Burnham Market row does nobody in the village any good

Two men living in smart homes on a leafy land in and oh-so-Chi-Chi genteel designers ‘Chelsea on Sea’ feuding about change.

One, an elected councillor and parish council chair Dennis Clark giving his time to the community, quoted in a national newspaper saying there was a “genuine hatred” of second home and holiday let owners, which he insists is a misrepresentation.

He does, however, lament the lack of community in the village and its inability to field cricket or football teams because of its shortage of permanent locals and lack of affordability for locals to live in the village.

His neighbour, Tim Roberts, who owns four businesses in the village, has banned Mr Clark from them all demanding he quits, accusing him of whipping up bad feeling second homeowners and visitors, who are his customers and keep the village alive.

What a petty pickle and terrible example this debacle. Their war of words is sadly typical of the polarised ‘debate’ today. Two clear sides with intransigent opinions and never the twain shall meet.

I’m curious about how Mr Roberts is imposing the ban. With photos of Mr Clark displayed in his business windows – perhaps in a banned red circle sign?

News of the ban spread, and Mr Clark said his wife is uncomfortable going about her business in the village because of the bad feeling. Surely it is as incendiary to stir up negative feelings as the original accusation against Mr Clark.

Two wrongs and all that.

Whatever you might think of his views, rather than trying to force Mr Clark to quit a job that no one else might want – the role of a parish councillor is a labour of love, let alone chair’s role, coming under attack from all sides – how about Mr Roberts invites Mr Clark to one of his restaurant tables to talk it through like intelligent, sensible pillars of the community?

A resolution would be far more likely than the intransigent I ban you, you must resign approach.

Remembering Burnham Market and other transformed areas of North Norfolk, like Wells and Holt, back in the 1980s, they are unrecognisable today. They are lovely to visit, wander around, pop into the ‘lifestyle’ shops, but they do have that slightly unreal Desperate Housewives set feel.

The village has one of the UK’s highest concentrations of second homes. In winter months they are bleak and deathly quiet.

I’m sure if my family had lived there for generations but had been forced out by the telephone number home prices, I’d feel more than a tad disgruntled by its profile today and its lack of community feel.

To start what is effectively a campaign against a councillor for voicing worries for those who don’t have a voice – those he was elected by to represent - feels like a hammer to crack a nut, over-inflated response, or ego.

It leaves a bad taste.  

Not that Mr Clark’s outspokenness about people investing in the village shouldn’t ruffle feathers.

But it is a sad state of affairs that the village can’t field teams and is effectively a dormitory village.

Mr Clark said: "Obviously traders in the village benefit massively, and estate agents make a fortune, but there is also a lot of anger.”

But the change has happened, and the high spenders are now the lifeblood of Burnham Market. The change will never be reversed but the bad feeling can be.

Rather than the silly impasse, both parties could work together and set an example for the benefit of the whole community.

Perhaps one solution is for second homeowners to contribute more to the community and play a part in the village development as well as keep the village alive with their money spent in stores and restaurants.

Like other communities across West Norfolk, second home owners will face a 100pc surcharge on their council tax from 2025.

The squabble is a sad spectacle. A Georgian village that might be pretty and quaint on the outside but seething with bitterness and unpleasantness behind the Farrow and Ball painted doors.

It does nothing to attract anyone, resident or visitor.

Rise of the voice note

Voice notes are how Gen X use mobile phones now, apparently.

No one texts anymore, I’m told. It’s all voice notes, but short and to the point, not rambling soliloquies challenging lengthy podcasts.

For once, I’m ahead of the curve. My elder son always uses them and introduced them as a fantastic way for regular communication with my oldest friend in New Zealand.

After 28 years apart, it is the perfect way to overcome the time difference for regular calls but still hear each other’s voices rambling about everyday stuff.

My morning journey to work now is often listening to her wandering her house in the evening filling me in about work, her sons, life fashion, and vice versa.

It’s revolutionised our contact.

It’s also a fantastic way to communicate with people going through treatment for serious illnesses, who are in hospital or too tired to chat.

Voice notes back and forth can only lift spirits.