A bruising encounter in Slip End

The last meeting, the evening in Caddington School, alarmed me. Not because the protest meeting was so passionate - that's good. It's heartening that so many people feel deeply involved in the future of their village, and that they want to influence decisions. But because I was unconvinced that they were being told all the facts. Local politician Richard Stay is eloquent, almost too eloquent. He knows the result he wishes to achieve, and the words he uses are designed to stir up strong feelings, for instance, anyone who might dare to agree with the proposed development was described as "rolling over." Anyone who disagrees with Mr Stay is described as "bonkers". When someone says something he disapproves of, he grimaces, rolls his eyes and shakes his head. An email I received from someone who was present described the atmosphere as "rabble rousing." The Caddingtonites were not of course rabble, but they were certainly roused.

I had said at the meeting that I was sorry the developers themselves were not there, to answer questions. After the meeting one of them got in touch with me, and I went to try and find out more. Looking at the actual plans in detail was very interesting. Mr Stay had said the plan was to "concrete over" eight hundred acres. It turns out that at least half that area would remain green, devoted to woodland, fields, and allotments. There would be a great deal of provision for disabled people and the elderly, there would be a health centre and the famous twenty thousand seater all-weather stadium, and quarter-mile green buffer zones to protect Caddington and Slip End, specifically to protect their character as villages. But there would indeed be 5,500 new houses. A dramatic change to the local landscape.

A couple of days later, last Friday, I went to the second protest meeting in Slip End, to see if the developers would be there this time. (I had a delicious fish-cake beforehand in the Frog and Rhubarb, thoroughly recommended. Good thing, as it turned out). The village hall was hot and packed to capacity. Mr Stay was on the platform again, flanked by parish councillors from Slip End and Caddington who remained fairly silent while Mr Stay paced the stage like a Roman warrior defending the troops in a heroic siege. This time he described the green buffer zones around the villages as "hedges", and declared that he was utterly opposed to the plans "on principle."

When my turn to speak came, I said what about the principle of informed choice? Were they sure they had been given all the information they needed? Would they like me to chair a debate between those who propose the development, and those who oppose it, so that everyone could hear the arguments both ways, and ask questions? Mr Stay was rolling his eyes. He was still in warrior mood. He declared he could see no reason for any more information, he promised the villagers a vigorous fight, an expensive fight, and one that would make "a lot of noise." He is obviously looking forward to the battle, and relished the idea. And in a final vote, the meeting agreed with him.

I retired to the Frog and Rhubarb to think things through. Obviously I would have preferred the villagers to have the opportunity to discuss their concerns directly with the developers. They might even persuade the developer to withdraw the plans, which would save the villagers a lot of money, and Mr Stay a lot of pacing and eye-rolling.

Personally I love the green belts we have preserved around our towns and cities, including the one around Luton. Like everyone there, I would far prefer good housing should be placed on brown field sites. I also know that Luton is gasping for more space. I was given a copy of the core strategy, which will outline the choices. Plenty to think about.

For me, the bad news was the amount of heat and anger aroused at the two meetings, when the villagers desperately need cool heads, logical thinking, cold hard facts and clear evidence on their side. The good news was that I had a chance to meet the Caddingtonites and Slip Enders. I'd love to return for an evening just to talk to local people, to hear their views on a range of other local issues, if they'll have me. Whatever they tell me, I promise not to call them bonkers.