Sarah Ingham is author of The Military Covenant: its impact on civil-military relations in Britain.
A stick of rock and a kiss-me-quick hat? Or a few bottles of English sparkling wine and some artisan cheddar? One souvenir no staycationer wants to take home is gastroenteritis, brought on by the UK’s sewage-hit waterways.
Could the local and general elections next month and next year be the staycation elections? Ballots on Britain’s beaches, polls on pollution and, more widely, vacationers’ verdict on the state of the nation.
Staycations were worth an estimated £31 billion to the British economy in 2021, according to Barclays, and that figure could well increase this year.
The weakened pound, cost of living worries and last year’s chaos at Britain’s airports have made travellers wary; a GoCompare-You Gov poll found that 17 per cent of those taking part in its travel trends survey for 2023 said they were considering a holiday in the UK.
As they head to Britain’s holiday hotspots – in terms of popularity, rather than weather – staycationers often seek seaside haunts where the clock seems to have been turned back: buckets and spades, bunting and beach huts, cafés painted the same pastel colours as the home-made raspberry ripple ice cream on sale. It’s The Great British Bake Off-on-Sea, with dog bowls outside every other shop.
The staycation took off during the Cameron era, when it seemed that every summer of the Coalition, Sam’n’Dave had the obligatory photo op in a posh corner of a (usually overcast) Cornwall.
During the pandemic, the Johnson regime kept us confined to home shores, as if we were all Uncle Matthew in Nancy Mitford’s Pursuit of Love: “Abroad is unutterably bloody and foreigners are fiends.”
Forced to stay in Britain because of Covid, then choosing to stay here – perhaps because of the newly-acquired dog – staycationers are getting to know their own country; humblebrags about being more familiar with the Great Wall of China than with Hadrian’s Wall aren’t so clever when many are worried about their carbon footprint.
For holidaymakers, Britain’s beaches and waterways matter. For water companies to turn them into sewers is a literal sh*tshow, for which Conservatives will be blamed. Surfers Against Sewage accuses the Government of being “complicit” in the sewage scandal: “failing to enforce and strengthen regulations to protect the health of the UK’s waterways – and the health of its citizens.”
Little should be expected from the Environment Agency, whose six-member management team includes a former High Commissioner to India.
Meanwhile the duties of water industry regulator Ofwat include ensuring that water companies “properly carry out their statutory functions”; its quangocrat-heavy board has endorsed the mission statement “Improving Life through Water”. Hmm. “Improving Shareholders’ Returns through Water” is surely more apt.
If successive Conservative environment secretaries have been slow off the mark to realise the damaging political impact of sewage pollution, Ed Davey knows better. Last week he visited Eastbourne, not far from where raw sewage has regularly been pumped into the sea.
Camping, glamping, motorhomes, old school VW campervans, caravans… Each year, Brits hit the road for the great outdoors, willingly embracing lilliput living and the mixed blessings of chemical loos.
The Caravan and Motorhome Club claims more than one million members, while the Camping and Caravanning Club has 700,000. Members are surely more aware than most about the condition of the country’s roads: “Are Smart Motorways Safe?”, demands a podcast by Motorhome Mike.
With the shortage of emergency refuge areas, the answer is surely no, although the Highways Agency claims otherwise. But as Edmund King, president of the AA, tells Mike: “Common sense tells you if you’re breaking down and there’s nowhere to stop, you become a sitting duck.”
The National Trust’s membership of 5.4 million reflects our collective love of the countryside, gardens, and homemade cake.
But whilst the Trust is custodian of many landmarks from the Lizard to Lindisfarne, farmers manage 71 per cent of the UK’s land, says DEFRA’s Agriculture in the UK. If Britain is green and pleasant, we have farmers to thank.
Often, however, farming fails to pay its way and farmers must find alternative income. DEFRA acknowledges diversification, defining it as: “non-agricultural work of an entrepreneurial nature, on or off farm, but utilising farm resources such as running a farmhouse bed and breakfast.”
Scottish Agritourism, set up by farmers and crofters, is dedicated to growing the rural economy, not least through farm stays, which have become increasingly popular. The UK’s 1,600 farm shops generated £1.4billion a year in sales and employed 25,000 people, says the most recent research by the Farm Retail Association.
Buy some sustainably sourced veg – and get a free insight into the current plight of farming thrown in, along with a fervent “Thank you, Jeremy Clarkson.”
With an audience of 4.3million viewers, Clarkson’s Farm highlights why many farmers must diversify – but how bureaucracy can thwart their efforts. Having already run into trouble because of his farm shop, Britain’s most famous petrolhead tried to open a restaurant on his Diddly Squat Farm (annual profit: £144), only to vanquished by West Oxfordshire District Council.
With a website declaring it Stands with Ukraine (who doesn’t?), WODC’s planners showed that they would protect every inch of their backyard from the threat of the proposed eatery’s outdoor tables and parasols no less doughtily than Ukrainians defending the Donbas.
Viewers and visitors – especially those who see a caravan park close to the farm – are left baffled by the arbitrary nature of the planning system. But anyone who has previously dealt with planners probably suffered PTSD-style flashbacks about wasted time and money.
On Wednesday, Thérèse Coffey explained how Britain’s waterways would be cleaned up. ConHome readers’ comments can be summed up as “13 years – what’s taken you so long?”
The familiarity of home breeds contentment. In busy, everyday life, we’re more likely to accept and work around the cracks in the country’s creaking infrastructure.
But staycations open holidaymakers’ eyes to different corners of Britain. And from mobile phone not-spots to sewage contamination, they might be seeing too clearly the blight in Blighty.