A Beautiful Life, or: 'The Estate We're In' - a BBC documentary on the story of West Hendon

Barratt Project Manager Nathan Smith and Barnet Tory leader Richard Cornelius

It is a curious experience, watching a film that features people you know, or have met, retold in a documentary, made for television, following the events of their lives through a sequence of events already familiar to you. 

Such a story, if you are lucky, in the hands of a gifted director, may become not just a process of documentation, but something else, a piece of work that reaches beyond the unfolding narrative and outline of the facts, and the sequence of events, and reveals something not seen before, or not acknowledged.

And this is what you find in watching  last night's BBC documentary,  'The Estate We're In' - the story of the destruction of a community in West Hendon, directed by Fran Roberts, and shot with assistant Alexis Wood - shot over a period of more than a year, during a crucial stage in the so called 'regeneration' of a council estate, by the side of the beautiful Welsh Harp. 

I've written many posts about this subject, but perhaps The Last Betrayal will give the best background to the film itself.

Faux regeneration: nature imitating art

The cinematic quality of the film at times creates a sense of unreality, as if the story were fiction: a drama, whose ending you could not predict, and which just might end more happily than you knew it would: than you know it did. 

And throughout the film, you wish desperately that the residents whose lives you follow could achieve a better outcome: a decent ending, if not a happy one, that recognised what is after all a basic human right, enshrined in law: not the right not to housing, but to the peaceful enjoyment of your home. 

This story is one that needed to be told, and told now, just before the London elections, not just because it is the story of one council estate in West Hendon, or a development that illustrates the merciless policies of one Tory authority, but because it tells the truth about the single most important issue facing our capital city.

That is of course the London housing crisis - and the myth of 'regeneration', that is devouring the social housing stock of our capital city, and creating vast profit for developers, at fatal cost to any community that might be in their way.

'The Estate We're In', filmed by a team of two women, focuses largely on a group of female residents, all of whom tell the story of West Hendon with great articulacy, expressed in the way that only comes from living in a time of heightened emotion, in the most distressing circumstances. 

Tenants, some of them, secure, and non secure - most tenants moved onto this estate over the last twelve years have been deliberately kept there on non secure agreements, so as to minimise their rights to rehousing, and only a few long term residents have security of tenure which was supposed to guarantee them homes on the new development. Supposed to. It didn't. 

The story of West Hendon, in Broken Barnet, is the story of broken promises. 

In the end, secure tenants were herded into an ugly building outside the luxury development, that denies them a view of the waterside, of course, and instead leaves them encircled by busy roads, and looking onto the backyards of kebab shops, and respray garages. 

Trying to exploit the motif of birds, an annexation that is so central to the virtual appropriation of West Hendon, down there, by the water's edge, Barratt London, who refused to take part in this film, have until recently refused to acknowledge the local history of the area, and named the new build properties after the birds who live around the harp, and whose protected status must be something the local residents view with envy.

And that is how the holding centre for the inconvenient secure tenants they cannot so easily dispose of became 'Bullfinch House'. Unsurprisingly, the building is better known to residents as 'Bullshit House'. It is also now plagued by an infestation of rodents, according to local councillors - the Labour members curiously annexed by the Tory leader as proof of the council's consideration for the people of West Hendon. 

Also featured in the film are leaseholders, former tenants, who bought their properties in good faith, encouraged by the local Conservative council - and who have now been utterly betrayed by that same Conservative council, offering them below market values for the compulsory purchase of their homes, which meant, conveniently, that they could not afford the shared equity purchase of new properties on the Barratt development, agreed in secret by the council, built on land given away for £3, despite being worth £12 million ...  

Another broken promise, having assured them they would have 'like for like' properties to replace their former homes.

Jacqui P

The estate itself is - was - on the edge of the waterside of the Welsh Harp, a Victorian reservoir, and a place of rare beauty: rare in the urban sprawl of North London, and here only yards away from the ceaseless traffic and and increasing dereliction of this part of the Edgware Road. Yards away, yet there, hidden away, a place of seclusion, bordered - until now - by trees and green spaces, the silent waters drawing the eye, from every angle, watched over by the geese and swans, and moorhen, and all the other species that make this location a site of Special Scientific Interest, and part of the uniquely lovely landscape that made this such a special place to live, for the residents in the film.

In truth, therein lies the reason for their eviction: the West Hendon estate was too beautiful for them to be allowed to enjoy, and in a time when everything has its price, such beauty must be inevitably be reserved for the exclusive use of those who can afford to buy it.

Barnet Council has apparently been trying to oblige the BBC to give them a preview of the film, which was refused. One can understand why they were so worried: not because of anything done by the production team, but simply because of the utter foolishness of the remarks made in the course of the programme by the Tory leader, Richard Cornelius, seen below laughing with his Tory colleagues, at the impassioned address made to them in the council chamber by a resident of West Hendon.

Cornelius looms over this film like a Victorian landlord, who sees slums all around him, and castigates the poor for living there, forgetting that the conditions they live in are his making, or at least the result of a Tory council, over many years, neglecting the maintenance of the buildings, so as to try to create the myth of a 'sink estate', worthy of condemning, or more importantly, ripe for development.

Barnet Tory councillors, including Barnet & Camden candidate Dan Thomas, left, and Leader Richard Cornelius, awfully amused by the speech made by a West Hendon resident.


'The buildings are grotty down there, he announces: They need rebuilding, there can be no doubt ...'

Yes, Councillor Cornelius, there can be doubt: there is doubt. They needed renovation, not demolition, and your council refused to consider that, and preferred to facilitate a luxury development, in its place, which has evicted and displaced the residents who lived there, has destroyed a happy, stable, and united community.

And what is 'grotty' to a Hatton Garden diamond merchant, who lives in well heeled comfort in Totteridge?  ... oh, hang on: not just grotty, actually no less than ... ghastly ...

'It is not an option to leave something ghastly for people to moulder in ...'

If the estate really were something 'ghastly', you fool, that is because your Tory chums have allowed it to become just that. And show some respect: you may not recognise the definition of 'community' in this context, or elsewhere - but you are talking about people's homes, their lives, and their families.

'One of the satisfactions of being a councillor is when something actually gets done, he says, in that self congratulatory way of his, on being shown round one of the new properties'.

'This is what makes it all worthwhile, seeing someone's new home, and comparing it with the former estate, and it's very important that people do have decent homes ... and this is an achievement ..'

Does this man really not understand what he and his Tory colleagues have done? That the people who are losing their homes, being evicted, watching them demolished, cannot live in these new properties? 

Only eight of the former residents, after a huge amount of protest, and publicity, have managed to be rehoused here, on latterly improved shared equity plans, and subject, after the end of capped agreements, to massive yearly charges which most of them will probably not be able to afford.

The film also interviews one of the new residents of West Hendon: 'Nicholas', a man of evidently substantial means, who looks like someone who features in Barratt's rather amusing sales brochures, in fact -  who bought one of the first penthouse flats on the waterside development, and has a property with a fabulous view. In fact he loves it so much, he bought another property. Lucky man.

When he belatedly becomes aware of the dispute which has involved the residents of the estate, he tries to be sympathetic, but says: 'they're living in accommodation which is clearly in disrepair, and falling down, and they are going to be moved into places which are bigger and better, and much more modern ...'

No, Nicholas, they are not. Read on.

They call this a slum, says Leigh, bemused, at the beginning of the film ... she has lived there for forty five years, and is a remarkable woman: intelligent, charming, sensitive, hard working: one of the many residents you see portrayed here who confound the offensive Tory demonisation of people who live in council estates.

Leigh, in her home of forty five years, now lost

Watching her forced from her home, with nowhere to go, is unbearable. I thought I had experienced every human emotion, until now, she says. 

It'll never, ever leave me ... it's just gone far too deep.

As she leaves for the last time, she leaves two roses on the floor of her home, and closes the door. How does that make you feel, she is asked? She cannot say. 

Because there are no words. 

Meet the two Jacquis: older women, with fierce determination, quiet dignity, and a slow burning fury that slips, at times into palpable distress, and deep sadness, that they should find themselves in this intolerable position, at this point in their lives.

Jacqui P, in the course of the film, visibly resigns herself to the merciless machinery of the 'regeneration' process, accepting, in the end, a one bedroomed flat, after being driven into ill health by the stress of the year's wrangling. As you will see from this post, she took part in the recent commemoration of the bombing of this part of West Hendon, and was clearly very upset when she read out the names of family members lost in the events of that terrible night: her roots in this community are far reaching, but this counts for nothing, when her presence here becomes an obstruction to the process of profit.

Jacqui S, a soft spoken, thoughtful Irishwoman, speaks sadly of her dilemma, watched over by an image of Christ, the light of the world, and one of a Polish saint, whom she trusts will deliver her into safety, in the end. She talks about those broken promises, and the cat and mouse treatment of residents by the developers, whose agents, it must be said continued what one residents referred to as 'psychological warfare' until the very end, when deals over properties were reluctantly agreed:

'... they prefer to slowly build in front of you, and torment you as they go along, torment you with the building work, torment you with the noise, torment you with the lorries, torment you with the dust and the grime that you have to breathe in, then torment you with threats: if you don't move, the CPO's going to come in and we're going to take your home from you .. how can you trust anybody after that? You can't trust them ...'

Jacqui C

Both Jacquis, in the end, are two of the lucky handful of residents who manage to force the developers into upping the offer to the minimum level that would enable to have shared equity in a flat in the new development. Nice, shiny new properties with a view: but not what they were promised, and at what cost in terms of the battle to achieve justice? 

Jacqui S looks around at her new home and observes, in a deeply moving remark that perhaps might serve as an epitaph for the community of the West Hendon estate, that a beautiful home does not make a beautiful life: friends and family, she says, do that. 

And that is the message which this film leaves, for those who can read it: the support of neighbours; family networks, and friendship are what have helped these residents through the ordeal they have been forced to endure: but the forging of those bonds was in the old estate, and in a sense of community built up, in some cases, over generations. And that has been destroyed by the development as effectively as the bulldozers knocked down their old homes in Marriotts Way, the residents scattered in the new diaspora of the dispossessed, evicted, moved away, and largely driven out of the borough.

But let's not forget those who remain to continue the fight - such as the indefatigable Jasmin Parsons, who has fought the 'regeneration' process with everything she has, and represented residents at the CPO hearing, as you will have seen. 

This was a process of staggering inequality, with developers and the council fronted by a hugely expensive QC, whose patrician manner you may witness in the film, dismissing out of hand, in his summing up, when he could not be contradicted, allegations in what he described as 'political' complaints made to the CPO about the way residents were treated, claiming falsely, he said, that their views were ignored, and that bullying and harassment had occurred. 

These allegations are simply not accepted, he says, as Jasmin looks on, silently, her expression unwittingly revealing the vulnerability which lies beneath her bravado, and apparently limitless resourcefulness. 

Jasmin Parsons

As someone who sat through all of the days of this Inquiry, it seemed to me that there was on the contrary, plenty of evidence of all of those claims: certainly the perception amongst residents was that they had been excluded from consultation, and as in the case of Jacqui S, threatened and intimidated by the process imposed on them.

Consider now the case of Dorothy, also featured in the film: shocked to find she and her nine year old daughter had no security of tenancy, or rights, when it came to re-housing, other than to be summarily evicted, and wake up one morning to find a complete stranger in her house, with keys, and power to throw her out, with only an overnight bag, and a direction to emergency accommodation. 

If you want to talk about grotty housing, Richard Cornelius, or even slums, you might find a better definition here, in the squalid bedsit you assigned to Dorothy, and her little girl. 

Except Dorothy's daughter could not be allowed to sleep there,  in a damp room, with a hole in the skirting board gnawed away by rats, and only her mother was left to sleep in the unfurnished rooms, with not even a duvet, or pillow,  a pot or a pan to cook in, while she was denied access to her personal possessions, for three long weeks.

Dorothy, allowed back home to West Hendon to pack her belongings, after three weeks

And do you know, Richard, the most heartbreaking, gut wrenching thing of all, about this hard working, 'aspirational' mother, that you condemned to this pitiful end? 

After recalling the pride she felt in moving into the home from which she was evicted, she tells us, in the film, 'I don't want to be a member of society that's unable to support myself ' ... And as she leaves her home, with her few belongings in a small suitcase, she says she only ever wanted 'to make myself somebody in this world ...' 

And here it is, neatly nailed, by Dorothy, and Jacqui S, and Jacqui P, and Cindy, Katrina, Joe, Jasmin and all the others: the lie that is at the heart of the Tory ethos, more bullshit than could ever be accommodated at Bullshit House: the pretence that they are acting according to some sort of moral principle, that they emulate the ideal, created by Margaret Thatcher, of an aspirational, property-owning working class that seeks to become socially mobile, to work towards a better future.

There is nowhere more fitting than here in Broken Barnet to witness this ideal being destroyed, by the same viral infection that Margaret introduced into the laboratory of political experimentation. It cannot be contained: mutating now into an uncontainable crisis, spread by the rampant greed of the right, the unstoppable progress of market forces, and the worship of profit, it threatens now to undermine the foundations of Tory ideology - and could bring the whole edifice crashing down.

The property market in London, the rental sector, and now the cost of housing: all has become unsustainable: an unregulated market is turning our city into something similar to how the Hendon MP, Matthew Offord would like to portray the community of West Hendon, and other estates in his own backyard: a no go area for ordinary people.

Barnet's housing spokesperson, Tom Davey, who wisely avoided being filmed for this programme, once said he was glad that places like West Hendon, with their monstrous towers of luxury accommodation, and penthouse flats, were being built not for local people, who would 'depend on council services', but for 'Russian oligarchs'. We want only well off people in Barnet, according to him.

Jacqui C's home

At least he was more honest than his group leader. It is reported that of the first 38 properties in West Hendon to be sold, the vast majority of them went to overseas buyers, most of whom will no doubt never live here, but have been bought off plan, in cash, for investment. 

Even by the Tories' standards, this cannot possibly be presented in any way as meeting the housing needs of this borough, or this city.

If Zac Goldsmith is elected as Mayor, or Dan Thomas, who speaks so glibly in the film about the 'success' of this development, is elected for Barnet and Camden; and if David Cameron's government have their way, every council estate in London will be subject to a 'regeneration' process similar to West Hendon. 

Sadiq Khan has commented on the documentary shown last night:

"I grew up on a council estate in South London which meant my brothers, sister and I had a stable and secure place to call home. We had a strong local community when we were growing up - the kind of community that, in Barnet, the Tory council is uprooting on the West Hendon estate.


"If I'm elected Mayor, I'll make sure estate regeneration only takes place where there is resident support - and where there are full rights to return for displaced tenants and a fair deal for leaseholders."

The plans - threats - to 'regenerate' the council estates of London by Zac Goldsmith, followed by vague assurances of rehousing for existing tenants, must be measured by the history of promises made by Tory administrations here, in Barnet: and the message is clear, then - if you watched this programme tonight, and it appalled you, as it should, remember this, in May, when you are at the ballot box. 

This is the future you do not want to see,in your borough, in your estate, or your community: but if we do not speak up now, the story of West Hendon, and every other regeneration estate in this borough, will be the story of London, and the end of social housing, in the capital city -  and everywhere else.  

All pics courtesy BBC/Two Step Productions

Strawberry Vale: a new battlefront in the war on the poor, in Broken Barnet

Barnet and Camden AM Andrew Dismore and local councillors witness Red Cross deliveries in Strawberry Vale

Look at this picture.

It is a photograph of a Red Cross vehicle bringing food to a community in need.

It is not in a battle zone, or an area of the world affected by a natural disaster.

It is not in a country struggling to cope with a movement of refugees fleeing war or persecution.

It is taken in the UK, in the Tory run London Borough of Barnet, which boasts some of the most affluent residential areas in the country, one of them only a short distance away, at the other end of East Finchley.

So yes: now let me take you down, because we're going, to ... not Strawberry Fields, Forever, but to ... Strawberry Vale: a housing estate blessed with a name of bucolic splendour, that speaks of the distant past of what was once a part of Finchley Common, and one of the last remaining farms in this area, as the urban sprawl encroached further and further into the sequence of villages strung along the Great North Road, leading out of London into rural Middlesex. 

This estate, largely Brutalist architecture in form and style, was built by Barnet in the late seventies, to a design by 'Bickerdike Allen Bramble', a formidable construction described latterly by Pevsner:

"long curving five-storey barrier block, part of a high-density mixed housing development ... sheltering behind, tightly packed clusters of low houses with abrupt monopitch roofs, all in the same monotonous brown brick ..."

The estate, now comprising not just tenants, but leaseholders and freeholders, was taken over in 1998 by the Peabody Trust, now one of the oldest and largest housing associations in the UK, founded in 1862 by the nineteenth century philanthropist George Peabody, an American banker who invested wealth in the cause of improving the living conditions of those living in his adopted country. Peabody, according to its own stated 'vision' sees itself as the architect not of buildings, as such, but of 21st century communities: 

• where people feel they belong 
• where people have homes that meet their needs and are suitable for the changing circumstances of life 
• where the landlord’s service is tailored to the individual 
• where no child is living in poverty 
• where all residents are supported in their daily lives and in their longer-term aspirations 
• part of the wider, local area 
• a sustainable environment

George Peabody

Very fine principles, and ideals: but the truth is, at least in Strawberry Vale, that many children now do live in poverty: the estate is listed as the most socially deprived area in Barnet, and is in the top percentage of such areas on a national scale too. Just across the other side of the High Road there is a foodbank operating at the weekends, run by local churches.

Only last November a new Housing Association was formed on the estate by residents. Shortly afterwards an issue emerged which has proved to be the first test of this new body: a disruption in the supply of gas to residents, leaving them without cooking facilities, and in the case of a few households, even without heating. Christmas was a miserable time for some tenants, unable to cook their lunch, and for some time meals had to be provided in a community centre. And as we see from the photograph above, emergency supplies have been supplied by the Red Cross.

One resident, a mother of five, has been struggling with no heating or hot water: she was eventually supplied with small electric heaters, which were not safe to use at the same time, and very costly to run. An electric shower was made available only days ago, after more than a month of no access to hot water for washing. 

Residents without cooking facilities were given two ring electric portable gadgets, but clearly these are entirely unsatisfactory for use over a period of weeks. 

The cause of the failure in the supply of gas, according to residents, was a maintenance problem, swiftly resolved. When Peabody then announced that gas would not be restored to the estate, and that residents would have to switch to electricity, there was complete confusion, and widespread anger: electricity is so much more expensive than gas, and many fear that they will not be able to cope financially. 

Offers of free cookers clearly do not address the long term issue of rising costs for people struggling on low incomes. And these residents have been placed in an intolerable situation, through no fault of their own: what can they do now? 

Why is a Housing Association being apparently so intransigent, and so determined, without consultation, to impose such a radical change on residents? Is there some unacknowledged motivation, separate to the temporary technical failure? 

There is one obvious course of action now, and that is legal challenge: and lawyers Hodge Jones & Allen have now been appointed to act on behalf of the people of Strawberry Vale, stating that they are "... seeking a court injunction compelling the housing association to restore the supply immediately or produce evidence as to why this cannot be done." The case will be heard at the Royal Courts of Justice, on March 4th.

As usual, in the continuing drama of life in Broken Barnet, there is always a hidden history, a forgotten history, lying beneath the layers of social injustice heaped upon our blighted landscape. 

And this part of the borough, this part of Finchley, is brimming with historic ironies that perhaps bear further contemplation.

Only a little further down the High Road from Strawberry Vale, as it happens, you will find one of the most affluent areas in the borough, and indeed, again, in the UK: that is to say the Bishops Avenue, lined with mansions of the most indescribable vulgarity, housing affordable only to the most exclusive list of billionaire arms manufacturers, porn barons, and overseas dictators. History has yet to reveal if these latterday capitalists will feel moved to follow in the tradition of philanthropy set by George Peabody, and donate the legacy of their own wealth to their less fortunate neighbours, on the wrong side of the tracks, at the other end of East Finchley.

Bishops Avenue is surrounded by another visionary creation, of course: Hampstead Garden Suburb, represented by three Tory councillors, including Gabriel Rozenberg, who has an interest, in a purely theoretical way, it seems, in architecture, and often tweets rather defensively about his liking for examples of 'brutalism', and the need to conserve such buildings. His views on Strawberry Vale, in the Labour held ward bordering his own, are unknown. 

It seems an appropriate indulgence for a Barnet Tory: the admiration of architecture as a political statement: the reduction of housing to a matter of theory, and control; seeing the inhabitants as secondary to the functional aestheticism of its design, as a dormitory for an obedient underclass, a factory farm of labour.


Brutalism in design, and Brutalism in policy: both are evident in Broken Barnet, of course. 

The Suburb, however, remains genteelly in the past, preserved in a moment of time, a fantasy of early twentieth century Englishness as it never was, hidden behind a barrier not of 'ugly brown bricks', but of green privet hedges. 

Its residents quiver at the sound of Capita contracted leaf blowers, and attend local residents meetings to demand instant response to their endless whingeing about the intolerable noise, or impertinent outsiders daring to park cars outside their homes. And our fawning Tory councillors leap immediately to their assistance, of course. 

Yet the Suburb was created by another pair of Victorian philanthropists, Henrietta and Samuel Barnett, in order to provide that elusive thing, now adopted with such cynical zeal by developers keen to gain approval of their proposals: a model development influenced by the idea of a 'settlement', a mixed community, with rich and poor living happily together, in their neighbouring homes, creating a well balanced society, with mutual respect and harmony. The smaller houses were meant to accommodate humble artisans, and labourers, rather than interior designers and financial advisers: a brave experiment, but a failure in social terms, however triumphant and charming the architectural legacy. 

Samuel and Henrietta Barnett

Heritage, as such, and history, are of interest in Broken Barnet only when capable of being commodified, and yielding a profit. 

Other than that, they are abstract concepts, safely separated from their human context: a building is without significance, other than to be rated according to its potential for development. 

Buildings may indeed, like the council's only museum, at Church Farmhouse, be emptied of their contents, and occupants, and put up for sale. Whole estates are given away to developers to do what they want with, regardless of the impact on the residents.


In the last few weeks we have seen local Tory MP Matthew Offord refer disparagingly - and inaccurately - to two 'sink estates' in his own constituency, implying that the architecture of such places had created 'no-go' areas, criminality, and a lack of 'aspiration' amongst its feckless inhabitants. The only solution was to do as his own local authority, Barnet - of which he was deputy leader - has done: to evict the residents, knock down their homes, and give the land for private development, from which they are excluded. 

Offord's colleagues on Barnet Council are happy to support more and more of this sort of development, in fact: housing spokesman Tom Davey openly declares his preference for homes that will attract 'Russian oligarchs', and the better off sort of resident, rather than those 'dependent' on council services. 

Local Conservative policy, prefiguring the new brutalism of Cameron's national housing strategy, has seen the loss of long term secure tenancy in social housing, and the introduction of moral judgement as a factor in the dispensation of such accommodation, with priority reserved for those who can 'prove' a 'positive contribution' to their community.

Community, in Broken Barnet, is recognised by Tory politicians only when it suits them, of course. And when it does not suit them, they look the other way. 

Offord thinks no one has a right to live in a property for the rest of their lives, especially not in social housing - and nor now does the government. There is now a deliberate campaign of demonisation of the very principle of social housing, and a new assault on the system of provision of such accommodation to those in need. 

The result is clear, here in Barnet: as the recent Labour Housing Commission so well illustrates, we are in a state of crisis: our borough is no longer capable of providing homes for ordinary families on modest incomes, and is being reinvented as a playground for luxury developers. 

As the Report tells us:

Average property prices in Barnet of nearly £500,000 are 12 times the median household income, putting buying a home out of reach of local residents, and the median private sector rent of £310 a week is not affordable for half of the households in the borough.

Homelessness is rising: in the last three years, the number of families made homeless after being evicted by private landlords has more than doubled.

The private rented sector is unregulated, and unlicensed, and the council has no idea - or interest in - how many private landlords there are in Barnet. This may or may not have any connection with the fact that many Tory councillors themselves are landlords, and may object in principle to the prospect of regulation. It should be noted that there are so many landlords amongst their ranks, in fact, that they have adopted the custom of requiring the Monitoring Officer to award them 'dispensations' so as to continue to take part in committee meetings dealing with matters relating to areas in which they have a direct and declarable interest.

There is of course a chronic shortage of social housing in this borough, and deliberately so: in 20 years, the authority has built a grand total of ... three new council houses. Ideology and greed are the driving forces behind housing policy in Barnet, not need, or social justice. There has been a net loss of 827 social homes for rent: in Grahame Park there will be a further net loss of 352 units. 

A large part of the burden of housing those in need of truly affordable accommodation has inevitably fallen, therefore, on housing associations - and now it seems that burden is becoming an unwelcome responsibility for some of those bodies, who might appear to be moving further and further away from the charitable principles of their founding mission - a fundamental loss of purpose, closer to the practices of the market, and the management of a property portfolio, rather than the provision of support for those in need. 

As the Labour housing report points out, many housing associations now are pitching rents at 'affordable', rather than social housing levels. How is that justifiable, or fair?

Residents in Strawberry Vale have expressed the feeling that they are being thrust back into the nineteenth century, struggling to retain the basic right to heating, water, and the ability to cook their own meals. An indignity which the age of Victorian philanthropy thought it would end forever, and replace with decent housing and a fair standard of living for all. 

Here in Broken Barnet, of course, the cradle of Thatcherism, and the spawning place of easycouncil mass privatisation, the merciless materialism of Tory policies has created an environment in which the humanitarian ideals and ambitions of the great philanthropic benefactors, the legacy of the great pioneers of social justice like Carnegie and Peabody can only wither and die a lingering death.

In a neat return of perhaps the ultimate historic irony, we might consider the history of the land on which the Strawberry Vale estate was built. 

Now the estate is caught tight in an infernal embrace of the thundering North Circular on one side, and the unseen presence of a million Londoners buried in the massive Victorian cemetery on the other. 

But once this was an old settlement on Finchley Common, known as Brownswell, named after some natural springs there, beside the old Green Man inn, now demolished, whose name, rather incongruously, lives on in the new Community Centre, where meals for Peabody tenants have been provided, over the last few weeks.

Octavia Hill

Living in Brownswell Cottages, in the mid nineteenth century, just yards from the estate there now, was the young pioneering social reformer Octavia Hill, whose life's work was rooted in her promotion of the idea of social housing - then an entirely new concept, and a cause to which she dedicated much of her life.

Hill believed in social care in an holistic sense, not merely in the provision of housing, but supporting the right of ordinary people to live happy, healthy lives, with space and quiet places to think, green places around them to enjoy.

What would she have made of the plight of residents in Strawberry Vale now, or any of those in need in this borough, where the very concept of social housing is under attack?

Not so preposterous, perhaps, is it, that the Red Cross should be sent in, as if to bring supplies to a war zone? 

This is a battleground, in fact, in the war on the poor, in this borough, in this city: in this nation. 

And as other acts of injustice have shown, in this borough, from the reclamation of libraries from the hands of developers, or the defiance shown by residents in West Hendon and Sweets Way: the only victories, large or small, final or temporary, are hard won, by organised opposition, and having the courage to stand up for what is right: fighting back, locally, nationally, stragetically, politically: through the courts, through the media, through direct action - but always with unity, and determined resistance.

Brian Coleman and the Rev: Private Arrangements, and A Private Function

Tea - and sympathy for his landlord: Brian Coleman entertains at Broken Barnet Town Hall

photo: Sierra Express Media


Take a look at today's Ham & High. Hurry through, no, no, ignore page two ... go to page 14, where Mrs Angry is yet again mouthing off about being filmed by MetPro, and Mr Reasonable is, well, his usual lovely, reasonable self. Oh and where Barnet Tory leader Mr Richard Cornelius tells us that, in addition to the bloggers of Barnet providing a full Pickles approved armchair audit service for him, we must now film his council meetings for him for free, with no thanks, and still no apology for his council's own secret filming of us, in order that he can 'share the workings of local democracy with the general public', because he won't pay for the sort of official filming that all respectable councils already have in place.

Not only that, but according to the Ham & High, Mrs Angry is now officially in charge of Broken Barnet, rather than Mr Cornelius, and do you know, readers, this is a heavy burden to carry. I'm not sure I can take the strain. Another trip to Champneys could be on the cards. What? Barred? Mrs Angry? Don't you know who I am?

Anyway: turn to page 2 of the Ham & High now. Oh look: 'Cllr Coleman disputes low rent claim' ... the story tells us:

'One of London's highest paid councillors has hit back at claims that he lives in cut price church housing in Finchley. Barnet Councillor Brian Coleman has lived in a flat owned by the Finchley Methodist Church for at least two decades, paying rent well below the commercial market values for the area ...'

This is of course not a new story, and last year veteran journalist and aspiring Barnet blogger David Hencke somehow acquired a copy of documents suggesting the rent may be as low as £546 a month, for a five room flat, which is, as Mrs Angry can confirm, around half the going rate in this area.

Brian Coleman has often expressed his views about those good for nothing London firefighters who dare to supplement their income by part time work: apparently these rascals are now all modelling for Armani (please send Mrs Angry a photo if you have one - for research purposes, you understand) and they are all such divas, that they will only fit in a bit of firefighting in their spare time. Brian, in contrast, has selflessly turned down many offers of work from Models 1 and Select to concentrate on the four publicly funded posts he has accrued, and which bring in total annual salary of around £130,000.

Last week you may recall Mrs Angry reported the council meeting where Brian Coleman was rolling about in trouser splitting fits of laughter while a younger Tory councillor ranted about union leaders whom he claimed lived in subsidised housing. Hmm.

The property in which Coleman lives is owned by the local Methodist Church. Brian is of course widely recognised as a devout Methodist and is, we must all agree, a truly humbling example of the Christian faith in action.

According to the Ham & High, Brian told them that the rent figure was 'incorrect' but that he did not wish to discuss his living arrangements. He refused to say how much he was paying for the flat.

The church's minister, Reverend Michael Giles, is also tight lipped about his tenant's rental agreement. He told the Ham & High that the church had a 'private arrangement' with Councillor Coleman. Reverend Giles confirmed that the Totteridge councillor paid less than other church tenants, but blamed this lower rate on the restrictions of long standing tenancy agreements and housing laws.

Finchley Methodist Church is now a registered charity. If you look at the Charities Commission website, you will be able to look at the church's details, and in theory, you might be able to look at information relating to accounts, so as, say, to establish how much income the church derives from property rentals. But, oh dear: unfortunately, according to the website, surrounded by a big red outline, we find a note stating that certain key documents are overdue: the annual return is already twenty two days late.

This is not acceptable from any charity, but for a church to be so remiss seems particularly naughty. Mrs Angry would remind the Reverend Giles of the admonition we find in Matthew, 22.21: 'Render unto Caesar the things which are Caesar's ...' and while Mrs Angry is feeling moved to reflect on matters of spirituality, she would like to draw the attention of Councillor Coleman to the words of the founding father of Methodism, John Wesley: 'When I have money, I get rid of it quickly, lest it find a way into my heart.' Or indeed, Matthew, 19.24: 'It is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter the Kingdom of God ....'

The picture above shows Brian - or His Worship the Mayor, as he was then - (no wonder he cried when he had to hand over to the new one shortly afterwards: can you imagine how he must have enjoyed being worshipped for a whole year?) - entertaining his landlord, the Reverend Giles, to a nice cup of tea at a reception in the Mayor's parlour, in April last year. This reception was held to welcome a visit by Eddie Turay, the High Commissioner of Sierra Leone. One of Brian's other guests - get a load of this - was, bizarrely, Raine, Countess Spencer, stepmother of Diana, Princess of Wales, and the daughter of the redoubtable romantic novelist Barbara Cartland.

The gentleman in the middle of the picture, incidentally, was the Reverend Emmanuel Samuel Ndanema, Senior Pastor and Founder of All Nations Pentecostal Church UK, in West Hendon, who is also CEO of Solid Rock TNV International Limited. The Reverend is to be commended for combining the duties of Christian ministry with the heavy burden of responsibility for his company which has a wide range of interests in Sierra Leone, but deals primarily with the buying, selling, and exporting of uncut diamonds, gold, and gold dust.

To be fair (yes, we must, even in Broken Barnet) to the Rev and His Worship, there is no reason to believe that they were well acquainted with this individual, but it is an unfortunate fact that Mr Ndanema's church, which has links with some interesting countries, such as the Democratic Republic of the Congo, appears, according to the Charities Commission website, to have an irregular accounting history, with accounts overdue since June 2009. Perhaps the pastor is now devoting more time to his business interests.

At the reception, we are told, the High Commissioner urged those present to visit Sierra Leone, helpfully informing the gathering that corruption and trafficking of money were now serious criminal offences in his country, which is reassuring. No doubt His Excellency was impressed on his visit by the equally high standards of probity and transparency that recent audit reports have shown to be the hall mark of the current Tory MetPro friendly administration here in Broken Barnet.