A Somerset Lad

There was a time when High Ham had its own rector. Then it was absorbed into Langport and High Ham had a vicar under the rector in Langport. Then there was no longer a vicar in High Ham. And now even Langport has no priest. The vicarage being let, the living is suspended.

The neighbouring benefice of Long Sutton, Pitney, Muchelney and Drayon is also suspended.

The Church of England has brought iself to this situation.  Distant, arrogant, high-handed, pompous, self-obsessed – the list of apposite descriptions is long. A failure during the Covid pandemic, lacking leadership, having little understanding of rural communities, the decline has been long an inexorable.

In Somerset, the irrelevance began a century ago. In his book In God We Doubt: Confessions of a Failed Atheist broadcaster John Humphrys remembers his father as not being very favourably disposed towards clergy,

‘That can probably be traced to an experience he had as a young man when he was staying with his aunt at her little cottage in a Somerset village not long after the First WorId War had ended. They were about to sit down for Sunday lunch when the door burst open and the vicar strode in. Without so much as a by-your­leave, a tap on the door or even ‘Good morning’, he demanded to know why my great-aunt had not been at the morning service. She did a little bob – not quite a curtsy, but not far from it – and stammered some sort of apology. She tried to explain that she seldom had visitors and she’d been busy preparing lunch for her nephew whom she hadn’t seen for a year and who had come from a long way away (the other side of the Severn estuary) but she’d make sure to turn up for evensong. He was having none of it. He barked at her, ‘See that you do! Don’t let it happen again!’ and marched out without another word. He did not even acknowledge the presence of her guest.

My father was outraged and remembered that en­counter in minute detail until his dying day. How dare the vicar treat his aunt with such disdain – exactly like a lord of the manor dealing with a serf! But those were the days of deference, especially in a rural backwater like Wellow in Somerset, when the working class knew its place and would never have dared to stand up to the authority of the vicar’.

As someone who grew up in a working-class family in another rural backwater of Somerset, the story told by John Humphrys’  is reassuring, this was how working-class people experienced the church. There is a certain schadenfreude in watching the disintegration of the institution. Perhaps something Christian will emerge from the ruins.

A good-intentioned number of newcomers to the village decided ‘affordable housing’ was necessary. They seemed not well-versed in market economics which awards an immediate premium to those who acquire assets at below market prices.

Having contemplated ‘affordable housing,’ they then switched to the idea of providing ‘social housing’, rental properties at below the prevailing market rates. Of course, such provision provides the recipients a benefit that would not accrue to those not fortunate enough to be allocated a house.

The well-intentioned group would not accept the arguments that there were flaws in their reasoning, particularly that the cost of finance, the cost of providing services to the sites, and the cost of building materials, would require a level of rent that would make the houses little cheaper than market rates.

There was a lecturer during my undergraduate years at the LSE who would reiterate to students, ‘you cannot buck the market.’ Anyone who might have disagreed with the assertion would have needed only to look at everyday situations to have understood the point. Interventions in markets can sometimes have consequences that were not intended.

Thus it is that the planning application for six units of social housing that would forever destroy the view of the windmill as it appears in the photograph at the top of this page has brought unexpected dividends for local landowners.

A piece of land a little closer to the windmill, on the opposite side of the road was put up for sale. A family member inquired about the potential cost of the two acres of grazing. ‘£8,000-£10,000 per acre?’ he asked.

An uncle, a farmer all his life, thought about it and was umabiguous in his response. ‘It could go for £100,000.’ he said.

The figure seemed absurd. Who would pay such a price?

It transpired that my uncle’s estimate was £4,000 out – the two acres sold for £96,000.

The prospect of the council permitting a development in an undeveloped area has brought speculation that once one application has been granted, others cannot be refused. The intention of providing housing at a lower price has brought a sharp increase in the price of land.

A schoolboy economist would tell you that in a market economy, prices will always be determined by supply and demand. If prices are to be reduced, supply must be increased or demand must be reduced. The demand for housing will not reduce, the only way to make it affordable is for a wide scale building programme to be undertaken by local authorities. Local interventions can have the effect of making things worse.