor, no neo-Georgian -- and no more Prescott Towers, which is an endearing pastiche of all these styles put together.
In future, that nouveau riche pile in its own spacious grounds that you see catching the setting sun will be constructed out of a challenging melange of glass and steel and concrete. In a twirly bit of spin shameless even for new Labour, the office of the DPM released along with PPS7 several statements from architects such as Lord Foster and Lord Rogers saying how farsighted Prescott was being. Seldom was a stitch-up between vested interests so flagrantly celebrated. Modernist architects who were receiving few commissions to design private houses have colluded with Labour politicians furious that toffs such as Lord Rothermere are building classical-revival houses by the likes of Quinlan Terry.
After the five-year plans for our schools and hospitals, we now have a 100-year plan for our architecture. For, as you will recall, Hazel Blears, the Home Office minister, has just informed us that Labour expects to be in power for decades. It is hard to think of a more sweeping attempt by the state to dictate taste since the doge of Venice decreed that all gondolas in future should be painted black (yes, I know Henry Ford had the same idea about his cars, but you could always buy a Buick or a Studebaker instead). To arrogate such ludicrously inflated powers suggests that Prescott is as blind to the proper limits of government in a free society as he is to the history of architecture.
Revival and reinterpretation are the lifeblood of architecture, as they are in most arts. Britain's first classical architect, Inigo Jones, was imitating the Venetian Andrea Palladio, who was in turn imitating the ancient Roman Vitruvius. Without the revival instinct we wouldn't have half Britain's best loved buildings, from Chatsworth to Big Ben. And even self-styled modernist buildings are beginning to look a trifle derivative and dated. The gleaming white holiday home built in north Devon for the former BBC chairman Gavyn Davies has a charming 1930s look to it, and why shouldn't it? Le Corbusier, the father of modernist domestic architecture, would be a great-great-grandfather if he were alive today.
But the worst thing is not the attempt to dictate one style rather than another but the government's insistence on dictating right across the country what should be built and where. And of course the new PPS7 is a rich man's charter, just as was the original version, better known as Gummer's Law. Only if you could afford to hire a fancy architect and buy enough land to screen your new country house from the gaze of the vulgar were you to be allowed to build in any remote and picturesque spot. By contrast, if you scraped together cash to buy a wedge of land the farmer no longer wanted and set about building your own bungalow, you would be ordered to demolish the lot sharpish.
Unless, that is, you happen to be a member of the travelling community. In some of the most delectable parts of England, bands of travellers are now buying up fields of 1-20 acres. The first the neighbourhood knows of the raggle-taggle gypsies-o is when their bulldozers turn up to remove any inconvenient hedges and begin laying down drains and hard standing. Then the caravans move in. But the law does not, or at least not for a year or two. In the celebrated case of Minety, Wiltshire, a high court judge has allowed one of these illegal settlements to remain, on the grounds that evicting the inhabitants would cause hardship and suffering. So one law for the rich, and no law for the Romany.
And the rest of you had better not put up so much as a medium-sized greenhouse if you want to stay out of trouble.
No doubt I would be as aggrieved as anyone else if gypsies installed themselves illegally at the bottom of our garden. All the same, I cannot stifle a furtive twitch of exhilaration to see somebody making a mock of Britain's intolerably rigid planning laws. The 1947 Town and Country Planning Act is just about the last of Labour's post-war pieces of nationalisation and control to survive more or less intact. No wonder Mr Prescott falls on it with such delight to dictate where and what shall be built, from the country mansions of grandees to whole new settlements across southern England.
Yet this is only part of a wider pattern of government self-aggrandisement. Scarcely a day goes by without some minister or government agency handing out gratuitous advice on how we ought to live our lives: how to keep our homes hygienic, how to stop smoking, what to eat and drink (more often what not to), what to stock up with in case of national emergency, and (last week's idiocy) how to play with our children.
The only people who pay not the slightest attention to any of this appear to be the gypsies, if their uninhibited and untidy lifestyle is anything to go by. They also appear to be the only people who don't get arrested. Perhaps there might be some connection. If only I liked caravanning.
|