Desolate. What a word! There was quite a stir yesterday when Lord Howell of Guildford used it when referring to the North East. There were swift indignant responses from many who know that North East England is a rather wonderful place to live. Facebook and Twitter were full of pictures of the region; Durham Cathedral, The Sage Gateshead, Bamburgh Castle, and many more examples of the North East not being desolate.
Such a response was understandable and justified. It may not have been Lord Howell's intention, but in the context in which it was used, the word 'desolate' was offensive. This was a man of privilege; an old Etonian, tory peer, father-in-law of the chancellor of the exchequer standing up in the house of lords and referring to one of the more deprived areas of the country as desolate. Bad move.
However, I would like to reclaim the 'D word' for the North East, and argue that we should embrace it. This is not because I agree with Lord Howell - I don't, and this is not intended as a defence of what he said. Neither am I trying to criticise those who reacted indignantly to him yesterday - they were entirely justified in doing so.
'Desolate' is such an emotive word. While some adjectives simply describe things in factual terms (e.g. parts of the North East are coastal), the word desolate to me seems to be pure poetry. It is what the word evokes that is important, rather than what it means.
The trouble is that yesterday when Lord Snooty said what he said, the word 'desolate' sounded to many like 'godforsaken hell-hole, unfit for human habitation'. Hence the gasps of horror in the chamber. But that's not the sense in which I want to use the word.
Before yesterday if you had asked me to describe my little bit of the North East, I may well have used the word desolate. For me, it is a word that says wild, untamed, rugged. I am not talking about the thriving culture of Tyneside, or the historical treasures of Hadrian's Wall, or the spiritual richness of Durham or Lindisfarne. I live high up in the North Pennines. The lead-mining industry, gone for more than a century still defines the landscape. The open moorland stretches for miles. Derelict cottages and mine-workings are gradually being absorbed back into the hill-side. I live seven miles from the nearest post-office, fifteen miles from the nearest railway station, if I walk twenty for twenty minutes there is a bus stop where I can catch one of the five buses each day. There were times last winter when the snow made it impossible to drive within a mile of my house. There is no mains gas and no mains water. It's wild, lonely, desolate and wonderful.
But don't just take my word for it. Have a look at this guardian article about my local village of Allenheads,which describes the "desolate beauty" of the place.
Just over the hill from Allenheads is the Rookhope valley. It was often visited by W.H.Auden, and a place he described as the "...most wonderfully desolate of all the dales". Indeed it is:
Auden wrote:
In Rookhope I was first aware
Of Self and Not-self, Death and Dread.
There I dropped pebbles, heard
The reservoir of darkness stirred.
Only in somewhere as "wonderfully desolate" as Rookhope could such words have been penned.
The North East is a varied, vibrant, beautiful region, full of culture, history and fantastic people. But I am very glad to live in a desolate part of it, and am glad to use that word to describe it. If you don't believe me come and see for yourself, but please don't all come at once - those of us who live here rather like the solitude.
Lord Howell however is not welcome. And if he thinks he's going to extract shale gas from this area of outstanding natural beauty he can frack right off.
No comments:
Post a Comment