My Land

A planning application to build on a field I love is under consultation

Wiltshire Council currently has a planning application to build housing and a roundabout on my field. Yes, my field: I turn away from the traffic on Bath Road and into my field and the run begins in earnest, I am into my trails. I’ve enjoyed sunrises from this field. I’ve finished my longer runs in this field, promising myself that if I can just make it to the gate before the road, I can stop. 

I’ve seen crops grow and be harvested. I’ve run my hands through their grasses. I’ve been caught off guard by random poppies, their little red heads unmissable among the beach of barley. I love the big old trees. I love them so very much.

Then this sign appeared on the gate. I saw it on 30th August. The deadline for comments was 18th July. This sign definitely-absolutely went up after that deadline. I know, I’m always here. I am furious. I admit I am a sensitive soul, but I cried when I later looked up the extent of the plans and saw that it was indeed the whole of that field. And I don’t know why the roundabout bothers me so much. Sometimes roundabouts are pretty. But they’re largely opportunities for drivers and cyclists to get confused about who’s going first.  

There’s already a housing estate next to this field. It’s perfectly nice, elegantly done. One of the houses has a clock on the side which I find extremely useful when I’m tearing back through the last mile and have fifteen minutes until I need to get back out for work. Probably crucially, I don’t mind this housing estate because it was already here when I moved here. 

But my field. 

My butterflies, my scurrying wildlife. And all of that which belongs to the walkers, dog walkers and fellow runners who also cross it. When the field is ploughed, it only takes a day or so for the path to be reinstated by the feet who pass through there. 

But of course, it’s not our field at all. This is nimbyism, I know. People need homes and the farmer will have been offered a considerable amount of money for the land. It’s happening everywhere. It’s happened in my hometown: a trail I enjoy is now interspersed with housing. And it’s fine. We get used to these things. We have no choice. The public right of way is maintained, which is the chief concern. 

But where will my gentle poppies grow?

At the time of writing, a decision has not yet been made. I check on the application portal and the outcry of comments - despite the July deadline - has been articulate and passionate. I learn that there is a North Wiltshire Swifts association. I love swifts. They have a Facebook group. I have now joined the Facebook group. 

I also learn that this is not the first time they’ve tried to build on this land, and lost. So we will see. I am encouraged to read just how much this field means to other people. I hope we have strength in numbers, and in history. In poppies, and in swifts.