More green fields are under threat this side of Bradford from the greedy corporates aided by our inept Council. As I write this, a six-day hearing is taking place at City Hall to determine the fate of nearby Cote Farm.
Given previous experience there is little cause for optimism on the part of objectors that beautiful open spaces will be saved.
To be fair, in this case originally “councillors…had sided with objectors, raising concerns over traffic and highways safety, capacity in local schools, and the impact on urban green space, wildlife and local heritage.”
However, the lack of a five year plan for housing land plays right back into the hands of the developer, Persimmon plc. And it now appears our hapless Council have flip-flopped.
According to the T&A, the “Council had decided not to defend its position on three key points – capacity in local schools, traffic and highways safety and concern over wildlife.”
One can understand there being no point in discussing spare capacity in schools because none of them have any.
“Eric Owen, solicitor for Bradford Council, said the developers had agreed to make an “appropriate” payment towards local schools, if the scheme were to go ahead.”
Surely not one of those Section 106 bungs Mr Owen?
Despite assertions from Owen that the Council were not “rolling over” the fact is local schools are rammed to capacity and it is easier to pass the Afghan border than travel along Leeds Road either way.
Persimmon have tickled your fat bellies, dangled a bit of cash and it seems it’s a done deal; I hope I am wrong but the gormless Council do have “form” here.
For the “suits” Persimmon’s solicitor, Richard Sagar, said the development would provide “much-needed housing”. Soothing words from those who do not give a shit about the housing needs of Bradford and would probably need GPS to find the place.
Crucially, “…he said there should be a five-year housing land supply, but that the current supply fell short “by some considerable margin” and this wasn’t due to be rectified for two and a half years.”
Nah, nah, nah, nah, nah then! And big kerr-ching!
As I wrote back in February what is being allowed to happen this side of town is a disgrace.
These houses will do nothing to address any housing shortages in Bradford and if our Council is populated by those too dumb to understand this then it really is a sad reflection of a once proud city.
Headingley Here We Come
Captain Brennan has made his selection for this Sunday’s semi-final clash at the iconic Headingley stadium with a problem unheard of on Saturdays…too many players.
Despite injuries and holidays, tough decisions had to be made as Brennan locked himself away in his Ilkley B&B unable to pester the guests as he slaved late into the night with pencil and rubber to hand.
A peace descended over Dalesview like never before as partner Sally revelled with repeat bookings.
Eventually he wandered bleary-eyed from the darkness of the cellar, clutching his team sheet with a heavy heart, knowing dreams were about to be quashed.
Never will we see Big Al hobbling on the lush turf attempting to kick the ball in seventy yards causing Fred Trueman to shudder in his grave.
And so we visit Headingley once again, where greats have trodden over generations, absorbing our surreal surroundings, secretly hoping not to make too big a fool of ourselves and simply do the best we can.
Say a silent prayer for us.
Dear Mrs Bayne
I’ve chosen not to write to you for a few weeks just in case my reports of David’s batting caused Mr Bayne to commence extradition procedures between our two nations.
I blame young Mr Hartley’s mid-season injury but the good news is Jack is fit again and should not be dragging your boy all over town seeking beers and pizza as a from of recuperation.
It was a strangely quiet Monday morning here as your boy had flown the nest for a week on the South coast; time to get the duster out, plump up a few cushions and watch a few rom-coms without fear of having the piss taken out of me.
As there were no reported crashes of tiny planes on the news I assumed all was well and the rubber-band propelled toy plane he was booked on actually managed to get off the ground at the local airstrip.
Having taken the same flight several years ago, it was a pleasure to frighten the life out of the boy for the whole of last week; BA First Class this is not, much more like a ride on an ancient wooden roller-coaster.
With a week free of being frightened out of my skin as I temporarily forget I have a guest – thinking I have an intruder instead and instantly making a puddle – I have been singing backing vocals to Barbara Streisand to my heart’s content in my kitchen.
At my age you don’t need too many shocks but thank God he has not witnessed the disco dancing, unlikely to ever get a slot on Strictly Come Dancing. It won’t be long till the nursing home come calling they keep telling me.
We only have four more games left and things have got that desperate here they have even recalled me to Team 1. Personally I think it is for the quality of my toiletries, abilities as a chauffeur and the odd drink I buy the Captain.
Still we had a win on Saturday and I managed to keep him off the dreaded pizza; we had a curry instead – my annual visit down the hill – after one or two beers.
Down into the village of the damned we trod and awaited Sunday morning with shared dread and iced Andrex.
Our opponents last week are struggling this season, reflecting a game in desperate need of change, with too few players to go around. It was very hard not to feel sorry for them.
I hope I can keep my place this week having done little wrong – actually having done nothing at all – bar having brought along several bags of the Captain’s favourite jelly beans.
Who knows, maybe I will get to bat with the boy, though if he runs me out it will be the greenhouse floor and back to Mr Khan’s pizzas!
And finally, there was a survey recently that suggested that here in Bradford of all places we are nuts about sex. Written by eminent Professor U.T.A Bollocks, the survey suggested in Bradford all we do is shag, at least when we put down our beers.
“Steve” asked the boy wide eyed at the possibilities “is this true? How come I’ve not seen a woman under sixty in the Bear?”
I had to counsel him that the only reason we have sex with the local women is the same rationale an Eskimos hunts a seal. It’s cold up here and we all need a bit of free warmth every now and then.
Hardly Fifty Shades but the truth hurts sometimes.
Lyn Bayne says
Dear Steve.. thanks for the update. Congratulations to you and your team of spring chickens on your fine performance at Headingley. Hang in there Steve, the return of your home to normality is no longer beyond the horizon. Your presence in the Villas 1st X1 has obviously boosted them.. 2 wins in a row!! Regards Lyn
Steve says
Dear Lyn
I’m reliably informed that I’m only picked for the comedy value though the addition of Jo Malone Amber & Lavender fragrance to the 1st team dressing room has given me added value too.
Not sure how I will cope without the technology advice during the winter nor the strange looks as I stand out in the rain pruning my crops, soothing them with encouraging words against the onset of our cold winter.
Not long till you see him.
Regards
Steve