Martlesham Heath Householders

The qualities of a village are notoriously hard to define. The only certainty is that the physical and social mesh of the village, that most subtle thing, is slow to evolve, slower still to dissolve.

The difference between Martlesham Heath and the next private development is that its promoters call it a village. Not a New Town, not a housing estate or neighbourhood, but clearly and distinctly a village. Their stance implies that, first, a village can be created on a green field site within perhaps 10 years and, second, that the developers themselves know what a village is. However, reading the sales brochure one finds no definition, merely an evocative quote from Crabbe: 'Thy walks are ever pleasant; every scene is rich in beauty, lively, or serene'. The Bradford Property Trust has had the wisdom to confine itself to a list of the features 'for a new kind of living': village green, pub, shops-not much new there - and 12 hamlets of assorted sizes.

If, then, Martlesham Heath is to be a village, it seems reasonable to ask 'Why?' Is it a sales ploy, a planning gambit or a more idealistic aspiration to create a place just a little bit superior to the norm? I have set this study against the background that, whether or not it is possible to create a village overnight, the process has a historic precedent stretching back for almost three centuries. Planned villages have been growing up at the gates of country mansions, around the mill and factory or out in the countryside since at least 1700. Our self-consciousness about the village is a nineteenth century phenomenon; increasingly we have romanticised both its fabric and its people to the extent that the idea of founding a village has never seemed as unreasonable, or as impossible, as it does today.

In many respects, of course, it is an impracticable notion. The cost and exigencies of planning requirements, the pressures of the market and its dogged conservatism, together with the extraordinary resilience of the buying public to existence in drab environments combine to make the idea of building a village a distinctly oddball notion. Plenty of developers have dignified the most desolate housing estates with flowery names; 'parks', 'groves' and 'villages' abound. If the notion was merely a sales ploy, a far less conscientious approach would have done quite well and a lot of expense could have been spared.

The villages created in the past were, with very few exceptions, the brainchildren of an individual. The motives for the building of an estate village were generally a mixture of aesthetics and practicality: an attractive architectural setting for house and park, offset by the advantages of a local 'tame' workforce. The industrial village was built with the motives of philanthropy and expediency, the two often inseparable. Only the 'Utopian' community-religious, political or loosely idealistic-was, sometimes, the product of a joint initiative and motives which accurately reflected the aspirations of the inhabitants themselves.

Christopher Parker, clearly the modern equivalent of squire or paternalistic industrialist in this respect, has different motives and is directed by a different kind of pressure. Above all there is his responsibility to the developer, who requires the investment to be repaid with considerable interest.

Nevertheless Parker has motives of his own-both in his unusual personal crusade for a higher standard of design (and with that, his responsibility for matters normally dealt with by the planning authority) similar to Lord Dorchester at Milton Abbas, for instance, and his own antipathy to planning dogma, the 'revolt' to which he refers above.

In respect of design and amenities Martlesham Heath does seem to aspire to standards well in advance of the usual. Yet arguably these standards are the danger; economics dictate housing aimed very largely towards a clearly defined area of the market. A village built as a speculative development brings together a random group of people; they have the resources and the need for a certain kind of housing that is their only tie. The new village community might as well have emerged from a bran tub; only the physical fabric of the place, the provision of communal facilities in particular, will determine whether these people find any incentive to mix, or whether they remain peering out from behind the curtains.

There is no doubt that Martlesham Heath is a village for the relatively affluent. It is by no stretch of the imagination a properly mixed community; no local authority housing and no housing for rent means that a sizeable social chunk is missing. When Eric Lyons and Span set up New Ash Green, the GLC commitment to provide housing (which they then reneged on) was integral to the scheme.

In this sense, despite Parker's reference to Lyons and the implication of similarities between the two schemes, Martlesham Heath is planned only on physical lines and is determined by market forces. Any attempt at social planning is rendered useless by those forces. Martlesham Heath is not comparable with the aims of local authority housing in any way-its guidelines, inevitably, are economics. It is, then, odd that Parker's first definition of a village is by social factors of 'mixed age and income groups across a wide spectrum'. Just as Henrietta Barnett's dream of Hampstead Garden Suburb, to 'buy a huge estate and build so that all classes could live in neighbourliness together', proved unworkable because of costs (and prices which escalated as the environment became pleasanter) so too Martlesham Heath, without the housing provision that could actually allow in a wider variety of people, remains well beyond the means of many.

When looking at Martlesham Heath and considering Christopher Parker's own aspirations for it, I wanted to establish whether the built form of the place has, so far, been conducive to the establishment of a sense of place-if not the sense of living in a village. Such a judgment must essentially be based on a far from complete picture; quite apart from the distortions inherent in such a brief glimpse, there are the special features of a growing community, hardly a fifth complete. The pioneering role of the first residents is an easier one to sustain in these early days-as the population edges up much of the resolution and the dynamism of the active members of the community will be diluted by sheer weight of numbers.

Nevertheless patterns are emerging; Martlesham Heath is three years old. What kind of village has emerged from Parker's pipedream?

In 1942 the Bradford Property Trust bought the Brightwell Estate, of which the aerodrome at Martlesham Heath was but a small part. In 1960 this was released by the Ministry of Defence and the first planning application for a village on the site was submitted in 1963. The place seemed to be an inspired choice. Land unfit for agricultural use, but well suited for building; excellent communications and a site equidistant from the growing port of Felixstowe and the county town of Ipswich; a scheme which fell neatly into the regional planning strategies of the time and which was wholeheartedly supported by the county planning officer. In fact by 1965 the idea of a village had given way to a town. Clifford Culpin and Partners produced a master plan for a town of 10,000 but 'the plan has been so drawn as to be capable of being the first part of a much larger scheme'. By coincidence, this was the year that Richard Crossman gave the go-ahead for New Ash Green, 'a new model village'. In view of the unhappy vicissitudes of that project in succeeding property booms and slumps, it may have been a blessing in disguise that planning tangles, hinging mainly upon the provision of roads and drainage, delayed the successful planning application for Martlesham Heath, once again a village, until 1973-almost 10 years to the month after the first one.

Land values and the cost of infrastructure, together with a perennially uncertain and mercurial housing market, are the major deterrents to the development of new settlements on a relatively small scale. It was a shrewd purchaser who sniffed out the Brightwell Estate in the middle of World War II; it was a shrewd seller who released plots to the Post Office for the construction of its Research Establishment, and to the Suffolk County Constabulary for its new Headquarters; it was a shrewd developer who leased the units on the industrial estate, first in the hangars and outbuildings of the aerodrome and then in a series of new warehouses and factories. The development of Martlesham Heath could, therefore, support a few uncertainties and marketing hiccups as well as the considerable financial commitment to a new link road, the spine road of the village itself and extension of drainage facilities, only feasible because of low original outlay.

The unusual mixture of factors where Martlesham Heath is concerned-the poor quality land, the low price at the time of sale, the location, the neat equation with regional planning policies over a lengthy period-have allowed Parker's scheme to come to fruition. It would be highly unrealistic to expect to find a similar selection of fortuitous circumstances elsewhere. It would be flying in the face of evidence-the struggles at New Ash Green and Bar Hill, even the delays and problems encountered by Parker himself-to imagine the possibility of a rash of new villages, whether developed by local authority or private initiative. There is little doubt that the way forward lies in an incremental policy-whether this be envisaged as village infilling or additional hamlets according to the existing settlement patterns.

With planning permission granted and road wrangles left behind the translation of the village into reality could begin. Of course, historically, villages grew up on, not away from, main routes; they were sited close to water, good land and sources of building materials. Martlesham Heath, very much a blasted heath of sandy soil bearing gorse, birch and scrub as natural vegetation, is the antithesis of a typical village site.

Christopher Parker's insistence that the place should bear relationship to traditional East Anglian villages becomes curious viewed against the realities of the site. Approaching from Ipswich along the main road the building type is exclusively that of the 1930s ribbon development bungalow or villa. The distinction between Kesgrave, then Martlesham (the original village of that name) is only made by the road signs. The suburbs of Ipswich overspill along the roadside, to be then emulated by the villages.

Not a glimpse of traditional materials, not a glimpse of the forms of vernacular architecture in this area can be got to key the place into its locality. Instead, taking the link road, there is a sudden heap of tiled roofs ahead. Bright colourwashes punctuate the monotone of the heath. Driving in on the spine road one passes groups of houses clustered each side of the road to the left while ahead, off to the right, is another such group. At first glimpse nothing much distinguishes one hamlet from the next; housing by now familiar enough in Essex and elsewhere by its simple forms, predictable range of materials and tight plan on the site.

The car park is by the village centre and on the green. This vast expanse ('big enough for County Cricket') is the most visible amenity and planning in the early phases concentrated on maximising it. "Unfortunately, flat as a billiard table, with no mature vegetation whatsoever, the green is not quite the visual asset it might be. In fact, in windy, winter conditions its prairie-like dimensions make it more of a liability than an asset.

Christopher Parker, who in many respects holds the traditional village mantle of squire,' decided to draw on a consortium of, originally, three architectural practices. This, he considered, would introduce the essential element of a village, its lack of uniformity. Clifford Culpin remained in charge of the master plan and designed Hamlet F [Lark Rise, Swan Close, Avocet Lane] and the neighbouring village centre-the first phase of the scheme. Peter Barefoot and Partners was landscape consultant and was given Hamlet G [Warren Lane]. Mathews Ryan was responsible for Hamlet L [Coopers Road].

Determining the exact nature of the design brief proves rather a puzzling quest. It seems to have evolved in discussion between Parker and Culpins, in acknowledged response to the 'just-published Essex Design Guide. The local authority, Suffolk Coastal District Council from 1974, found itself in the happy position of dealing with developers whose attitude to design was far more rigid than its own; in Parker's words 'a conscientious developer can exercise stronger control than any planning officer could do or dares to'. The architectural forms were to be varied within a certain range, similarly the materials. Culpins, the first to test the temperature of the water, looked long and hard at the Essex Design Guide 'and then, with some skill, put together Hamlet F/1.

Undoubtedly the best feature of its work is the relationship made between housing and the green. By pushing some of it hard up against the peripheral path and then, unexpectedly, dropping the houses back to give long front gardens, the spatial variety works to good effect. This can be clearly demonstrated by comparing the hamlet across the green, G [Warren Lane]. Here the houses are placed fair and square in their plots, sited entirely in relation to the cul-de-sac in their midst. Seen from the green they make little sense and the furthest line makes an uncomfortably bulky ridge through the hamlet, a rigid block of steep-pitched roofs which dislocates the grouping.

Hamlet L [Coopers Road], which was systematically pushed down-market and therefore consists of very spare housing indeed, has no direct benefit from the green. This being the case the housing, some of it in terraces, forms up as a street attempting to turn its back on the omnipresent PO Research Establishment tower, a rather menacing Big Brother for a country village. There is a slight curve in the street and the hamlet is quite cohesive- despite the ugliest garages in any of the hamlets.

As the showpiece phase of the village Culpin's original sector of Hamlet F [Lark Rise, Swan Close, Avocet Lane] seems to have been constructed on the maxim 'nothing but the best'. It had a generous range of high quality materials at its disposal and also a much greater range of house types was tolerated here than elsewhere. This included blocks of flats and maisonettes-one of the few ingredients for the kind of mix that was hoped for and, it might seem, not wholeheartedly planned for. The older people and single individuals living in these three-storey blocks on the green dilute the preponderance of young married couples with small children-they are, in the words of the secretary of the Neighbourhood Association, 'the saviours' of the community.

With its relatively large scheme, Culpin's aimed at variety and occasional eye-catchers, what Philip Vallis terms 'oddities'-for example a steep pitched little detached house, one of which is glimpsed down an alley under a bridge linking two houses. Bricks of many hues, rendered colour washed walling and varied roof tiling all contribute to the village scheme. Such juggling, both in siting and finishes, produces an often jumpy overall effect; it tends to the self-conscious (and, in particular, modern pargetting is an aberration) but from time to time the efforts tell and are justifiable.

Later on the expensive materials, the walls and fencing, disappear-even on the more expensive sites. On Hamlet E [Manor Road], now under construction, a local firm (Hoopers) have produced a, range of somewhat sickly colour washed houses (no rendering here) at relatively low cost. Unable to resist 'vernacularising' its minimal designs a rash of crinkly barge boards has broken out-even over the blank gable of the double porch. Parker's iron-clad design standards seem to have suffered by the variety of architects involved; the second phase of Culpin's Hamlet F/2, enclosing the end of the green is proof of the superior expertise of that practice within this area. With much more limited materials the effect is still assured. In the village as a whole-the architectural diversity hoped for has tended to mediocrity-the lines are already too firmly drawn.

Inevitably price has determined more than the simple question of materials and finish. It also determines location-it is noticeable that Hamlet L [Coopers Road] finds itself furthest from the village green, closest to the threatening form of the PO Research Establishment tower and closest to the link road running through the site. Developers know well that people pay high prices for location-it is a factor which comes well ahead of their concern with tile colours or wall finishes. Similarly the lowest end of the price scale determines somewhat meagre garden areas; despite the considerable open spaces in the village, garden plots constitute an extravagance which can only be, recompensed by grading them according to house prices. Given the importance of the overall environment in a scheme such as this, the architects working in the cheapest sector are constrained by this aspect-nothing makes a simple house look meaner than inadequate surrounding space.

The physical fabric of the village, its various hamlets, its similarly 'traditional' pub and shopping centre are largely unremarkable. In the vein of Bowthorpe, South Woodham Ferrers and the better 'design guide' developments it offers little new. The plan is predictable, the landscaping minimal, the-setting drab.

Returning to the basic assumptions of Parker and the guidelines provided for his design team, the aspirations seem to consist of raising the common denominator-just as the better design guides intend and sometimes succeed in doing. It is, at the end of the 1970s, less easy to be excited.by this ultimately reasonable standard of taste and, in any case, palates are getting jaded. A question which remains rhetorical is whether Parker's ideals in design and in spatial organisation within the village would have remained constant independent of the market. Design guide schemes have proved very saleable-all over East Anglia one can see proof of that fact. Martlesham Heath, its promoters making no secret of their dependence upon the whims of the market for changes of direction and prevailing choice of housing type is, by now, planned more by these factors than according to the wider aspects that a wish for a proper social balance might have dictated.

What then is the evidence of a village? Martlesham Consultants, the management company which transfers shares from Bradford Property Trust to the residents as each house is completed, is nominally the governing body of the village-yet it remains for the moment dominated by the developers. Once it becomes 50 per cent (and more) representative of the residents a turning point will have been reached. The maintenance of the communal open spaces, in particular the green, lies with this body. It has the responsibility of employing two handymen/gardeners and the system, increasingly common in such private developments, prevents the depressing spectacle of uncared-for public areas which are so much the rule in badly managed public housing estates. Individual financial contributions are minimal and the onus is spread.

In fact the increasing involvement of the people of the village (as opposed to the developers) with the care and development of their surroundings seems part of a growing-up process; the kind of mechanism for casting off authority that the founders of the paternalistic villages such as Saltaire and Port Sunlight (two of Bradford Property Trust's own present concerns) were never able, or willing, to build into their creations. The village has a Neighbourhood Association, just a year old, formed to provide an effective voice for residents' concerns. There is also an active Social Club, a Mother and Toddler group, seven residents stood in the recent parish council elections, a pub is under construction for Tolly Cobbold, a small pavilion to serve as a social centre is also under construction, with some of the work being carried out by Heath residents themselves and cricket is being played on the green. Does all or any of this add up to proof of a self-contained .community, with a sense of identity?

Perhaps the recent dissents over one issue illustrate that most clearly. The village was split on its attitude to existing parish boundaries and 60 per cent of those who voted wanted a change, to emphasise the identity of the new Martlesham. The village, now nearing two hundred households, clearly does not, either physically or historically, see itself connected to the village on the main road. Buyers of the housing (1975 prices between £9000 and £30 000: 1979 middle range housing in the area of £25 000) have paid over the odds for the amenities, the careful design supervision and the other claims made for the development. They have, it might be said, 'bought' the concept of a new village. Sales literature, sign boards and the publicity all suggest that this is somewhere .special. In the words of one resident 'everyone is bending over backwards to create the village environment'; yet essentially the residents, mostly from towns and with the scantest idea of what traditional village life really adds up to, are busy trying to make a recognisable place. As Alan Willis of the Neighbourhood Association points out, it is not really a village if everyone refers to 'Martlesham Heath Village'-no one refers to 'Lavenham Village'. Playing games with words has little to do with the gelling of this particular' community.

Martlesham Heath is no one's idea of a traditional East Anglian village. It is in the wrong place, the rough edges rubbed out of the design, with hamlets of different housing types strategically positioned around the village green which will never see an animal grazing. The more one considers the-differences between model and copy the more preposterous the idea becomes. But-that does not rule out the aim of building a place out of which it is hoped a sense of identity, a community of interests, will emerge. For the moment the divisions in the place are brought about by housing types and thus income levels. Hamlet L [Coopers Road], up to now the only possible route into the village for first-time buyers is, both physically and socially, a little apart. Hamlet F [Lark Rise, Swan Close, Avocet Lane], on the other hand, with a wider range of housing types has formed much the most cohesive community.

The scheme as it is planned, responding to a burgeoning market and overwhelming demand, seems devised less in favour of a balanced village community than of exploiting the financial good cheer of the present. Hamlet H [Forest Lane] consists of plots for sale with design guidance from Peter Barefoot and a considerable advantage in terms of existing mature landscape. The first 14 plots offered disappeared overnight. Other phases with, planning permission include Hamlet B [Westland] (Mathews Ryan, whose L/2 was 'a bit up-market' of L/1); C [Carlford Close] (under construction, Culpin again); and F/3. As the report to the directors of The Bradford Property Trust put it at the end of the financial year 78-9 'the Martlesham concept has been established, found to be acceptable, and in current markets is profitable'.

Although sites have been earmarked for a housing association scheme, for single 'working person' accommodation for 41 and for a sheltered housing scheme for 40 to 60 elderly people there is no provision for rented accommodation ('plenty of demand, no encouragement') nor is there any likelihood of a limited amount of local authority housing. Parker says a firm 'no' to that possibility, though an officer from the district council referred to a scheme for 150 units within the village as 'a nice thought' since they have almost no waiting list at present. So Martlesham Heath is to some extent a concept well tailored to sales. The embarrassingly fey names (Lark Rise, Farrier's Close) are part of that ploy and it is tempting to dismiss the whole venture then and there.

Yet the property interests of The Bradford Trust are somewhat out of the ordinary. Its holdings include a number of the early Co-Partnership schemes at Letchworth, Brentham Garden Village in Ealing and in Liverpool, as well as large amounts of workers' housing such as the model villages of Port Sunlight and Saltaire already mentioned. Modernising and selling off these houses, the firm has traditionally been immersed in communities of unusual cohesiveness. Parker's personal obsession with the making of a village is something of an historic continuation of the thread to which all these places belong-the establishment of clearly defined settlements rather than the amorphous process of suburban development.

With Martlesham Heath now well into the first stage of its existence, the overseeing, omniscient presence of Christopher Parker is somewhat irksome to the owners of these expensive properties. His creation is growing up, becoming independent, from time to time quarrelsome, and less inclined to listen to advice. Yet this intermittent friction is further evidence of the measure of success of the original aspirations. The residents of a suburban cul-de-sac would not evidence such strong concern about the direction their neighbourhood was taking, unless the issues concerned the colour of their own front doors or the form of their garden fencing.

Christopher Parker likes to think that 'village is an adjective, not a noun'. He admits it is impossible to adequately define what he, or anyone else, considers to be a village; 'it's the way you see it'. His objective was to prove that the typical post-war estate was not the only potential form in which to provide housing; he wanted to employ good architects, he wanted to take trouble, he wanted to induce a sense of identity into the end result. There is undoubtedly an element of idealism in this, especially when matched to hard-nosed financial development, not supported by subsidy or short-cuts. Prices have undermined some of the original intentions. Under no circumstances could Martlesham be defined as a village with people of widely varying social backgrounds, but then many 'traditional' villages have long ceased to represent wide social differences. Everyone at Martlesham is an owner-occupier and this bundles everyone into a single economic bracket, however big a bracket.

With no permitted development rights and a string of 27 covenants on the housing, the form of the village seems inviolate; even after Parker ceases to exercise his function as squire. Whether the place could absorb expansion while retaining the intended plan above the limit of 1000 houses seems unlikely.

Its future, therefore, seems set. A tasteful, prosperous, one-off enclave, but a place of distinctive and original character. It is clearly evolving into a distinct entity; quite possibly into a village.