Escaping Brexit Britain

Parler  de la merde

On the final evening of our two weeks in France, we visited a favourite restaurant that we had found five or six years ago. Nestled in vineyards about a kilometre from the sleepy village of Issirac, it is owned and run by a young couple who have built an upstairs and outdoor eating shelter since our last visit pre-Brexit. Le Mouton Noir encapsulates many of the characteristics of the area. The beautiful stonework in the local limestone, and simple but elegant timber finishes created by local joiners. The menu is dominated by local food products including cheeses, fruits, lamb and wines. Above our table was a picture that probably sums up what the young French restauranters think of their politicians. I only wish we had such a relatively harmless view of the candidates seeking to be our future prime minister as they excoriate each other in the honour of completing Boris Johnson's world-beating trashing of the UK.

There was no surprise that the restaurant with its friendly customer care is fully booked despite its isolated location off a paved road and 20 kilometres from the nearest town. We always return to this tranquil oasis as do many others who visit this secluded haven in rural Provence.  Even the food prices seemed about the same as on our last visit pre-Covid, although the pound has collapsed by 21% against the Euro since Brexit. 

The restaurant is an example of how localism prevails in this part of France. The roads and schools are maintained with local pride by the municipalities that are vested with powers that give them some autonomy from the distant centralised control. It is this that has allowed local ideas, projects and businesses to flourish and services to be held to account. What a contrast to top-down Britain where Westminster and Holyrood hold all the cards and are reluctant to allow priorities to be decided locally. Accountability is to government quangos and inspectorates that guarantees a plodding reluctant subservience to central diktaks with little encouragement to innovate.  

 

We spent a lot of time talking to another couple staying at the chambres d' hotes, a French wife and German husband, who lived in Switzerland where inflation was still below 3%. Like most other people we spoke to, they regarded the UK as a broken state, incapable of making rational decisions or behaving with the decorum that might be expected from a mature democratic country. They were intrigued by the Tory Party shenanigans in finding a new leader to replace the disgraced Boris Johnson. They likened it to a game show and could not understand why there was no political debate on climate change or any attempt to rebuild trust with the EU. They explained how decision-making by the EU had been hijacked by the never-ending Brexit negotiations. They explained how decisions on Horizon funding for scientific research that were crucial for the company he worked for had been held up because of the UK not following the Northern Ireland protocol. This had serious consequences for Switzerland and other non-EU countries who considered Horizon to be vital to ensure the cross-fertilisation of research. It was another reason to distrust the UK government which seemed unable to understand the basics of diplomacy.

Inflation is running at just over 5% in France compared to 10% in the UK. This is predicted to rise to 15% for the poorest households in the UK as a consequence of a threefold increase in energy prices over the year. The contrast is mainly because the French government has frozen gas prices and limited the increase in the annual cost of electricity to 4%. EDF, the state-owned power company, has to sell electricity at a price cap, The French government has also restricted energy use and reduced fuel taxes. The consequence has been a steadily growing economy with citizens and businesses able to recover from the Covid pandemic. The anxiety and fears that are gathering momentum in the UK are absent. The paradox is that the French government has intervened to reduce the increases in the market cost of energy whilst a member of the EU. The UK government, despite taking back control after Brexit, has shown no such concern and let the markets rip. It was a reminder of what it is like to be in a civilised country that is more concerned about its citizens and businesses than safeguarding the wealthy and their tax havens.

France has a constitution that enshrines powers to the regions and municipalities that have used the period of the pandemic to reflect, plan and invest in upgrading the infrastructure. There was visible evidence that this had been significant. Our nearest village with a population of about 1000 had seen a dozen or so new houses built in the vernacular style, an upgrading of the primary school, a new business hub, a new boulangerie and landscaping work in the village centre. Many roads had been resurfaced so cycling was a pleasure. The local hotel had had a makeover and a new restaurant had opened. All this positive development convinced me that localism and the need to have a constitution that embeds power in councils is essential. It is patently obvious that the Westminster government is failing in so many ways. Not least is its perilous attempts to control and dictate services from London. I would prefer Westminster to shed the vast majority of its assumed powers to the devolved nations of the UK, England's regions, the councils and local communities. Some powers would be better transferred back to the EU, which despite often torturous negotiations in setting standards and regulations, provides a more sustainable and ethical framework and prevents the flimflammery of Westminster politics. With this exemption, the principle should be to devolve to the most local level possible. Westminster should focus on truly national issues like monetary policy and regulation, foreign policy and defence, international aid, trade, and climate change.

As we left France, there were no delays in the airport other than the plane from Edinburgh arriving three hours late. Despite Liz Truss attempting to blame the French for delays at customs being the cause, there was no such problem. It was just that there was insufficient baggage handling staff at Edinburgh airport.

It made me despair at all the comments that Brexit is done, let's get on with it. Brexit has been an utter disaster and I would certainly vote for any party that promised we would apply to rejoin the EU. The only way we are going to stop our Luddite politicians from allowing sewage to enter the rivers and sea is to follow EU regulations, I trust the EU far more than the UK government to be responsible for environmental regulations and taxing global companies. They are less likely to succomb to the intensive lobbying and deals that have become the underlying curse of Westminster ministerial manipulation by the city, oligarchs and their acolytes. 

France is not perfect but it does recognise and support its communities as vital cogs in determining and delivering services. President Macron, when interviewed at the end of a stage of the Tour de France, showed how to speak with humility and respect for all nations. Whilst he displayed a deep empathy for French culture and its environment, there was no attempt to politicise or castigate others. He was statesmanlike and a genuine fan of international cycling. There was none of the gratuitous triumphalism that is the curse of the UK's clueless government politicians.

 

Ardèche Encore

Our place in the sun

We had a day to kill before our rooms at Malataverne by the Ardeche Gorge became available so we travelled across to Les Vans, a town that is the gateway to the Ardeche Regional Park. It was a late booking made whilst in France. It was worth a visit to this busy town that sits aside some wonderful limestone country in the Ardennes dissected by deep gorges. It was also the weekend after the Bastille Day celebrations and as such part of a long weekend for the French. The hotel was more of a motel with a small pool spilling over with children, bikers and hikers. Fine for a night and providing a stark contrast to the stone edifices of hospitality that became even more attractive in comparison.

I decided to travel by the D roads, across the country via Lussan, one of the 'Beautiful villages of France'. It is a fortified village situated on a limestone outcrop overlooking the vineyards of the area and a centre for the silk industry in the past. In the morning heat, its closely built houses and trees provided some protection from the sun but we were too early for lunch so travelled on to Barjac. Barjac is a favourite haunt and we had a large salad lunch before the short journey through oak forests and winding roads to Les Vans. It had been a market day and the streets were being cleaned. We explored the centre before arriving at the hotel that was close to the centre and had a pool. We had not figured on 32 rooms and most of the occupants already cooling themselves in the pool so it was slightly disappointing as was the pre-packaged breakfast. 

Sunday was exciting as we were returning to our much-loved chambres d' hotes, close to Le Garn on the edge of the Ardeche Gorge. It was only an hour and a half away so we took a minor road into the forests enclosing the Chaussez gorge and spent an hour or so on one of the many trails that included part of the GR4 that runs east to west across southern France. We crossed the Ardeche river at Ruoms and took a back road over a ridge to Barjac where we had a tapas lunch in a favourite square. We phoned to see what time we could arrive at our accommodation at La Bastide de Muriers. We were told to come now and we arrived at 2:30pm. Evelyne and Jean-Pierre, the owners had become good friends since we first stayed in 2008 and almost every year since although Covid had prevented visits in the last couple of years. They were there to greet us and provide a welcoming drink and a slice of one of Evelyne's cakes. The next few days were predicted to have record temperatures and it was already 41°C. Unpacking could wait, it was time to head for the gorgeous pool that is never crowded.

The rooms are in an old stone Mas that has been painstakingly converted with a French flair for detail. With air conditioning, it is perfect for escaping the sun and spending some time watching the Tour de France. We had no desire to travel far and in the next five days, we stayed close to the base with just a couple of meals out. Breakfasts are superb with seasonal fruits, bread, local cheese, and homemade cake. There is a small kitchen in an outside stone hut that allows simple meals to be prepared. And that was it. I read a couple of books, watched the swifts that were nesting in stonework outside our room fledge their chicks, swam before breakfast and then another two or three times a day, and watched the last hour of the Tour de France every afternoon. I got through quite a few bottles of Pelforth blonde. My regular 5-mile morning run to Le Garn and around the forests and vineyards was only attempted once in the searing heat and only the prospect of a swim at the end kept me going. It was simple unadulterated bliss. No need to watch the Tory leadership handicap stakes or concern ourselves with the shit show that is the UK sliding into recession and depression.

Five days and nights passed quickly as we mingled with other guests from France and Switzerland and I practised my topiary skills on an Olive Tree for the second time. We visited the nearby village of Organs d'Avens that had been transformed during the lockdown, a new boulangerie, the primary school modernised, a new business hub, and a dozen or so new houses all built in the local vernacular with white limestone walls and spacious gardens and an upgraded hotel that had been run by the same family for four generations. We also visited Le Mouton Noir a restaurant deep in the country near Issirac where a young couple has combined local produce with a modern flavour in a simple but elegant new building.

Jean Pierre had retired from running the family estate that surrounds the Mas that has been converted into five suites of rooms for the chambres d' hotes. His land includes vineyards, apricot, peach, cherry, fig and almond orchards, oak forests for truffles, lavender fields and olive groves. He now helps Evelyne run the chambres d' hotes, although happily not the cuisine that she provides with an amazing skill at utilising the local produce. 

We left shortly after midday for the trip to Nimes and arrived in good time for the flight home. More than could be said for the plane that had been held up on the outward flight from Edinburgh airport for 3 hours owing to delays caused by staff shortages. Ryanair made no announcement but did provide a free snack. Every time we land in Edinburgh the trek from the plane to the terminal gets longer and more confusing and the walk from the terminal to the bus stops for the parking gets longer. It would seem that Edinburgh airport is determined to make itself as confusing as Heathrow, the other logistical nightmare operated by Global Infrastructure Partners.

Chassezac Gorge near Les Vans

Courtyard of the Mas

Malataverne after the Lavendar was cropped

My handiwork at Topiary

Dining room for those cool, wet days. None this year.

Young Swallow 3 days after fledging

Barjac, our regular haunt for coffee or lunch

Barjac 

Barjac, the fairground is in town

Le Mouton Noir, Issirac

 

Avignon and the Gard

Palais des Papes, Avignon

When in France we normally head for the Ardeche but our late booking for flights required us to find alternative accommodation for the first week when our usual accommodation was already booked up. We decided on a gite about 15 kilometres from Avignon in the wine-growing area of the Rhone Valley. Leaving Nimes after a morning exploring the town and enjoying a salad lunch was not easy. The satnav on the car constantly calibrated to select the autoroute contrary to my instinct to find quieter routes through the glorious limestone country and perfect old Provencal villages. I switched off the satnav and asked Aileen to navigate me out of the town and to head north to Usez. We meandered along roads that tunnelled through plane trees and were menaced by fast vans on narrow roads with precipitate edges. The landscapes were a melange of vineyards, forests and fruit trees with limestone escarpments providing the third dimension. The afternoon heat had soared to 38°C but it would get a lot hotter as the week progressed. 

The gite in St Laurent des Arbres was in a village that boasted two boulangeries, two restaurants and a fortified church with a watchtower. It is situated amidst some attractive pine forests and vineyards. We had brought some food so settled down to enjoy the pool, the balmy evening and the chance to recharge our optimism after suffering Boris Johnson's largely successful attempt to convert the UK into a rogue state. 

We indulged ourselves with some lazy days in the sun, reading, swimming, enjoying our daily bread, eating melons, apricots, peaches, salads, and cheeses and drinking litres of cold water as the mercury danced into the forties. We visited the village of Chateauneuf du Pape just across the Rhone. After lunch in the village, a climb to the castle gave a splendid view of Mont Ventoux. A well-presented tour of the wine museum explained the importance of soils, climate and the balancing of grape varieties. We went to Uzes on market day, and amidst the curios and antiques we heard a superb rendering of Summertime, but parking wasn't easy. On the hottest day, Bastille Day, a walk in the nearby pine forest was our morning exercise and after the heat began to subside we climbed to the Castello in the nearby village of Saint Victor da Cost which gave amazing views across the Gard and generated an appetite for an evening meal in the village square. 

It was the Festival d' Avignon Festival in July, an Arts festival that began in 1947, the same year as Edinburgh's festival. Avignon is a tourist hotspot at any time of the year but becomes even more so during the festival. There is a very efficient park and ride from a large free car park on an island in the river Rhone into the walled city. We arrived sufficiently early to enjoy time walking around the pedestrianised city and listening to some fine street musicians. We revisited the wonderful Palace des Papes which is a well-curated experience made even more so by a quite remarkable exhibition by the photographer Sebastiao Salgado that captures the landscapes and indigenous people of Amazonia. It worked as both a photographic experience and as irresistible evidence of the need for action to tackle climate change. We had some lunch and continued to soak up the atmosphere of street theatre, there were dozens of shows to see including a French take on Brexit. The street performers seemed more laid back and less aggressive than those that take over Edinburgh during its festival. There was a sense that the festival is better integrated into the community than occurs in Edinburgh.  

We visited the quirky Chateau de Bosc, a wine estate near Pont du Gard that hosts a museum displaying an extensive collection of bikes, motorbikes and toys as well as having two retired fighter planes adorning the vineyard. The museums were a revelation with a Vincent Black Lightening motorbike that conjured up a favourite track by Richard Thompson. Even alongside some remarkable motorbikes from Germany, France, Italy and the United States, the Vincent looked to be the adonis of motorbikes.

The were numerous wooden bikes from the early nineteenth century and steel bikes from the early twentieth century on display but the star exhibit was Jaques Anquetil's bike from the 1963 Tour de France. I had been captivated by this race as a teenager when Anquetil began to go head to head with his great rival Raymond Poulidor in the days when French riders dominated Le Tour. I was desperately keen to have a racing bike with the components on Anquetil's bike: ten Campagnolo gears, Mafac brakes, Mavic wheels, Cinelli handlebars and Christoph pedal clips. They were fitted on racing bikes by Mercian, Holdsworth, Claud Butler and Bob Jackson that were readily available in the UK and common in the school bike shed. In those days the top cyclists were cycling on bikes that could be bought in local bike shops. Levelling up was innate in those halcyon days not a slogan in search of a solution.

We left the gite on a Saturday, thanking our host Charles, who had a great back story. He had been brought up in the Congo in Africa and after moving to France developed a successful textile company that exported to all parts of Europe and Africa. The arrival and domination of imports from India and China at the time of the banking crisis persuaded him to sell his business before it went bankrupt and move to the Gard where he ran a gite along with some rooms and enjoyed a less stressful life with a far smaller carbon footprint. 

St Laurent des Arbres watch tower

Street in Chateauneuf du Pape

Mont Ventoux from Chateauneuf du Pape

Remains of the Castle at Chateauneuf du Pape

Hats off to Avignon Festival

Palais des Papes theatre

Festival d'Avignon

Salgado Amazonia exhibition - people

Salgado Amazonia exhibition - mountains

Salgado Amazonia exhibition - trees

Morning walk in the forest

View from Castello at Saint Victor da Cost

Castello above Saint Victor da Cost

Cicada hitching a lift on Aileen's hat

Mig 17 fighter in Chateau de Bosc outoor museum

Vineyard at Chateau de Bosc

Jaques Anquetil's bike from winning the 1963 Tour de France

Triumph in Avignon

The Gite in St Laurent des Arbres

Nimes

Maison Carree

After 3 years largely confined at home, we managed to pluck up the courage to escape the UK for a visit to France. We were inspired by the availability of flights introduced from Edinburgh to Nimes. Nimes is only an hour and a half away from our regular escape in the Ardeche. A beautiful Roman town that is twinned with the town where I lived from birth until starting my career. My school had exchange visits to Nimes every summer but I never managed to take part as we didn’t have the space or the money to engage in the exchange. 

The nearest I came to meeting my peers from Nimes was helping my father when he was asked to DJ at a dance for the Nimes teenagers. It was the summer of 1964 and my father’s DJ days were no longer in tune with the mood of the times. His call of "take your partners for a waltz or whatever dance" was no way to address our generation. His attempt to appeal to the French with Francois Hardy's hit 'Tous Les Garcon's et Tous Les Filles' had gone down like a 'ballon de plomb.'  I was familiar with his DJ set-up and had brought along some of my recently acquired 45 singles and a couple of albums. Normally I was only there to wire up the equipment and demonstrate the hula hoop or the twist and an excuse for a late night. 

Dad's attempts to interest the teenagers were disastrous so he instructed me to see if I could get them on the dance floor by playing my records. I started by playing the Rolling Stones' hit, It's All Over Now, and it certainly was curtains for DJ Dad. The floor was immediately full of 40 or so jiving teenage girls. After playing other hits of the summer including Bama Lama Bama Loo by Little Richard, Rosalyn by Pretty Things, the Animals hit House of the Rising Sun, and Doo Wah Diddy by Manfred Mann, I was besieged by requests to join the girls on the dance floor. I only wished that I had paid more attention in French lessons and carried on with my paper round so I could have afforded the 36-hour bus, boat and train trip back to Nimes with them. Still, I reckoned that if my 'O' level results, due the next week were not great, I could try and get a job as a DJ on the pirate Radio Caroline ship moored in the Irish sea off the Isle of Man.

Shoot forward fifty-odd years and the journey to Nimes was surprisingly straightforward, a two-hour flight with no long queues at Edinburgh airport. although the cost of airport parking had set a new record for hyperinflation and the cost of coffee at the airport made you want to gargle. The flight was on time and Ryanair did the basics well, even the cramped hard seats seemed comfortable and they were cheaper than a train journey to Inverness although the cost of taking luggage more than doubled the price. Nimes has a small, new airport so our exit and roll through customs were extra speedy. Within minutes we had a car, which is where the trouble began.  

We had not been given a parking ticket to leave the car park so had to return to the airport building to retrieve one and then the satnav directed us to the autoroute for the short 7-kilometre drive to our Airbnb in the city centre. It added distance, time as well as a cost but there was no escape from having to enter the herd of speeding vehicles heading for le weekend. A few minutes later we were stuck in a queue playing a horn symphony in protest at a driver that could not find how to pay at the exit barrier.  

As we entered the old city, the final straw was discovering that both indicators were flashing. In a strange car with left-hand drive, busy traffic and shouts from my agitated passenger to turn the indicators off, I tried every switch from indicators to lights to windscreen wipers and washers, all to no avail. I decided that it was probably safer to continue with both indicators going and try to find our Airbnb than to find a parking place on the narrow streets The owner was stationed on the street to meet us and guide us into a tight underground garage. We discovered after parking that Aileen had inadvertently switched the hazard warning lights on. We declared a mutual truce on our pent-up angst.

By 8pm we were promenading to the city centre on a balmy summer evening. The clean pedestrianised streets with limestone flagged pavements, the Arena of Nimes, a Roman Amphitheatres that serves as a venue for many musical events and a centre alive with outdoor cafes and restaurants all helped revive our post-Covid spirits. Love was in the air. The beer was cold and the steak hache and frites were a real treat after three years of vegetarian food.  The place was buzzing and the locals seemed relaxed and happy, I even wondered if I had danced with any of them on the twinning visit back in 1964. Surprisingly the prices in euros seemed no different than our last visit here in 2018. However, we must remember that the pound has plunged in value from 1.40 euros to 1.11 euros since Brexit.

We arranged with our Airbnb host to leave the car in the underground parking until the next afternoon so we could have a few hours enjoying the city. We were in the centre by 9:00am and after croissants and coffee in a cafe, we began to explore the city. The mainly independent shops in the centre were busy as was the market and there seemed to be no vacant shops unlike in most British towns. After an enjoyable perusal of the centre, we walked up to the Jardins-de-la-Fontaine, the first public gardens in France and climbed to the high point of the town before returning to the centre for a fine salad lunch by the Maison Carree, a Roman Temple. The heat was 37°C as we left Nimes for our gite which was only an hour away but we took the scenic route via Usez squeezing between the plane trees and oncoming traffic on the narrow rural roads of the Gard. We picked up some drinks and food at Gaujac to make a meal when we arrived at our gite. It was good to be back in Europe, it feels like home.

Arena of Nimes

Canals leading to the Jardins de  la Fontaine

Jardins de la Fontaine

Nimes Centre

Spend more and get less, the Boris legacy

The belated departure of Boris Johnson is a moment the vast majority of UK citizens will celebrate with glee. A man who conned the North whilst directing resources to the South,. A man whose moral compass was never calibrated to magnetic North. He showed us the jeopardy of electing junk politicians.

He was also the PM from 2019 to 2022 when we suffered the greatest decline in the quality of life in my lifetime. I have just examined how my spending patterns changed in the Johnson years. A hard Brexit, a slow and flawed Covid response and now the cost of living crisis resulting from a failure to control energy prices have dramatically altered our patterns of living. The differences are remarkable but even with a secure company pension and no mortgage, there have had to be been significant reductions in spending.

On food, we became vegetarians just before Covid struck and whilst initially saving a great deal of expenditure in recent months the price of fruit, vegetables and dairy produce has increased rapidly. We have become more careful about what we buy, visiting Aldi and seeking out special offers on products we would usually buy without a second thought. 

Our energy costs in a new house are comparatively low: triple glazing, solar panels, air source heating, low energy lighting and newish appliances have all made a huge difference. Nevertheless, total energy costs have already risen from £1200pa to £2100pa with a further £600 likely next month

The cost of motoring has rocketed. My annual mileage in the car has dropped by 23% but the total fuel cost has risen by 37%, meaning I am spending about £300 more per annum to do a far smaller mileage. This has positive benefits for the planet and not just because of fuel savings. I would normally replace a car every four or five years but the carbon footprint of manufacturing a new car is huge. The increase in car prices as the value of the pound has plummeted in the last 18 months has made the purchase of a new car an exercise in burning money, even more so when buying an electric car. The depreciation on an average car is now about £5000 per annum, and the depreciation on my 9-year-old car is about £1000 a year. I have also stopped using the car dealership, where servicing prices were reaching stratospheric levels and now use the local garage saving about 50% of the cost of repairs and servicing. 

Buying an electric car is a strong intention but with a 9-month waiting list, a 15% premium over an equivalent petrol car and the cost of recharging now almost as much as buying fuel, there is little justification or incentive for replacing the car. I would need to keep it for about 15 years to break even on my carbon footprint when the impact of manufacturing as well as the fuel is taken into account. Will I still be here or still driving by then?

We used to eat out an average of once a week at lunchtime and once a fortnight in the evening. Prices have gone up at our local cafe by 18% at lunchtime and the chef has left so the menu is more restricted. We have been only twice so far this year. Eating out in the evening seems to be far more expensive and we have had some pretty awful meals since the lockdown ended. We have only eaten out in the evening on five occasions in the first 30 weeks of this year and only twice has it been a good experience. Beer has gone up hugely from £3.30 to about £4.50 a pint and as a result, I have only had half a dozen pints all year, usually with a meal. I can only recall going for a drink in a pub on one occasion. 

We used to go out to events more regularly, to the cinema about half a dozen times a year and to music or play about six or seven times a year. So far this year, I have been once to the cinema, once to a play and to one music/dance event.

We used to go to see our daughters in London 6 or 7 times a year. Since Covid we have been once in 33 months, meaning less flying and far fewer train trips. We have seen far less of our brothers and sisters and close friends. Even local train and bus trips have stalled, I have made just 2 train trips each to Edinburgh and Glasgow since the start of Covid and only two bus trips to catch a train.

We would go on a holiday abroad maybe twice a year, one a city break in Europe and one a trip to France or occasionally to Italy or Greece. We have had only one holiday abroad in the last three years.  The price was more expensive mainly because of the declining buying power of the pound against the Euro and the cost of hiring a car abroad. Travel insurance has escalated by over 100% but that is partly age-related, once you are over 70, you are penalised heavily for having the audacity to travel.

The cost of getting a tradesman to the house for electrical, plumbing or other work has spiralled way beyond the inflation rate. It cost £120 to fix a burglar alarm that had gone off and needed to be reset, It took about twenty minutes. I now try to do our own repairs with the help of YouTube.

Apart from socks and shorts, I have bought no new clothes. My recreational interests have been running and hill walking. The lockdown stopped me from running for 3 months and then I got injured when we were let out and I lost another 4 months. My mileage is now a quarter of what I was running pre-lockdown. I would have bought new shoes once or twice a year. They have almost doubled in price, and I now use my cache of old shoes that were stashed in a cupboard. I bought a new rucksack the other day because it was on a half-price offer at a price similar to what it was at a full price three years ago. All other outdoor equipment has rocketed in price so again I simply reproof and repair to extend the life of the gear.

As a result of inflation and the need to live within a budget, I am spending about the same as before. We just get far fewer services or outings for our money. And this is before the significant rise in energy costs. The consequence for the economy is that I am far less likely to spend on hospitality, tradesmen, rail and air travel or household goods than before. These businesses are under great pressure with the inflation in food and energy prices, and a shortage of workers given that many have retired, whilst many workers from Europe have returned home. Meanwhile, the financial sector is up to its old tricks, not passing on interest rate hikes to savers, increasing fixed charges, and promoting lending at rates that give them ever higher profit margins. 

It is a vicious circle with devastating consequences for businesses and a loss of living standards for the majority of households. It is no consolation to hear that other developed economies are going through the same issues, they are at least recovering, and the UK is still performing less well than before we left the EU and screwed up our Covid response. Even the cost of living has gone up faster in the UK than in most other developed countries. I would be lying if I said that all of this is down to Boris but most of it is and that's the nemesis for Boris Johnson.

7 July 2022: Johnson Chequered

The Beginning

The End

Well, that's it then, the worst Prime Minister in UK History has eventually been vanquished by his cabinet colleagues proving that duplicity is still an underlying value of the Tory Party.

Langdale 2022

Langdale Pikes from Tarn Howes

The annual return to Langdale was different, the weather was poor, admittedly this is not unusual, but the Lake District "the UK's favourite holiday destination" is no longer functioning very well as the effects of Covid and Brexit become apparent.

For the first time in 36 visits to the Langdale Lodge, I managed no swims, no sessions in the gym or even a run. The pool and gym were only open between 10am and 6pm owing to the failure to attract staff. This meant that visits to the leisure facilities would require us to forego walks and visiting places during the day and that defeats the purpose of visiting the Lakes. The same shortages of staff applied to pubs, restaurants and shops. The nearby cafe at Skelwith Bridge, always a favourite, had insufficient staff to provide proper service or many of their excellent vegetarian dishes. The limited range of food was sold in paper bags and, whilst it could be eaten on the premises, the ambience was desultory.

The outlet stores for outdoor equipment in Grasmere and Ambleside had disappeared or been absorbed into mainstream stores. Outdoor equipment prices had rocketed by 30 - 40%. Beer in the Britannia Inn, our local, was £4.60 for a pint compared to £3.40 pre-Covid. The cost of the service charge for the lodge had gone up £160 a week since 2019 despite equipment in the lodge getting worse and having paid a substantial service and reparation charge in 2020 when we were unable to use the lodge for our week because of the estate did not open in the first weeks after lockdown ceased.

Many shops have disappeared from the towns and villages: the bookshop in Hawkshead, bakeries in Ambleside and public conveniences are now costing 50p. The post office in Ambleside was unable to open because of staff shortages. It is not just the effect of Brexit, the Lakes always depended on a good number of young Europeans to run services, but also because of the lack of affordable housing. In Langdale, 85% of the houses are now second homes or holiday lets. Locals have been squeezed out of their communities by the government's dystopian housing policies that have favoured cheap loans and private letting over addressing local needs.

There is a tragic unravelling of places by the unthinking decisions perpetrated by a government that seems totally blind to the damage caused by letting the markets rip. The importance of nurturing communities that are in touch with the needs of localities has been ignored by the mantra of 'levelling up' that lies at the heart of government doublethink. 

The Lake District National Park seems keener to allow madcap tourist schemes such as rollercoaster theme park in Little Langdale and off-roading on ancient tracks by 4x4 vehicles despite receiving 384,000 objections mainly from walkers, cyclists and horse riders who use these greenways. The very essence of National Parks was to give people access to the natural environment utilising the excellent network of paths and tracks. Local businesses would thrive on the back of visitors enjoying access by foot, bike and horse to escape the noise, pollution and intrusion of vehicles that dominate life elsewhere. It would seem that the prospect of outside investment in dubious populist leisure activities trumps localism within the National Park. Yet the National Park should be at the forefront in encouraging more sustainable developments that safeguard our outstanding landscapes and local communities.

On a rain-splattered week, we only managed a few walks at Eskdale, Langdale and Tarn Howes on the better afternoons. On other days we visited the Beatrix Potter exhibition, Keswick, Bassenthwaite, Hawkshead, Grasmere and Ambleside. Fellini's restaurant in Ambleside was the highlight of the week along with the splendid walk from Eskdale to Whin Rigg and Illgill Head. It was not the best year at Langdale and the hope is that the drift towards a tourist driven populism in the Lakes will be thwarted by greener, community led voices.

Beatrix Potter

Tommy Brock

Mrs Tiggy-Winkle

Hawkshead gentrification of street name

Hawkshead as was

Hawkshead School Wordsworth

Tarn Howes on a dry afternoon