Not Coining It
ANNIE LAWSON
Five years ago, I was living near Hebden Bridge. There had been a gang of counterfeiters in the village in the 1760’s, known as The Coiners. Now I wonder, would the local council, Hebden Royd, have granted planning permission for a Jolly Coiners theme park? Perhaps along the lines of that planned for the old Debenhams building in Hastings with immersive experiences such as a Smugglers’ Cave and a Pirate-themed restaurant? This enterprise was supposed to give a sense of pride and employment to the local community, but so far it has provided neither, in fact it is now closed, as “any fule” might have predicted.
What’s with the pneumatic planning concepts so prevalent in seaside towns? It would never have happened in inland Hebden. What – an ersatz Coiners Lair made of fibreglass on the Burnley Road? The plan would have been laughed out of the council meeting. But it seems that seaside towns have an obligation to be daft, because the British coast was where poor factory workers went on their annual holidays. But can’t we leave that behind us now? And isn’t Magaluf with its ‘Katmandu Park’ the place of silliness now anyway?
Then there’s the issue of othering and demonising people of the past such as counterfeiters and smugglers. The Coiners were bottom-of-the-food-chain woollen worsted workers facing starvation after the Seven Years War (1756-1763) when the demand for military uniforms plummeted. The sensibility of Hebden Royd Council might be that it wouldn’t be nice to make fun of them, just as it wouldn’t be nice to build a gang of fibreglass slaves in Liverpool, or a coven of fibreglass witches, all glowing at the stake, on Pendle Hill. Granted, Ruxley’s smuggling crew are reputed to have been out-and-out villains, and going to the seaside is a prime excuse to kick someone up the bum, as all inhibitions are off.
Whether people enjoyed New Debenhams enough to go again or tell their friends that it was good, encouraging more to visit, is in question. It was £8 to get in, which included a reportedly ace bowling alley, a hole to put your finger in to feel the temperature of the water around the Titanic, and some gizmo that you sniffed, to give you “the smell of Outer Space”.
Meanwhile, the social temperature around the building remained the usual Robertson Street tepid-to-icy, with people shuffling past who couldn’t even afford the smell of a square meal, let alone the odour of Outer Space. They might have had the distinct impression that someone was having a laugh at their expense, considering the large amount of public money that was poured into it. Why couldn’t it have been turned into an indoor market? That would have been kind and reasonable.
If Tory values persist, kind and reasonable ideas will continue to be sidelined, but the opposite should be the case. Otherwise everyone sinks.
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