The state of independence

Oh Lewes, how visitors surge along your cobbled streets for a spot of recreational shopping. How those visitors delight at your independent shops. And yet...

And yet those independent shops are under increasing commercial pressures, with more and more 'big name' brands appearing where a sole trader was before. Eventually every other shop will be owned by a coffee chain and the rest will sell some kind of stylish clothing for an active lifestyle. Probably an active lifestyle that involves dropping those clothes off at the dry cleaners because otherwise they'd dissolve in your washing machine.

Here in Ringmer, we don't have those problems. Not at the moment, anyway.

Unlike Lewes, we are still a true haven for independent retailers. In a single parade of shops (equipped with a paved precinct and handy points for securing a dog/bicycle) we can offer you a greengrocer and florist, a bakery, a butcher, a vet, an Indian restaurant, a fish & chip shop, a hairdresser, an off-licence and a pet supplies shop. There's also an estate agent, a bank and a convenience shop with post office but they're all parts of larger organisations so I won't count them for now. That's before you search out the pubs (two or three, depending on where you draw village boundaries), the garage and the units on the trading estates elsewhere in the village.

But the pièce de résistance is Middletons. Or, to use its full name, Middletons of Ringmer. It's a haberdashery.

If you put Mrs Middleton and her wares in a little bay-windowed shop on Lewes High Street, you wouldn't be able to move for squealing tourists taking photos of buttons and ribbons.

Mind you, the shop sells more than just sewing kit. There's also a nice line in greetings cards, some children’s toys and an assortment of advertisements on postcards in the window. Kittens for sale, lawnmower servicing, that kind of thing.

You're going to tell me that Lewes has similar needlecraft shops. I know.

But they don't quite have the charm of our local haberdasher's shop. Or the slight incongruity. Well, it's not like every village really needs one.

If I was thinking of opening a shop, I'd be estimating footfall and looking for an unexploited niche. That's just one of the reasons I'd not make a good independent shopkeeper.

The trick, it seems, is a combination of caring passionately about what you do, trying to meet every customer's desire and not giving a stuff about what anyone else thinks.

And I reckon living in a village gives you an advantage. After all, you've already chosen to stay away from the crowds.

So, as I continue to demonstrate, Lewes is a great place to visit but Ringmer is the right place to live. It demonstrates true independence and has everything you could possibly need.

Well, almost everything. If there's anything else you want, you can always knit it. I know the perfect shop to buy some wool.

First published on vivalewes.com 26th July 2012: http://vivalewes.com/

The visitors who carry a torch for Lewes

Earwig Corner – the number one insect-themed road junction on the A26 – hosted the Olympic Torch Relay on Tuesday this week.

I wandered down from my home in Ringmer and saw the entire cavalcade assemble on the edge of Lewes before it set off in two awkward half-convoys. In the midst of the police motorcycles and sponsored trucks was a lone runner clutching an eBay-ready Olympic torch.

To be honest, I was rather hoping that the assorted bonfire societies of Lewes had planned a guerrilla response in the style of Crocodile Dundee’s much-quoted knife scene. “Call that a torch parade?”, someone would shout as hundreds of paraffin-soaked wooden stakes were raised to the skies. “No, THIS is a torch parade”. A giant papier-mâché effigy of Wenlock the mascot would then be burned on the playing field behind Tesco.

Sadly, that remained a mere fantasy.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not joining the Cynical Olympiad that seems to be accompanying the 2012 games. This column isn't the place for such cynicism. It's the place where I extol the benefits of not living in Lewes while singing the town’s praises.

And Tuesday was the perfect example of Lewesians getting a bit of a raw deal while the rest of the world looked on.

Never mind the road closures. Never mind the transport disruption. Never mind some businesses wondering where on earth all the customers had gone.

No, Tuesday was all about visitors. Through a curious quirk of scheduling there weren’t even any Lewes residents carrying the torch through their home town.

Also notable was the way some of these visitors dressed. Not the torchbearers. The tourists.

It’s a curious thing but we Brits really seem to choose dramatically different clothes when we’re on holiday, even when our destination isn’t that far away and our lifestyle hasn’t changed. Suddenly we’re wearing storm-proof cagoules. Camouflage shorts. Rugged sandals. Sarongs. Just for a trip to the shops.

All were on display as the torch passed through, making the streets of Lewes look rather like a film set. Perhaps ‘Robinson Crusoe in the 25th century.’ Office managers in suits standing next to folk wearing flip-flops. Climbing boots alongside stilettos.

Yet when I come to Lewes, I'm a visitor too. Which prompts a question: is it wrong to turn up in my regular clothes when I visit Lewes?  Would it be better if I identified myself by wearing three-quarter length shorts and eating an ice cream?  Or should all tourists be forced to carry a flaming torch?

Except on 5th November, obviously.

First published on vivalewes.com 19th July 2012: http://vivalewes.com/

East of Earwig

Last week I introduced the painful (to some) and painfully obvious (to me) concept that Lewes was best enjoyed by those living outside it.

I’d now like to expand my theory.

If I drive into Lewes, I can take advantage of three hours’ free parking at Tesco. That’s plenty enough time for a spot of shopping, a coffee, an almond croissant and a wander round the antique shops looking for any bargain that John Henty has missed. Yet if I lived in Lewes I’d need to check my local Controlled Parking Zone, buy a permit and then try to find a space within walking distance of my house. Chances are I’d end up with a folding bicycle in the boot of the car.

Not that I’m driving much at the moment. You see, I sold my car a couple of months ago – and that means I’m reliant on the number 28 bus.

Public transport is perfect for we out-of-towners. I accept that Lewesians may not want double-deckers hanging around outside Waitrose, thundering up the High Street and squeezing through the bottleneck. However, the system works nicely for the rest of us.

A £3 return offers door-to-door service from Ringmer to my chosen Lewes destination. That’s the same as just 90 minutes on-street parking but without the worry that someone might knock my door mirror off as they drive past. If I’m late I simply wait until the next bus and won’t be charged £50 for the privilege of peeling a plastic-wrapped penalty ticket off my windscreen.

Better still, as part of my bus trip I can claim a free newspaper. Admittedly it’s only ever the Metro, which is rather like a cut-down Daily Mail, but it’s still a free newspaper. You’ll be surprised how long you can sit in Caffe Nero if your empty coffee cup is hidden behind the showbiz section.

My only complaint about buses is the passengers. No, not you, sir. And not you, madam. It’s the others.

The woman who alternately sings and curses for no apparent reason. The guy wearing open-backed headphones who’s listening to an atonal cymbal symphony. The child who thinks kicking the back of my seat is more entertaining than Rastamouse.

What troubles me most is where they’re from. Surely they’re not Ringmer residents heading into Lewes? They must be Lewes people going home after visiting their country cousins.

I really hope that’s the case. Because if not, I might need to find somewhere to live at the other end of the bus route.

First published on vivalewes.com 12th July 2012: http://vivalewes.com/

East of Earwig

Look, I have a confession to make. I'm not like the rest of you. I'm from the wrong side of town. In fact, I'm not from town at all. I live three miles north-east in the village of Ringmer, where only the bravest of bus drivers venture.

Here's another confession. I like it here. And I don't want to join you down there on the flood plain, thank you all the same.

Now, this is probably the point where you dismiss my introduction as the hyperbolic ramblings of an anti-Lewes troll. But you're wrong.

You see, I have a theory. Here it is.

Bridge's Lewesian theory: all the good bits of Lewes are available to me without living there.

It has a companion theory that goes like this: all the bad bits of Lewes are only really suffered by people who live there.

Let me demonstrate with the following example. Harveys beer. Wonderful stuff. But I don't need to stand by the Argos car park to enjoy a pint in the sun. I can walk to The Anchor in Ringmer and sit in the garden. (Heck, I can cross the road with my pint and watch cricket on the green as long as I take the glass back and no-one ever finds out).

Fair enough, you may say, but what about Bill's cafe? Well, my Lewes friend, there's no priority queue for residents. Waving your council tax bill doesn't get you a table any quicker. You locals suffer the gastro-tourists, I walk in for a sausage sandwich and a coffee when they've gone. Besides, given the company's recent expansion, I reckon there'll be a Ringmer branch of Bill's by 2014. (Not that we desperately need one, for we have the Jack & Jill bakery: home of the Jack & Jill bun - fruit, icing and jam combined. You won't find that in the Collison collection).

May I also point out that parking's free in Ringmer and our house prices are more affordable than yours?

People of Lewes, escape those knee-trembling hills and head for the countryside. You know it makes sense.

Just don’t come looking for me when you arrive here. You'll probably find me in Laporte's - or in Steamer Trading - or Octave music - or perhaps even visiting an estate agent. Being from the wrong side of town doesn't mean I don't have aspirations.

First published on vivalewes.com 5th July 2012: http://vivalewes.com/