Last word
Rab McNeil
rabmcneil@holyrood.com
Open and hut case I’M NOT really an excitable sort of chap. A
succulent pie, perchance an episode of the TV series Firefly, these can set my heart racing, or at least dawdling a little bit faster. But one morning, reading my Herald
newspaper, I came across an article that had me whooping and running around the room in an impromptu Native American- style dance. Joy was almost unconfined. A cracking sound, like fissures might make in granite, erupted as the beginnings of a smile – a phenomenon unknown since 2002 – threatened to engulf my face. What caused this rare rapture, this
jouissance, this jocundity? I will tell you (as is only fair). In a word: huts. You are spluttering. Someone has spat out their dentures (upper set). A woman in tones of Lady Bracknell has snorted in disappointed disbelief: “Huts?” Yes, madam: huts. Huts, huts, huts, huts,
huts. One thousand of them no less. An environmental charity has called for that many to be built in the nation’s woods over the next five years. I haven’t seen much about how they plan this. Indeed, they seem to be appealing for ideas. But at least they – Reforesting Scotland – have started the ball rolling. When they say huts, they do not mean toolsheds or gathering places for workmen. Tey mean huts as places in which to live at weekends, or longer, to escape the city and get closer to yonder nature. I’ve been banging on about this for years, writing with impassioned envy of the hytte of the Norskie and the dacha of the Russkie, and asking why we cannot have the same. True, we Scots are not as other men, being helplessly dependent on Big People elsewhere making decisions for us. But we can do huts. Surely, we can do huts. Wasn’t that in the devolution settlement? London: defence, economy, tax, foreign affairs. Edinburgh: fruit, fags, neds, huts. Well, maybe not. But huts must be in our
constitutional purview. As I understand it – which isn’t to say I do understand it – the difficulty is not so much in erecting the huts as in acquiring the land to put them
“London: defence, economy, tax, foreign
affairs. Edinburgh: fruit, fags, neds, huts”
on. Despite community buyouts and other enlightened reforms of recent years, land ownership in Scotland remains iniquitous to a medieval degree. But where there’s a will there’s a way, and
wouldn’t it be wonderful if this vision could come true? Oh, for a hut in the woods, preferably with a power-shower and satellite dish. But, even without these, the idea that one can always have at the back of one’s mind a safe haven, away from it all, is an enticing one. Swedes, Finns, Canadians, Czechs and
Danes are among the civilised peoples already living that dream and, while they run the risk of abuse from Labour leader Iain Gray for being an inspiration to Scots, they’re a shining example to the rest of us in the dull, grey north of Britain. Tese foreign johnnies have hideaways deep in the woods, where they commune with nature and breathe fresh air. We have Butlins. Tere are the huts of Carbeth, of course,
which most of us have heard of only through headlines about determined efforts to knock
them down and evict the hutters. Tus Scotia. Among those trying to change things is
admirable land rights campaigner Andy Wightman, who told the Herald: “Over most of Europe, there is a long tradition of folk having huts in the countryside. It is widely recognised that such rural escapes provide benefits for physical and mental wellbeing. “In Scotland, by contrast, hut-owners
continue to face eviction, have few legal rights and have been forgotten about by policy makers.” He called for land and planning laws to be
reformed so that citizens might enjoy “the freedom and simple pleasures of a hut”. And what do we say to that, readers?Tat’s right. We say: “Yay!” Such huts will be a particular boon to the
poetic soul and poor of wallet, who could never afford a second home, or even a rented holiday cottage at the loony prices charged. I’m not sure if the plan is to “own” your own hut or rent it on a time-share basis. But such details can be thrashed out once
we’ve imprisoned all the medieval landowners and confiscated their estates. Tat’s not the way forward? Damn! I’ve already bought a pitchfork from John Lewis. So, what do we do? Well, there’s Forestry Commission land. Isn’t that technically owned by we, the people? Lesley Riddoch is a leading person and
she, too, is backing the huts campaign. A big Scandophile, she says we need to learn from Norway, where citizens leave the city and stravaig the ford-lapped mountains before taking off their delightful pullovers and bedding down for the night in their hytte. Tat could be us, even with shellsuits instead
of delightful pullovers. We’re so far behind in Scotland in so many ways, though things are changing as we start shaping policy to suit our own needs. It was William Wallace who uttered the immortal word: “Freedom!” If they’d just have given him another few seconds before burning his entrails, he might have added: “Huts!”
Since last time... had one night’s holiday in a Livingston hotel … have realised that DVD box-sets are the best thing since sliced bakery products … have signed up to AA – Amazon Anonymous, for those who can’t stop buying from the ever- tempting website.
78 Holyrood 27 June 2011
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