Corporate Wasteland

“Hey, we’ve arrived! Drop the bags, get to the pool! Let’s hope there’s a lift!”
“I know you don’t want to do any work, the agent will do it for you.”
Ever since the electricity pylons went up across the hills and dales, scarring the landscape, the people who control the public realm have thought they can get away with most stuff. Anything of elegance is vilified (like windmills), while destruction and bullying (war & nuclear power) are excused as necessary. In the towns, our streets have become cicatrices, scratching their skidmarks through our homeland. Our cities are a gravy-train of slap-downs, dig-ups and patch-overs. The pathways are tarmaced and crowded with hurtling metallic butcher-cars, exterminating mums with prams. The simple reality is we go out for a stroll in any town and our lives are threatened and our liberties trampled over by a continuous tsunami of vehicles.
This is the post-modern scene we need to find a way out of.
We need to find a way of working together, sharing ownership, taking pride, becoming involved in the change. We need to divert the billions of pounds wasted every year on installing soon-to-be-junk, towards objects and plants that will last and grow; something that frees the next generation from repeating the same mistakes; something that makes our public spaces welcoming, attractive, calm. Places where we enjoy meeting others, where we can hear a conversation, where we can celebrate with others from time to time, without risking our lives or sinking into one hundred years of depression.
It’s easier to do things well, than badly. So there is an imperative to stop the corporate gravy-train that trashes most of our shared space and thinks it can use the system over again to get planning permission to despoil our towns and countryside. Any old fool can make things complicated; you need some good old common sense to keep things simple.