By: The Economist
April 3, 2021
Michael finn, the design director of Barratt Developments, Britain’s biggest home builder, does not like the term “estates”. It sounds “very 1960s and very concrete”, he says. “We build places.” That is not the only change. Barratt homes come with more storage space than they used to, he explains, as people simply own more stuff. They are fitted with heating systems controlled by a mobile phone and lots of plug sockets for gadgets. Kitchens with serving-hatches are long gone; now families cook in an open-plan room, with French doors leading to the garden. On a Sunday afternoon the cul-de-sacs of Pegswood, a village that is home to one such “place”, are filled with children playing. The back gardens contain trampolines and football nets; the garages contain gyms; the driveways contain Kia Sportages, Nissan Qashqais and other mid-range suvs.
Political safarists seeking to understand Boris Johnson’s government often head to Blyth in Northumberland, ten miles from Pegswood. In December 2019 the town voted Conservative for the first time since the 1930s. Boris Johnson flipped four dozen more seats across Wales, the Midlands and the north of England, granting him a big majority and unbuckling the Labour Party from its former heartlands. The so-called “Red Wall” they comprise has become a synonym for towns fallen on hard times and a working class “left behind” by a metropolitan elite, personified by Labour’s Jeremy Corbyn and anti-Brexit warriors