The North's biggest assets are not its big cities - they're its problem

Most analyses of England's "North" start and finish with industrial decline and the ever-deepening divide between North and South. I fear that our analyses suffer from a fatal flaw in that they focus on the idea that the future for The North lies in those former beating hearts of industrial England and especially the transpennine cities - Liverpool, Manchester, Leeds, Sheffield.

The result of this analysis is a false imaging of The North as a peculiarly working-class place - once of flat caps, whippets and tea from chipped pint mugs while sitting on a box at the allotment, now of urban wasteland, sportswear, obesity and despair. Here's Phillip Blond concluding his analysis:

The more that the North escapes its working-class monoculture by bringing back the people who left, the more the working classes will benefit, because a diverse social mix is exactly what will create opportunities for the young people currently and cruelly being left behind.

Now I live in The North, in a lovely village an hour from Manchester and 20 minutes from Leeds and Bradford. It's a short drive to Skipton and beyond to the Yorkshire Dales. I simply don't recognise Phillip Blond's caricature of Northern culture or believe that this is the reason why people leave The North. You need to have a spectacularly narrow view of The North to say this:

The North has to become deeply attractive to the people it needs to bolster its technical, entrepreneurial and educational reach. And culture in its broadest sense is the pull for such people, as it is what makes a place worth living in. But educated families and skilled people won’t remain in, or relocate to, the North unless it has the institutions and culture they expect to enjoy.

And then to suggest that the reluctant move of a bit of Channel 4 to somewhere outside London is how you resolve this void. It all reads like "there's nothing do do in The North", it's a cultural wasteland dominated by Blond's conception of a "working-class monoculture" stretching from Sheffield to Carlisle. And, of course, working-class people don't have the sort of culture that would appeal to Jeremy and Jocasta!

This concentration on the city and failed urban places is, I think, where our analyses of The North go wrong. Airedale, where I live, is doing OK - not brilliantly but pretty well. It has decent enough schools, work ranging from traditional manufacturing through to modern financial services and tech business. And it's a short train ride into Leeds or Bradford. What it isn't is some sort of modish caricature of "working-class monoculture", quite the reverse, it's increasingly full of regular middle-class folk not so very different from those in Cheam or Epping. We'd welcome Channel 4 in Bingley - it might become a little less achingly leftist - but we don't need it because we lack culture.

A decade ago we drew up an Airedale Masterplan and Strategy, an ambitious vision of the valley and its communities. At the heart of this vision was the idea that we'd been ignoring our biggest asset for 100 years - the hills, moors and woods that dominate every vista. It's this realisation that changed how we saw our place and, on a larger scale, it's what The North should do. Forget about that "working class monoculture" for a minute and ask whether The North's biggest asset is is countryside, its market towns, its villages and its hills? When we talk about the Northern Powerhouse it's about how fast we can get from Liverpool to Manchester to Leeds, how these cities should be "economic hubs", and how we should throw money into universities, inclusive growth strategies and strategic rail systems. But this is how every struggling region, every challenged city, talks - from the US mid-west, to the Po Valley and Naples. With the same results - no change followed by another strategy, another place marketing campaign, another complaint about the lack of investment.

Perhaps The North should turn itself round, face away from its inner urban places and look instead at those hills, rivers, coastlines, lakes and forests. When rich tourists talk about Tuscany, they don't talk about Livorno with its high unemployment, declining industry (and probably an Italian version of a working-class monoculture), they talk about Siena, Chianti and San Gimignano. Maybe, when we talk of The North, we should stop trying to pretend it's any more working-class than say Crawley, Harlow or Sittingbourne, and instead point out that with York, Ripon, Whitby, Durham and the Lake District, we have a cornucopia of fantastic heritage and culture as good as anywhere in Europe.

I realise that this doesn't get rid of the issues that many places face - lack of good infrastructure, poor schools and something of an image problem - but it would shift the narrative from "please Mr London but something in our begging bowl" to "Hey you southerners get a slice of what we've got - and check out these house prices". Our biggest assets are not the big cities, they're our problem.

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Why we probably won't be moving to Kensington

So Kathryn and I are window shopping in South Kensington and, since this is the nature of high streets, we're peering through the glass at property for sale. Unlike most normal places, there aren't any actual houses for sale, just what seem to be identikit flats - some studio, some one-bed, some two-bed. All with white walls, wood (or wood-a-like) flooring, glass dining tables, uncomfortable looking sofas, and, if you're lucky, some singularly naff art. Plus a price tag north of £2 million quid.

What struck us (other than that stratospheric price tag) was the sameness, the lack of soul, the impression that no-one actually lived in any of these flats. But this isn't new build, these are apartments hacked out from a beautiful Georgian town house in a leafy London square. We meandered from estate agent to estate agent seeking out some property that looked like it was a little bit loved - perhaps with a rug to break up the monotony of wood-effect flooring (whatever happened to carpet), maybe something wooden like a coffee table or an antique chair.

Perhaps this sort of uninspired, bland and plain decor is what passes for style these days down in South Kensington. Maybe people are too busy doing all the other exciting things London offers (or else working all hours god sends to pay the mortgage on the £3 million pad off Queensgate). Or maybe this is what estate agents think sells flats - hard edges, pushed back furniture, minimal colour and devoid of life. None of those things we'd expect elsewhere - a peep of greenery, a bookcase (with books on), a mish-mash of art on the wall, things that show off or feature the age of the property.

Or maybe the sort of besuited, hard-nosed, driven men who work in South Kensington's estate agencies know their market and that anything looking like life, community and continuity will put off the sort of international whizz-kids who've got the brass to buy that South Kensington flat.

Had we a few million spare, we'd certainly consider a bolthole in London - it's a fantastic city. But I'm not sure that what we see in Kensington - and it's probably little different anywhere in Zone One - is inspiring, interesting or presented in a way that appeals. The housing is gorgeous - London's Georgian terraces are among the wonders of the world - but the flats hacked out of those gorgeous buildings seem to have killed the sense of age, heritage and tradition preferring instead a boring, pale, hard image that owes more to the international hotel than a real London living style.

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The Government's wine and the Lord Mayor's Car - image, entertainment and the taxpayer's cash

A year or two ago Bradford Council replaced the Lord Mayor’s car. At the time there was a little debate – not about whether the Lord Mayor should have a car but which car. The Greens wanted the council to replace it with a Toyota Prius limo as part of Bradford’s contribution to saving the planet. In another camp were those of us who took the view that Bradford’s first citizen should ride in a rather better vehicle.

As a result on this debate, the council’s officers went out and bought a BMW which means the Lord Mayor rides around in a grey beemer more suited to the sales director of a mid-sized textile company (if we had any left). The argument was that this vehicle best suited the brief – it was a good price, would hold its value well, had a lower carbon footprint and was economical to run.

It still seems to me that, if we are to have a ‘first citizen’ (perhaps a debate for another time), then people expect him to be splendid – all the rigmarole, the silly hat, the ermine trimmed robes, the fancy car, the chain of office and the big mace are essential to the point and purpose of the role. The Lord Mayor isn’t Cllr Peter Hill but a personification of the city and its people.

But I appreciate that others take a more prosaic view of such indulgence – especially in these straightened times. After all this is taxpayers money and why should the taxes from some bloke with an eight year old Ford Mondeo and a mortgage he can barely afford be used for such luxury and indulgence?

Which, of course, brings us to the matter of entertainment and its necessary accompaniment – wine. Former cabinet office minister, Tom Watson, is in a right froth about the government’s wine cellar:

“Every three months or so, a small group of former civil servants dip into the cellar to see if the burgundies are ready for ministers to entertain their foreign guests at sumptuous banquets at Lancaster House. The coalition government says we are all in this together. A one-litre Merlot wine box at Asda costs £10. They know what they have to do. They should sell the government wine cellar."

Now I see Tom’s point (although it worries me that former senior ministers can’t make out the difference between capital and revenue costs – or between accruing investments and costs) but wonder whether taking this action might prove a false economy? The point is whether it’s right to spend those taxes on fine wine (and presumably on the excellent grub) served to visiting dignitaries. Personally I think it right – if we accept the need to entertain those who visit, then it is right to give them a decent glass of red wine. Giving then some hideous boxed merlot would be an insult (and it says a fair amount about Tom Watson’s tastes, I guess).

So don’t sell off the cellar but make it more transparent. Look to exploit the influence of government to get gifts. And, above all get some wine that isn’t bloody French – a few SuperTuscans, some top Spanish vintages and a few of the wonderful new world wines. Oh, and here’s a radical suggestion – with the right dinner serve Taylor’s Landlord or Thatcher’s cider. Let’s take this chance to promote great English produce rather than feeding Frenchmen with French food and wine.

Treating the nation’s guests well is a proper role of government – just as it is proper that Bradford’s Lord Mayor looks the part. I guess we could offer a bag of chips and a can of lager or drive the Mayor round in an old Transit van but I’m not sure that’s what taxpayers want either.

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Perception...

How we perceive places is often set by what we first encounter. This photograph was taken outside The Grange Club & Community Centre in Pontefract. I guess it's not the first image that springs to mind when thinking of that former mining town.

Rather reminded me that what we think of a place is often guided by what others choose to present to us - good and bad. So Bradford is a riot-ridden city of beards and burkas, Liverpool is a place full of robbing scallies and Pontefract is populated by unhealthy, broken ex-miners.

Just goes to show how wrong we can be and how we should treat media bias (and especially the media's portrayal of the North of England) with contumely.

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