EPILOGUE
As I trundle into Morton, a large village on the road between Lincoln and Peterborough, I note how much it has grown over the decades. The architecture of the villages shifts dramatically from the inner village to the more modern constructions built since the post-Great War Churchillian Reforms. I've seen photographs of the village from before the Agricultural Mutualisation, and the village's population must have increased five fold at least since the Great War.
Today is the village fete, and as I drive in, the High Street has been closed to traffic. I park behind the King's Head, the venerable old pub that has glared across as their main rival the Nelson for the best part of a century. The whole of the High Street is a kaleidoscope of stalls, some are professional set-ups by local co-operatives and charities, some are by prominent village societies, many more are set up local individuals and families. There are various attractions like waltzers, dodgems, and behind someone's house an activity where you through balls at plates to smash them. Vintage tractors are clustered on the village green, a relatively central location, and their owners sit in the sun by the church hall where the WI are busy purveying cake and tea to all and sundry. It is for these wrinkled, sundried men that I make a beeline for, but I have a leisurely stroll past the stalls, peering at battered DVDs, worn annuals and broken action figures on my way.
Worming my way past a display by the Lincolnshire Rotational Farmers' Co-Operative, I cross the road to the church hall. Retrieving a slice of Victoria sponge cake (unbesmirched by buttercream, obviously) and a cup of strong tea, I make my way outside. My interviewee waves at me, indicating an empty seat opposite him. Frank Creasey is a Morton native, and his grandfather lived here before the Churchillian reforms. But it isn't the past I want to talk about. How have the co-operatives and unions changed the way villages operate?
'Well, first of all, the population of the countryside is less isolated than it once was. In my grandfather and great-grandfather's day, there were large towns, small towns and little villages all acting as a supply chain, with a clear hierarchy. When Lloyd-George turned the order on its head, he changed the hierarchy completely. Nowadays, the distinction between town and village is fairly narrow. Morton is only a little smaller than Bourne, the nearest town. The growth of the villages has been mirrored by a contraction in the size of the large towns, probably caused by the Elysian Fields as many Great War veterans of urban origin became smallholders. The social order is also much more egalitarian. Back in the old days, villages such as these were pretty much run by the local grandees along with the church. The mass slaughter of the Great War saw many of the great estates crippled by death duties and the Elysian Fields saw the estates chewed up as they were parcelled up for newcomers. My wife's parents were descended from Elysian smallholders in fact'.
But the world, economically and technologically, has changed considerably since the days of Churchill and Lloyd-George. Back at the start of the 20th Century with a less mechanised farming industry, and a more labour intensive industry in general, it was easy enough for the new generations of small holders to build farms for themselves, employing artisans, labourers and handy-men. Nowadays, in an age of combine harvesters, expensive tractors, and intensive mechanised agriculture how has the rural population of Britain adapted?
'Well, there has been a great deal of change. When I was growing up, in villages like these, nearly everyone was involved with one of the farms or in the co-operative at a parish level. Nowadays, less people are directly connected to the land, but the interconnectedness of the NFU, the Ministry of Food, and the RLRC has created a unique situation. As the farming industry has become more sophisticated so more people are involved in administration, but even so that doesn't take up too much. Instead, some of the larger towns in the rural areas, like Bourne for instance employ a lot of people in food processing and manufacturing as well as a massive resurgence in the British textiles industry. As for the villages themselves, the co-operatives have increasingly taken up the slack of running the farms and many people descended from labourers now work in local shops and services which are part-owned and supported by the co-operatives. The economy here is deeply interconnected and organic, unlike the situation you'll find in the big metropoli'.
Thats not to say unemployment hasn't been an issue at various points, and the larger county towns have become more like the big manufacturing cities as the economy has altered. The market reforms of Liberal governments in the 70s, notably the lifting of agricultural tariffs has harmed domestic agricultural industry, and forced the co-operatives to adapt.
'Of course, there is a kind of cyclical migration from country to city and back again. Many of our young people want more than is offered in the fields, and move to the cities to seek the high life. Many do, others end up in the factories or the mega-shops. And then there are the many unemployed and poor of the cities who sign up for seasonal work as pickers in the fields and become permanent farmhands. Its all part of how the nation as a whole works. We in the country may not always see eye to eye with our urban kin, but we all want the same thing in the end'.
Frank has been a life-long Country voter, but there are rumblings of change on the horizon. Since much of the countryside came under the control of the labourer rather than the estate manager, agriculture has become more industrialised and intensive. People in the countryside have never been more prosperous. But that has come at a cost to the environment. Not helped by market reforms and increased collectivisation which has seen hedgerows torn up as property divisions have dissolved as smallholders sold their land to the co-operative. The Ecology Party has arisen as an anti-establishment movement, both to the destructive impact of industrial agriculture, and to the damage the great cities cause. What does Frank make of them?
'The Ecologists have lots of valid concerns. It certainly seems that some of the higher-up managers in the NFU and the co-operatives have forgotten the importance of the land. Indeed, many Ecologists aren't the angry beat poets that some people make them out to be. Some of them are old Country members, angry at the impersonal turn that the co-operative movement has taken in recent years. Many Ecologists want to bring back the tariff walls and use the infrastructure of Lloyd-George, MacDonald, Churchill and Mosley to build a proper socialist Morrisian utopia. Personally, I don't believe we can turn the clock back and I don't believe there is any such thing as a utopia. Bu we must become more connected to the land and learn to care for it properly. If we do that, our lives on the land may be simpler and easier than we realise. But we can't do that by just burning the system to the ground'.
By this point, I've drained by tea and I'm scraping the crumbs off my plate. The sun has turned in, and Frank makes a motion that suggests this interview is over. I say my farewells and cross the road to the church. Around the back is a door which leads up to the bell tower. For the purposes of the fete, guided tours of the tower by the local bell-ringers are taking place, but its late enough in the day that most of the ringers are sitting in fold-out chairs eating soggy sandwiches and knocking back stale tea. As I approach, an elderly man stands up to greet me. His arms and legs are heavily muscled and toned, but his torso speaks of several decades of leisure and long afternoons in the pub as opposed to heaving bales or chasing pigs around a yard. His face is lined, but by laughter not age. His hair has long since fled but his bushy eyebrows are flecked with silver amongst the black.
'It's good to see you, son'.
'It's good to be home' I say as I shake hands with my father.
As I trundle into Morton, a large village on the road between Lincoln and Peterborough, I note how much it has grown over the decades. The architecture of the villages shifts dramatically from the inner village to the more modern constructions built since the post-Great War Churchillian Reforms. I've seen photographs of the village from before the Agricultural Mutualisation, and the village's population must have increased five fold at least since the Great War.
Today is the village fete, and as I drive in, the High Street has been closed to traffic. I park behind the King's Head, the venerable old pub that has glared across as their main rival the Nelson for the best part of a century. The whole of the High Street is a kaleidoscope of stalls, some are professional set-ups by local co-operatives and charities, some are by prominent village societies, many more are set up local individuals and families. There are various attractions like waltzers, dodgems, and behind someone's house an activity where you through balls at plates to smash them. Vintage tractors are clustered on the village green, a relatively central location, and their owners sit in the sun by the church hall where the WI are busy purveying cake and tea to all and sundry. It is for these wrinkled, sundried men that I make a beeline for, but I have a leisurely stroll past the stalls, peering at battered DVDs, worn annuals and broken action figures on my way.
Worming my way past a display by the Lincolnshire Rotational Farmers' Co-Operative, I cross the road to the church hall. Retrieving a slice of Victoria sponge cake (unbesmirched by buttercream, obviously) and a cup of strong tea, I make my way outside. My interviewee waves at me, indicating an empty seat opposite him. Frank Creasey is a Morton native, and his grandfather lived here before the Churchillian reforms. But it isn't the past I want to talk about. How have the co-operatives and unions changed the way villages operate?
'Well, first of all, the population of the countryside is less isolated than it once was. In my grandfather and great-grandfather's day, there were large towns, small towns and little villages all acting as a supply chain, with a clear hierarchy. When Lloyd-George turned the order on its head, he changed the hierarchy completely. Nowadays, the distinction between town and village is fairly narrow. Morton is only a little smaller than Bourne, the nearest town. The growth of the villages has been mirrored by a contraction in the size of the large towns, probably caused by the Elysian Fields as many Great War veterans of urban origin became smallholders. The social order is also much more egalitarian. Back in the old days, villages such as these were pretty much run by the local grandees along with the church. The mass slaughter of the Great War saw many of the great estates crippled by death duties and the Elysian Fields saw the estates chewed up as they were parcelled up for newcomers. My wife's parents were descended from Elysian smallholders in fact'.
But the world, economically and technologically, has changed considerably since the days of Churchill and Lloyd-George. Back at the start of the 20th Century with a less mechanised farming industry, and a more labour intensive industry in general, it was easy enough for the new generations of small holders to build farms for themselves, employing artisans, labourers and handy-men. Nowadays, in an age of combine harvesters, expensive tractors, and intensive mechanised agriculture how has the rural population of Britain adapted?
'Well, there has been a great deal of change. When I was growing up, in villages like these, nearly everyone was involved with one of the farms or in the co-operative at a parish level. Nowadays, less people are directly connected to the land, but the interconnectedness of the NFU, the Ministry of Food, and the RLRC has created a unique situation. As the farming industry has become more sophisticated so more people are involved in administration, but even so that doesn't take up too much. Instead, some of the larger towns in the rural areas, like Bourne for instance employ a lot of people in food processing and manufacturing as well as a massive resurgence in the British textiles industry. As for the villages themselves, the co-operatives have increasingly taken up the slack of running the farms and many people descended from labourers now work in local shops and services which are part-owned and supported by the co-operatives. The economy here is deeply interconnected and organic, unlike the situation you'll find in the big metropoli'.
Thats not to say unemployment hasn't been an issue at various points, and the larger county towns have become more like the big manufacturing cities as the economy has altered. The market reforms of Liberal governments in the 70s, notably the lifting of agricultural tariffs has harmed domestic agricultural industry, and forced the co-operatives to adapt.
'Of course, there is a kind of cyclical migration from country to city and back again. Many of our young people want more than is offered in the fields, and move to the cities to seek the high life. Many do, others end up in the factories or the mega-shops. And then there are the many unemployed and poor of the cities who sign up for seasonal work as pickers in the fields and become permanent farmhands. Its all part of how the nation as a whole works. We in the country may not always see eye to eye with our urban kin, but we all want the same thing in the end'.
Frank has been a life-long Country voter, but there are rumblings of change on the horizon. Since much of the countryside came under the control of the labourer rather than the estate manager, agriculture has become more industrialised and intensive. People in the countryside have never been more prosperous. But that has come at a cost to the environment. Not helped by market reforms and increased collectivisation which has seen hedgerows torn up as property divisions have dissolved as smallholders sold their land to the co-operative. The Ecology Party has arisen as an anti-establishment movement, both to the destructive impact of industrial agriculture, and to the damage the great cities cause. What does Frank make of them?
'The Ecologists have lots of valid concerns. It certainly seems that some of the higher-up managers in the NFU and the co-operatives have forgotten the importance of the land. Indeed, many Ecologists aren't the angry beat poets that some people make them out to be. Some of them are old Country members, angry at the impersonal turn that the co-operative movement has taken in recent years. Many Ecologists want to bring back the tariff walls and use the infrastructure of Lloyd-George, MacDonald, Churchill and Mosley to build a proper socialist Morrisian utopia. Personally, I don't believe we can turn the clock back and I don't believe there is any such thing as a utopia. Bu we must become more connected to the land and learn to care for it properly. If we do that, our lives on the land may be simpler and easier than we realise. But we can't do that by just burning the system to the ground'.
By this point, I've drained by tea and I'm scraping the crumbs off my plate. The sun has turned in, and Frank makes a motion that suggests this interview is over. I say my farewells and cross the road to the church. Around the back is a door which leads up to the bell tower. For the purposes of the fete, guided tours of the tower by the local bell-ringers are taking place, but its late enough in the day that most of the ringers are sitting in fold-out chairs eating soggy sandwiches and knocking back stale tea. As I approach, an elderly man stands up to greet me. His arms and legs are heavily muscled and toned, but his torso speaks of several decades of leisure and long afternoons in the pub as opposed to heaving bales or chasing pigs around a yard. His face is lined, but by laughter not age. His hair has long since fled but his bushy eyebrows are flecked with silver amongst the black.
'It's good to see you, son'.
'It's good to be home' I say as I shake hands with my father.
