Victoria Sturgess from Black Pug Books says birthdays in literature reveal love, vanity and the unsettling truths that lurk beneath the celebration
Continuing the personal connection for this edition, my younger daughter has a birthday mid-March – so birthdays it is. Probably two books immediately spring to mind for most: Ted Hughes’ Birthday Letters and Harold Pinter’s The Birthday Party, though the latter is admittedly a play. Ostensibly about a little party given for a guest in a rundown boarding house, the arrival of two strangers turns it into a nightmare. In usual Pinter fashion, nothing is as it seems.
It is a vehicle for his exploration of identity, time, place and political symbolism. Pinter, reflecting on a line in the play ‘Don’t let them tell you what to do,’ said, “I’ve lived that line all my damned life.” The second book can initially seem equally bleak. Although it captures Hughes’ guilt and sorrow about his estranged wife Sylvia Plath’s suicide, there is deep love and admiration too. The collection consists of 88 poems about his life with her – the first public acknowledgement of their highly complex relationship. Considered possibly his finest work, it’s an award-winning legacy to both. Now a complete spinaround in mood and recognition. Although the author, Oscar Wilde, could hardly be more famous, The Birthday of the Infanta is a little-known gem from his collection A House of Pomegranates. The story revolves around the 12th birthday of the Infanta, only child of the King of Spain, and a dwarf dancer who becomes entranced by her. As with the previous titles, the ‘story’ is a means of exploring hidden themes – in this case, vanity and age, two of Wilde’s eternal obsessions. Lyrical and poignant, it’s a timeless classic. Beryl Bainbridge remains underrated. In her retelling of Scott’s Antarctic expedition, The Birthday Boys (1991), she was blurring fact and fiction long before it became fashionable. Five first-person narratives by the crew give widely differing perspectives of the ill-fated expedition, and it’s up to the reader to decide the extent of the ‘truth’ – a hugely intriguing exercise which, for me, changes on every reading. And to end, an amazingly prescient tale – although written nearly 20 years ago, The Birthday Present by Barbara Vine (Ruth Rendall’s psychological alter ego) could have been written yesterday. Ivor is a handsome rising star MP who by chance meets a beautiful married woman. They become obsessed with sexual role-playing, which inspires Ivor to organise a surprise birthday present involving a kerbside kidnapping. What could possibly go wrong? To quote a review: ‘an exploration of the dark twists of fate that can shake the lives of even those most insulated by privilege, sophistication and power’. Er … sound familiar at all?
There’s a tendency in rural areas to assume online privacy is someone else’s problem – big cities, big companies, big data breaches. Not us. But the reality is, whether it’s streaming a film in the evening, checking bank accounts or running a small business, most of us are now leaving more data online than we probably realise.
Ten years ago, patchy broadband was the main frustration. Now, with better connections, it’s less about whether you can get online, and more about what happens when you do.
This is where VPNs – virtual private networks – start to come into the conversation. The name makes them sound more complicated than they are. In reality, a VPN simply creates a secure, encrypted connection between your device and the wider internet. It makes it much harder for anyone else to see what you’re doing online or to track your activity.
For many people, the first time they come across VPNs isn’t through security concerns at all, but through streaming. Anyone who’s travelled, or even just tried to watch something that isn’t available in the UK, will have run into those frustrating ‘not available in your region’ messages. It’s one of the reasons searches for things like the best vpn for smart tv have become more common. Not because people are suddenly tech experts, but because they’re trying to make everyday services work a bit more smoothly (or watch a Euros match while on holiday in France … *cough*)
But focusing only on streaming slightly misses the point. The more relevant issue, particularly for a Dorset audience, is how exposed everyday internet use can be. Public Wi-Fi in cafés, village halls or even local events is often unsecured. That doesn’t mean it’s unsafe, but it does mean your data can be easier to intercept than most people realise. A VPN adds a layer of protection that sits in the background.
For small businesses – and Dorset has plenty of them – the stakes are a little higher. Sending invoices, accessing accounts, managing customer details or simply working remotely all involve sensitive information. Most people take reasonable precautions, but they don’t necessarily think about the connection itself. A VPN doesn’t replace good practice, but it does strengthen it.
There’s also a generational angle. Younger users are often more comfortable with the technology, but not always more cautious. Older users tend to be the opposite. Most households sit somewhere in the middle – aware that privacy matters, but not entirely sure what to do about it.
VPNs aren’t a perfect solution, though, and they’re not always as straightforward as they’re made out to be. The market is crowded, with big names like NordVPN and ExpressVPN alongside dozens of others, all claiming to be the fastest or the most secure. In reality, there are differences. Some keep logs of user activity despite suggesting otherwise, some are slower than others, and some simply don’t work particularly well on certain devices.
Speed is especially relevant in more rural parts of Dorset, where broadband can still be inconsistent. A poorly optimised VPN can slow things down further, which rather defeats the point if you’re just trying to watch something or join a video call without buffering every few minutes.
There’s also the slightly awkward question of what VPNs are actually used for. While they are perfectly legal in the UK, using them to access content that’s restricted to other regions sits in a bit of a grey area. Most people aren’t thinking about licensing agreements when they just want to watch a programme, but it’s part of the wider picture of how digital services are structured.
What’s more interesting is what the rise of VPN use says about how people now view the internet. There’s a growing awareness that it isn’t quite the open, neutral space it once seemed. There are layers of tracking, data collection and restrictions built into it. Tools like VPNs are, in a sense, a response to that – a way of taking back a bit of control.
For most readers, the question isn’t whether you need a VPN in a strict sense. Plenty of people manage perfectly well without one. It’s more about whether it solves a problem you already have. If you travel, use public Wi-Fi, stream regularly or run any kind of business online, it may well do.
Otherwise, it’s simply one of those things that sits in the background of modern life. Not essential, not urgent, but increasingly part of the landscape – like decent broadband itself. And as with most things online, it’s less about hype and more about understanding what it actually does, and whether that matters to you.
Among the artefacts in the Royal Signals Museum’s new Cold War exhibition is an object that looks entirely ordinary: a British Army beret. Yet its unlikely survival tells a small but remarkable story from a little-known front of the Cold War. The beret belonged to Brigadier (Retd) Ian Cameron-Mowat, who as a young officer served with Brixmis – the British mission responsible for gathering intelligence on Soviet forces in East Germany during the tense decades of the Cold War.
The car is a Trabant 601 – the modest East German car that became a symbol of life behind the Iron Curtain. On the wall to the left is Conrad Schumann’s 1961 leap into West Berlin – captured by Peter Leibing and later known as Leap Into Freedom
Operating in three-man patrols, often travelling cross-country in modified Mercedes vehicles, Brixmis teams observed Soviet military movements across the German Democratic Republic. The work demanded nerve, patience and a willingness to operate under constant scrutiny. Encounters with Soviet patrols were common, and the line between observation and confrontation could be thin. Ian’s fluency in Russian made him well suited to the role. He could switch convincingly between Moscow and Leningrad accents and pass himself off as a Soviet officer if needed. “That golden thread of unconventional work stayed with me throughout my career,” he says. One winter patrol provided a story that has now become part of the museum’s collection. After a freezing night sleeping in the snow near a Soviet installation, Ian realised the following morning that his beret had been left behind. They backtracked 50 kilometres to retrieve it – and found it frozen solid beneath a cow pat in the field where they had slept. Thirty-six years later, that same beret – now cleaned – sits in the Royal Signals Museum.
Dressed to protest
It is one of many personal stories explored in the museum’s new exhibition Cold War – in the Shadow of the Bomb, which looks at the human experiences behind one of the most tense periods in modern history. Alongside the intelligence work in East Germany, the exhibition also gives a voice to those who resisted from home. Carrie Costain and Rosemary Carcaterra were among the women who gathered at Greenham Common to protest against the presence of American cruise missiles on British soil. ‘This is the best thing I can do to protect my family,’ Carrie says she told a police officer who questioned why she was there. ‘Not staying at home making a meal, but protesting against nuclear weapons.’ The women of Greenham faced hostility, arrests and sometimes violence. But they spoke of acting from a sense of moral responsibility, clear about why they were there.
The interactive display allows you to draw your own graffitti, just like that which decorated the Berlin Wall
Together, they show how the Cold War was experienced not only through diplomacy and military strategy, but in the daily lives of soldiers, civilians and protesters. Cold War – in the Shadow of the Bomb is now open at the Royal Signals Museum at Blandford Camp. Adult visitors must bring valid photo identification to access the camp.royalsignalsmuseum.co.uk
A Bryanston School Sixth Form pupil has gained international recognition after winning Young Artist of the Year at the 2026 BTA Art Prize. Alfie G, who has a strong interest in fine art and portraiture, was first shortlisted in the competition before being selected as the overall winner in the youth category.
Sixth Form Pupil Wins Art prize
The award was judged by a panel of established artists, including well-known painter and materials specialist Michael Harding. Alfie described the win as both surprising and encouraging. ‘It was exciting and unexpected,’ he said, adding that he is still waiting to hear full details about the prize and future opportunities linked to it. The BTA Art Prize, run by the organisation Behind The Artist, was launched in 2024 to support emerging creative talent. The initiative highlights artists’ work through interviews, features and competitions, with the aim of making the art world more accessible and inclusive. As part of his award, Alfie will receive a cash prize, professional art materials, and a feature interview on the BTA platform. There is also the possibility that his work may be exhibited as part of the prize. The international competition is open to artists of all ages and backgrounds, welcoming submissions in a wide range of two-dimensional media.
The BV community news section is sponsored by Wessex Internet
There is a row brewing over the future of glyphosate – the very widely used weedkiller more commonly known as Roundup – and there is great concern among many in the UK oilseed growing fraternity that the sky may be about to fall in. United Oilseeds, the farmer-owned co-operative through which we have sold our rapeseed for the last 40 years, reports as follows: In November 2023, the European Commission renewed glyphosate’s approval for another ten years, until December 2033. Reviews by the European Food Safety Authority (EFSA) and the European Chemicals Agency (ECHA) concluded there were no critical safety concerns overall. In short, the EU has renewed approval, but tightened how it can be used. However, the key restriction is a ban on its use as a pre-harvest desiccant, with countries such as Italy banning that particular use in 2016. But what works in Milan or Verona certainly doesn’t translate to Aberdeen or Perth, where crops like oilseed rape face a far shorter, cooler growing season and a much greater need for pre-harvest management. Further to this, United Oilseeds continues: If the UK dynamically aligns with EU plant protection product legislation again, whether through new trade agreements or alignment mechanisms, our growers could face the same restrictions without the same level of subsidy support that EU farmers receive. Since leaving the EU, the UK has followed its own regulatory path. In 2023, the Health and Safety Executive (HSE) and Chemicals Regulation Directorate (CRD) extended the approval of glyphosate until 15 December 2026. This period allows for an independent UK assessment of glyphosate’s safety and environmental impact, using the latest data. The possible outcomes range from Full renewal (potentially up to 15 years) Renewal with restrictions Or, in the worst case, non-renewal of pre-harvest use altogether To this I would add, as a very very worst scenario, the complete banning of glyphosate for any agricultural use at all.
The potential for collateral damage: in-field flower strips, headland margins and hedges risk being wiped out by wind-assisted spray drift from pre-harvest spraying
The 30 per cent rule Currently, it is legal in the UK to apply glyphosate to most agricultural crops within a carefully stipulated period, when the crop is in its ripening phase. This has been legal for very many years. The trouble is that in much of the industry, it has now become routine to treat crops in this way when farmers get impatient: they think they can hasten harvest by using glyphosate on the ripening crop. However, this doesn’t really work if you follow the instructions on the label correctly. The crop grains must be below 30 per cent moisture before application: below this moisture, approval data suggests that translocation of the chemical into the grain cannot occur. The label on a can of agricultural spray is a legal document, explaining how the chemical must be used. It is a requirement in order to both gain approval and for the granting of a licence for sale and use.
Oilseed rape (OSR) is combined when the yellow flowers have faded and the pods are leathery/brown, seeds are dark brown/black
Not in my beer There are two main reasons for use of a pre-harvest glyphosate application. Firstly, for the control of weeds that would make the combining process difficult or impossible, and secondly, to even up a crop that is maturing unevenly – maybe due to pigeon grazing or waterlogging earlier in the season. The first is understandable, but usually indicates some kind of failure in the decision-making process during the growing season. I have more of an issue with the second reason. If you spray any part of a crop containing grains which are above 30 per cent moisture, following the logic of the label moisture rule, there is at least a risk that some chemical could be translocated into the grain. I, for one, do not relish the idea of the presence of any kind of weedkiller in my cooking oil, my bread or even in my beer (made from barley). I cannot support the use of pre-harvest glyphosate, wherever it is grown. It is worth noting that many brewers and maltsters do not allow their growers to use pre-harvest glyphosate on crops destined for their maltings and breweries. The naked grains of barley differ from wheat and rapeseed, covered as they are by chaff or pods. Oats, however, like barley, have no such protection (which of course is no protection at all if we believe that the chemical can be translocated into the grain anyway), should it be applied above 30 per cent moisture, whether by accident or by design. Indeed, it also says on the label that crop destined for use as seed to grow the next season’s crop should not be treated with glyphosate pre-harvest. Does that not at least suggest that its interaction with seed needs to be treated with caution? The pictures show various rape crops from recent years, largely even and weed free. Look closely at the one at the top, opposite, however, and you can see to the left rear of the field a greener area that ripened later than the bulk of the field. We cut the first part of the field, then left the rest to come back 10 days later. No legally applied glyphosate would have evened up this field. If we farmers insist on the need to continue using glyphosate pre-harvest, I believe we can expect it to be banned for all uses sooner rather than later.
It was a cardboard archive box in a London library that stopped Rachael Rowe in her tracks. ‘I pulled out this packet of papers labelled “Rowe”,’ she says. ‘And what I found next just stopped me. It was a letter addressed to Mr Richard Rowe, schoolmaster, dated 1838. I knew exactly who that was. It was my great-great-great grandfather.’
The Rowe family photograph that started it all. Image courtesy of Rachael Rowe
Rachael is now a long time Dorset resident and writer, but at this time was working as a nurse in London. She had gone home for the weekend, and her grandfather joined them for Sunday dinner. ‘He was what we’d now call decluttering,’ she says. ‘He brought a pile of certificates and photos relating to my great grandmother – birth and marriage certificates, a photograph of them working in a fruit and veg shop (above) – and asked what we wanted to do with them. I just thought, “Who are these people?” I wanted to see how far back I could take our family tree.’ So Rachael began tracing her Cornish family history the hard way: it was the 1980s, before Google, before Ancestry.com, before digitised records. Back then, you had to plod through parish registers. Learn to use microfiche. Trawl census books and spend hours at St Catherine’s House. Then came the revelation. One afternoon, bored by card indexes at the Society of Genealogists’, she glanced around the room and noticed the stacks of box files – folders of donated material, arranged alphabetically. ‘I thought, I’ll pull down the ‘R’ box for Rowe and see what happens,’ she says. ‘It is such a common Cornish name, it could have been anybody.’ Inside was a packet of papers labelled simply ‘Rowe’. ‘I opened it, and the first thing I saw was the letter to my four-times-great grandfather,’ she says. ‘I just thought “I know who this person is!”. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. It was like touching time – you’re there, holding something an ancestor has handled. ‘Among the papers in the packet there was a newspaper cutting about an execution,’ she says. ‘My Richard Rowe’s father, also called Richard Rowe, had been hanged.’ Or had he? The archive box held more than one story. What began as family curiosity would become years of research and, 30 years later, Rachael’s new book The History of Forgery, published by Pen & Sword.
Schoolmaster to condemned man The packet of documents had been collated by Arthur Francis Rowe, another ancestor who, in the late 1890s, had himself discovered the story of the doomed Richard Rowe. He had donated his research to the archive in the hopes someone else might continue the story – it was sheer chance that Rachael discovered the papers he had left almost 100 years before. She discovered that Richard Rowe senior had worked as a schoolteacher in Cornwall. He had set up a school for poor boys, he signed off apprentice indentures and he had been press-ganged into the Royal Navy in the 1790s – seized and forced into service at a time when Britain was at war with France. As a schoolteacher, he was used on board to teach the youngest sailors to read and write. But when he fell ill, he was simply left behind in Plymouth as the fleet sailed on. ‘There was no safety net,’ she says. ‘If you couldn’t work, there was no pay, no benefits, nothing.’ Out of work and desperate, he forged a bill of exchange for £26 6s 9d – but he got the name of the Cornish bank wrong. Instead of writing Williams Gould of Truro, Richard wrote ‘Gould William’. And that small mistake led to his arrest. When Rachael finally accessed the restored court records at The National Archives – documents so fragile they had to be specially recovered for her – she uncovered the full tale. ‘At that time, only the male landed gentry could sit on juries. It transpired that his employer sat on the jury at his trial, and a relative of the bank owner he had tried to defraud chaired it. Would you honestly believe that today?’ she says. She also discovered a second charge: bigamy. While stranded in Plymouth, Richard had married – despite having a wife and six children still living in Cornwall. With the second charge, any hope of reprieve vanished. He was hanged at Bodmin.
The history of forgery by Rachael Rowe
The Bloody Code Forgery at that time was not treated as a minor financial offence. It was treason. Between the late 18th and early 19th centuries, more than 200 crimes carried the death penalty – it was a period known as the Bloody Code. ‘Until 1779, women were burned at the stake for coining [making counterfeit coins],’ Rachael says. ‘It was considered treason. It was horrific.’ In 1797, the British government began issuing low-value paper banknotes to fund the war effort. A population unfamiliar with paper currency suddenly had to trust scraps of printed paper instead of metal coins. ‘They hadn’t even thought about the consequences,’ she says. ‘People couldn’t read. They didn’t understand the notes, and the change opened the door to forgery. Between 1797 and 1812, more than 300 people were sent to the gallows. Some were skilled engravers bribed by gangs. Some were architects or artisans whose talents were redirected into criminal enterprise. Some were simply desperate. ‘There were greedy people,’ she says. ‘But there were also people living right on the edge of a society which didn’t look after them.’
The person behind the crime Initially, Rachael admits, she viewed her ancestor as ‘a bit of a rogue’. It took a writing workshop to shift her perspective. ‘Someone said to me, “This isn’t just a crime story. It’s about social inequality.” And that changed everything.’ When it suited society, Richard had been useful – he was a founder of a poor school for disadvantaged children, he was a press-ganged sailor and a schoolmaster aboard ship. But when he needed support, there was none. ‘The newspaper report of the forgery case said nothing about his teaching career,’ she says. ‘Nothing about the school he’d set up. Nothing about the apprenticeships he’d signed off.’ As she delved further into forgery cases, her curiosity and research widened. She discovered the committed excise officer in Scotland who had spent years tracking down smugglers – who then lost his job when whisky production was regulated and turned to forging notes to pay his debts. There was an architect transported to Australia for forgery whose face would later appear – legally – on a banknote. There were stories of engravers who both designed legitimate currency and copied it. ‘It really made me look at the person behind the crime,’ she says. Today, fraud is largely digital, often invisible and is usually measured in statistics and headlines. In the late 18th century. It was public, brutal … and deeply tied to class. The History of Forgery is available via Pen & Sword and major retailers. Locally, there are copies in 1855 in Sturminster Newton.
A local expert from Citizen’s Advice provides timely tips on consumer issues.
Q: I bought a doll for my child recently. I thought it was manufactured by a well-known brand, but I suspect it might be counterfeit. How can I be sure and what are my rights?
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A : You’re right to seek advice about this iissue, because counterfeit goods aren’t only illegal, they can be dangerous. Counterfeit goods are fake products designed to mimic authentic ones and it’s not always easy to spot a knock-off. Fake children’s toys often don’t meet safety standards and can pose choking hazards – poor manufacturing can mean small parts are easily detachable. It’s not just toys and games – things like clothing, footwear, e-cigarettes, perfumes and media devices can also be counterfeit. Watch out for strangely low prices from well-known brands and signs of poor quality like missing security seals, bad or non-existent packaging, blurry logos and poor stitching. You may also spot spelling mistakes in the advert or on the packaging. Looking at photos from official sellers can help when making comparisons, and it’s important to only buy products from reputable sellers. If you have purchased a counterfeit item, there are steps you can take to try and get your money back. You’re legally entitled to a full refund on fake goods within 30 days of your purchase. If it’s between 30 days and six months since you paid, the seller can provide you with a real version of the item first. If they can’t, they’re legally required to give you a full refund. If you paid more than six months ago, you’re only entitled to a part-refund based on how much you’ve used the item and how long you’ve had it. Sometimes sellers might refuse to refund you, and argue the items were obviously fake because they were very cheap, but they’re breaking the law by selling them and your legal rights still apply. If you paid by debit card, contact your bank and ask to use the ‘chargeback scheme’. If you paid by credit card and the item cost less than £100, you can ask to use the same scheme. If you paid by credit card and the item cost between £100 and £30,000, tell your credit card company you want to make a ‘section 75’ claim to get your money back. To report counterfeit goods – or get help getting your money back – contact Citizens Advice Consumer Service on 0808 223 1133.
The BV community news section is sponsored by Wessex Internet
Walk into any bustling village shop or farm stall in North Dorset, and the soundscape of local commerce has perceptibly changed. Gone is the constant clatter of heavy coins dropping into a till tray, replaced increasingly by the soft, singular beep of a contactless card reader. It is a subtle shift, but one that symbolises a significant change in how our rural communities conduct their daily business. For generations, cash was king in the countryside, essential for everything from buying a pint of milk to settling a tab at the local pub after a long walk.
Today, however, small business owners find themselves straddling two different worlds. They must cater to the traditionalist who prefers the tangibility and budgeting control of banknotes while also upgrading systems for the digital-first customer who rarely carries a wallet. This transition brings both opportunities and challenges for our local economy, raising important questions about inclusivity, the cost of convenience, and the future of the high street. As banking infrastructure in rural areas continues to shrink, the debate over payment methods becomes less about preference and more about practicality.
The declining use of cash in villages
The statistics regarding our changing habits are undeniable and paint a stark picture of financial evolution. Cash payments fell to 4.4 billion in 2024, now sitting below direct debits and credit cards, while debit cards accounted for half of all UK payments. For a rural shopkeeper, this means the end-of-day cashing up process is becoming less about counting copper and more about reconciling digital ledgers.
The days of taking a heavy bag of takings to the nearest bank branch, which itself might have closed down years ago, are fading fast, pushing businesses toward digital solutions simply to survive.
However, it would be premature to write an obituary for physical currency just yet, as it remains vital for many residents. Older generations and those on strict fixed incomes often rely on cash to manage their weekly spending effectively, finding it easier to track than digital numbers on a screen.
The challenge for Dorset’s independent retailers is maintaining the infrastructure to accept cash when the volume of transactions drops. They often incur bank fees for depositing cash that eat into their already tight margins, creating a difficult balancing act between serving the community and maintaining profitability.
Consumer demand for speed and digital security
The main driver behind this change is undoubtedly the tech-savvy consumer’s desire for speed and flawless transactions. These days, waiting is the enemy, and digital solutions are expected to be instantaneous, whether buying groceries or managing entertainment online. This expectation of immediacy extends to all digital interactions, from banking to leisure. For instance, enthusiasts who find Bitcoin casinos with fast withdrawals in the UK prioritise platforms that offer instant access to their funds, reflecting a broader consumer intolerance for processing delays. Unlike traditional banking methods that can take days to clear, cryptocurrency withdrawal times at these sites are near-instant.
This demand for efficiency has influenced the high street experience, especially during busy periods like market days. Customers now expect to tap and go without breaking their stride, viewing the PIN pad or the search for exact change as cumbersome relics of the past.
Security also plays a significant role; carrying large sums of cash feels riskier to many than carrying a card or a smartphone. Digital trails offer a sense of security and easy tracking of expenditure that a pocketful of paper receipts simply cannot match, driving the preference for electronic payments even for minor purchases.
Preserving personal service alongside modern technology
Despite the rush for efficiency, the heart of Dorset business remains its personal touch and community connection. The danger of automation is that it can strip away the social interaction that defines village life, the chat about the weather or the inquiry about the family. Yet, technology can also facilitate smoother transactions that leave more time for conversation. Over 90% of UK consumers prefer contactless payments for transactions under £100, with businesses reporting a significant surge in usage following the limit increase.
This efficiency means queues move faster during the busy lunch rush, allowing staff to serve more people without the stress of handling change. When the payment process is frictionless, the barrier between customer and shopkeeper is removed.
The key for local merchants is to ensure that the technology serves the relationship rather than replacing it. A card reader should be a tool that facilitates the sale, allowing the shop owner to focus on the customer rather than fumbling for coins, ensuring the warmth of rural hospitality remains intact.
Supporting local shops regardless of payment method
In the end, the method of payment is secondary to the survival of the business itself. Whether a customer pays with a crisp ten-pound note or a smartwatch, the revenue stays within the community, supporting local families and suppliers.
It is vital to remember that not everyone has migrated to digital solutions, and exclusion is a real risk. Recent research highlights that 52% of UK consumers still use cash weekly, showing an ongoing reliance on physical currency despite the dominance of debit cards.
Excluding cash entirely risks alienating a significant portion of the local demographic, particularly in rural areas where internet connectivity can still be sporadic. The most resilient businesses in Dorset are those that remain hybrid, welcoming the future without shutting the door on the past. By accepting both card and cash, our local shops ensure they remain accessible to everyone, preserving the community spirit that makes this county unique while adapting to the inevitable march of technology.
What do you call a gathering of parish councillors? A tribe? A murmuration? (A wrangle? A mutter? A grievance? – Ed) Whatever we are called, I always welcome the opportunity to meet up with fellow councillors – it’s a great way to share ideas and to swap experiences (usually of dealing with the scourge of developers and a multitude of potholes). It was at one of these recent gatherings that Dorset Council shared its latest thoughts on planning. The big news was, of course. that the Planning and Infrastructure Act received Royal Assent in December. This is the wildly ambitious plan to Get Britain Building – to create 1.5 million new homes. As a consequence, most towns and villages are now being bombarded with planning applications – and the character of some places is being changed forever.
The Dorset Insider
While it’s important that the housing crisis is addressed, I have to wonder whether the homes we need – as opposed to the luxury homes beloved by developers that no local person can afford – are actually being built. Naturally, with Dorset currently unable to meet the five-year housing supply target, planning application numbers have increased. Now, and each year, 3,246 homes must be built in the county. That does not include the Bournemouth, Poole and Christchurch area, where there are additional targets. In practical terms, that means many existing Neighbourhood Plans – drawn up by town and parish councils to shape where and how development happens in their areas – will now be out of date. The mood in the room was interesting at this stage, almost like a mad pass-the-hot-potato game with no one wanting a large development on their own patch. Some council chairmen are clearly under siege from major developers. The usually smug ones from the AONB villages were not looking so smug as they swiftly realised that nothing in Dorset is sacred any longer. Will we see houses on Hambledon Hill or Bulbarrow? I think not … but it increasingly feels as though no meadow is safe. And as for North Dorchester and its abundance of water, the recent flooding should have sent a very clear message to planners – but it won’t have. And if it’s not housing on that meadow everyone loves, it may yet become a field of solar panels.
You will be overridden Many parishes and towns have spent hours drawing up their Neighbourhood Plans. Designed to allow a certain amount of development and have a settlement boundary, they have always taken hours of unpaid work and, in many cases, high consultancy fees. It’s always good to have a strategic way forward and some of these plans have been agreed by local referendum. However, as the good people of Pimperne know, a Neighbourhood Plan is not worth much when it comes to the council’s decision-making process. I’m currently wondering if we should even bother to spend money on our own parish Neighbourhood Plan if it is simply going to be overridden when housing targets loom. The answer to this dilemma came with the decision-making processes for agreeing developments. As the Neighbourhood Plans are out of date, the policies in the Dorset Local Plan will take precedence. This also means that if a local Neighbourhood Plan says something that does not accord with the Dorset Local Plan, the latter takes precedence. In other words, all that local knowledge will be disregarded – you need to say the right things, speak the mantra and align with the planners, or risk being overridden. Hopefully some Neighbourhood Plan thinking can be included in the Dorset Local Plan (LP). While another iteration of the Dorset LP is expected in August, at this stage it feels less like a consultation and more like a done deal at this stage. Developers are actively submitting plans regardless of any public consultation.
Why bother? All of this is very difficult. As a parish councillor, I’m left having to explain to people why our opinions count for nothing. And why productive fields are being lost when national food security is a live concern. People are asking why some new homes that are said to be ‘desperately needed’ remain unsold locally. Why build more? They are asking why promised social housing has not been prioritised by developers, when that is the exact housing needed to stem the accommodation crisis. And local people are demanding answers about drainage and flood protection – none of which is solved by developers as if they were a silver bullet. However, what frustrates people the most is that so many have contributed productive ideas to these Neighbourhood Plans: plans which do include more housing as there is a recognition that additional homes are needed. To see these careful plans overridden, hours of unpaid work brushed aside and hard-won local knowledge dismissed is not only deeply disappointing, it sends a clear message to volunteers: why bother? This is not a NIMBY moan. It is a serious question. Does any parish or town council truly have a voice any more? Or are we expected to sit down, shut up and allow developers to concrete over whichever part of the countryside is next? The voters deserve better.
***The Dorset Insider is a no-holds-barred column pulling back the curtain on local affairs with insight, honesty and the occasional raised eyebrow. Written by a seasoned parish councillor who prefers to remain anonymous (for obvious reasons), it cuts through the noise to expose the frustrations of grassroots politics, and say what others won’t. Rest assured, their identity is known – and trusted – by the editorial team. Expect opinion, candour … and a healthy dose of exasperation:***
