Parish Council Meeting, Monday 9th September 2024

Councillors in attendance: Stoneman, Kemp, Mitchell, Ward, Pinnick, and Jackson

Apologies received: Councillor Cooper, and District Councillor Holloway

The session commenced at 18:45, infused with the dynamic energy from the Village Hall project presentation. With the initial six agenda items (September Agenda) already addressed in the prior session, the meeting progressed with a lively exchange of updates from our District and County Councillors. Their reports ignited a series of engaging discussions, marked by nods of agreement and thoughtful contemplation among the attendees. It was a vivid display of community engagement, where each contribution enriched the collective dialogue, illustrating the active participation that characterises our local governance. The conversation was far from over; it was evolving, with each point leading seamlessly into the next.

In the ever-evolving conversation of our local governance, the latest dispatch from our County Councillor painted a picture of patient anticipation. The fate of the Incinerator and the Home and Waste Recycling Centre hangs in the doldrums, with no fresh revelations to quench the community’s thirst for clarity. Meanwhile, the wheels of progress turn slowly as a missive seeking financial backing for the Mickledale Lane / A614 junction enhancements lies in wait at the desk of the Secretary of State for Transport. This tableau of civic engagement, devoid of immediate resolutions, reflects the intricate dance of public service and infrastructure development.

Amid our mundane meeting, the sudden entrance of a woman, her skin pale as moonlight, with a canine companion wrapped within her dressing gown, sparked a ripple of surprise. She voiced her grievances regarding the parking situation on Scarborough Road with a fervour that disrupted the day’s agenda. The Chair, caught off guard yet maintaining composure, reminded the assembly that the road was indeed public, a shared space where vehicles could rest if they did not hinder the flow of life. The woman’s concern, however, was not dismissed; the community officer pledged to explore the possibility of designating a disabled parking spot, a small beacon of hope for accessibility and inclusion.

The conversation then took a turn, weaving through the intricacies of local governance and the collective responsibility towards equitable urban planning. Voices rose and fell, a symphony of civic engagement, as residents and officials alike deliberated over the fabric of their shared streets. The woman’s plea had ignited a broader discourse on the rights of passage, the silent language of painted lines and signage that dictate the rhythm of daily commutes.

As the dialogue unfolded, the room became a microcosm of society’s larger challenges—balancing individual needs with communal harmony, the dance of democracy in action. The dog, a silent observer, seemed to embody the patience and loyalty required in the pursuit of change. It was a moment that transcended the ordinary, a confluence of human and animal, personal strife and public policy, all converging on the tarmac stage of Scarborough Road.

No definitive resolution graced the gathering that day, but the seeds of progress were sown. Ideas took root, nurtured by the collective will to foster a more inclusive community.

The Parish Council, in a fresh move, has decided to conduct an auditory assessment in the vicinity of Crompton Road Skate Park. This initiative is a response to the community’s voiced concerns over the decibel levels that rise and fall with the ebb and flow of skaters and spectators. The survey aims to capture the essence of the soundscape, mapping out the acoustic footprint to understand better how the park’s vibrant energy interacts with the surrounding neighbourhood. It is a step towards harmonising the area’s dynamic youth culture with the tranquil expectations of its residents, ensuring that every kickflip and grind is a sound not of disturbance, but of life being lived to its fullest.

In the latest district update, which arrived in written form due to the Councillor’s absence, there’s chatter about ramping up the signage to make the one-way system around The Crescent clear. It seems some drivers are still hitting the road with a bit of a blind spot when it comes to this rule. Just the other day, I had to play traffic police officer when a driver zoomed out of Tesco, oblivious to the one-way. The driver was miffed, almost offended, that I pointed out the error. They claimed ignorance of the one-way system, but honestly, it is a bit alarming to think they are behind the wheel, isn’t it? It is high time for some fresh signs to spell it out, even with some snazzy LEDs or something. That way, even the most absent-minded drivers might think twice before going against the flow. It is not just about following rules; it is about keeping everyone on the road safe. So, here is hoping those new signs pop up sooner rather than later and bring a bit of order to The Crescent.

The Wycar’s site, long a subject of local debate, is in the spotlight once more as the security barriers have collapsed, sparking fresh discussions. Landowners are now in talks to trim back the hedgerows bordering Kirtlington Road, a move that promises to reclaim the footpath for public use. Meanwhile, our District Councillor and her partner persist in their quest to beautify the village, their ongoing litter-picking crusade bringing a tangible improvement to the community’s ambiance. These efforts reflect a growing trend towards civic responsibility and environmental stewardship, a testament to the power of resolute individuals in effecting positive change. The transformation of the Wycar’s site and the revitalisation of the footpath not only enhance the practicality of local infrastructure but also symbolize the community’s resilience and commitment to progress. As the village evolves, these actions serve as a reminder of the importance of maintaining and improving our shared spaces for the benefit of all.

In a dynamic exchange, the floor was given to the public gallery by the Chair, sparking a series of inquiries from the engaged audience. The PC, in a move to maintain transparency, decided to uphold the tradition of fielding public questions in their designated slot. Additionally, they introduced a concise, ten-minute recap segment to conclude the session, ensuring that any latecomers or those stepping out could stay informed. This summary is set to occur prior to any private council deliberations, contingent on the meeting’s timeline. The new format is to be trialled for six-months. The decision underscores the council’s commitment to inclusivity and open dialogue, while also streamlining the process to accommodate the practicalities of time management. This approach reflects a modern, agile mindset, adapting long-standing procedures to the fast-paced nature of today’s civic engagement. It is a balancing act between honouring the public’s voice and respecting the procedural constraints, all within the framework of contemporary communication norms.

The first question from the public gallery was about The Crescent’s bustling shopping district, and the winter safety of its footpaths. The Parish Council, attuned to the community’s pulse, and stepped up to the challenges presented agreed steps to address these concerns. Recognising the importance of pedestrian safety and the potential hazards posed by icy conditions, the council has decided to consult with Via, the local infrastructure services provider, for a cost-effective solution. This gumption reflects a broader commitment to ensuring that the arteries of daily commerce and social interaction remain open and accessible, regardless of the season’s chill. By prioritising the well-being of residents and visitors alike, the council demonstrates a modern, responsive approach to civic management. The move to engage Via also underscores a collaborative spirit, tapping into established expertise to enhance public services. As discussions progress, the community awaits a resolution that balances fiscal prudence with the imperative of safe, navigable walkways.

Litter picks in the area have turned up an alarming trend: a spike in discarded Nitrous Oxide canisters. These are not your run-of-the-mill whipped cream chargers; we are talking about the hefty 640g commercial-grade tanks. They are popping up like unwanted weeds in specific spots: tucked away behind the Miners Welfare, scattered around The Fisheries, and strewn across the field facing the football stadium, right where the bivouacs huddle. The PC suggested taking this issue up with NSDC, hoping to nip this environmental and safety concern in the bud. It is a snapshot of a growing problem, one that mirrors the challenges communities face in balancing leisure and lawfulness.

Bike Night at the Copper Beech has become a hot topic, sparking debates about the ripple effect of parking pandemonium it triggers. Picture this: a fleet of motorcycles, chrome glinting under streetlights, riders buzzing with camaraderie, but the other side? A tangle of bikes spilling into serene residential lanes off Kirtlington Road. The Parish Council (PC) is not blind to the pub’s hustle to herd this metallic chaos, yet their pleas for intervention hit wall after wall. The authority’s shrug: no parking laws are being bent in those streets, and while the Highway Code frowns on sidewalk squatters, it is not a flat-out ‘no’ unless signs say otherwise. It is a classic catch-22, where the letter of the law meets the spirit of community. The Copper Beech is threading the needle, trying to balance the allure of Bike Night with the peace of the pavement. It is a modern-day quandary, where tradition clashes with tranquillity, and the search for a middle ground continues. No easy answers, just the steady hum of engines and the hope for harmony.

The condition of the green spaces adjacent to the former St. John’s Ambulance building, and the BT exchange, has caught the community’s attention. The Parish Council has committed to investigating the ownership and maintenance responsibilities for these areas. They aim to ensure that those accountable are not only aware but also actively engaged in their maintenance duties. This leading by example approach reflects a broader resourcefulness to enhance the local environment, fostering a sense of pride and communal responsibility. By addressing such often-overlooked spaces, the council is championing the cause of urban beautification and sustainability.

There being no further questions from the public gallery, the PC continued with the agenda.

The local council’s upcoming October session promises to be a lively one, with a fresh wave of six hopefuls vying for the four available seats at the council table. This influx of new blood suggests a keen interest in shaping the community’s future. In preparation for the colder months, the Parish Council has accepted a donation of rock salt, weighing in at a hefty hundred kilograms, earmarked for icy roads. The council is also on a mission to pinpoint and catalogue the whereabouts of grit bins they own, ensuring readiness when Jack Frost comes knocking.

In an unexpected twist, the neighbourhood Co-Op found itself in a bit of a pickle, having erected a sign without an official’s thumbs-up. However, they managed to navigate the bureaucratic waters successfully, securing the needed retrospective approval from NSDC. Interestingly, the initial proposal for a zebra crossing leading shoppers safely to the Co-Op’s doors was quietly shelved, with no indication of it making a comeback in future urban plans.

On another front, the council has taken a step towards bolstering community safety by acquiring new flood barriers. These barriers are not just one-trick ponies; they are versatile enough to be repurposed for crowd management during large gatherings or events. This move reflects a strategic approach to resource utilisation, addressing multiple needs within the community. The council’s actions demonstrate a blend of foresight and adaptability, traits that are essential in the ever-evolving responsibilities of local governance.

The revitalisation of the War Memorial is set to kick off in the heart of September, with a dynamic team ready to breathe new life into this revered monument. The project timeline is tightly scheduled to ensure completion in the run-up to Remembrance Sunday, a poignant day of reflection that, for this year, is marked on the 10^th of November. In preparation, the Parish Council has taken steps to ensure a seamless event, including the application for road closures to facilitate a respectful atmosphere for commemoration. Furthermore, the council has earmarked a budget of £1,000, demonstrating their commitment to honouring the legacy of the fallen with the due reverence and solemnity that the occasion demands. This leadership not only reflects the community’s dedication to preserving history but also showcases a modern approach to remembrance, intertwining traditional values with contemporary execution. The memorial’s facelift is more than a mere renovation; it is a rekindling of the collective memory and a reaffirmation of the town’s gratitude to those who sacrificed their tomorrows for our todays. As the project unfolds, it will undoubtedly become a focal point of local pride, offering a space where past, present, and future converge in silent tribute. With meticulous planning and community spirit at its core, these works are poised to be a tribute to the enduring respect and remembrance that transcends generations.

In a refreshing twist on tradition, Sparrow Park is set to welcome a new permanent resident: a fig tree sculpture, chosen for its timeless beauty and symbolic growth, to replace the ageing Christmas tree. This artistic pivot comes with a price tag of £12.5k, a sum that overshadows the PC’s allocated £6k. To bridge this financial gap, the PC is reaching out to the community’s ambitious spirit, encouraging local businesses to contribute, and initiating a GoFundMe campaign to rally public support.

Meanwhile, the village is poised for a facelift with the introduction of contemporary signage and noticeboards, signalling a renewed sense of identity and community engagement. These updates are slated for unveiling in the upcoming months, adding a modern touch to the village’s charming streets.

Anticipating needs, the PC is exploring the feasibility of relocating and adopting the life-saving defibrillator from the confines of the pharmacy to a more accessible exterior wall. This strategic shift would enhance the device’s visibility and availability, potentially saving precious minutes in emergency situations.

Additionally, the PC has earmarked £200.00 for the upkeep of the Crompton Road Skate Park seating. This investment underscores the council’s commitment to providing well-maintained recreational spaces for the youth and community at large, even during the winter months.

As the meeting progressed, these points were discussed with a forward-thinking approach, focusing on practicality and community benefit without dwelling on unnecessary formalities. The session concluded at 20:45, reflecting the council’s dedication to action over prolonged deliberation.

A SMALL GROUP OF THOUGHTFUL PEOPLE COULD CHANGE THE WORLD. INDEED, IT’S THE ONLY THING THAT EVER HAS.

Margaret Mead

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In the dimming light of the council chamber, where the echoes of political discourse still lingered in the air, an ethereal spectacle unfolded, unnoticed by the departing assembly. Upon the minstrel’s gallery, two spectral figures emerged, their forms as indistinct as the whispers of history that permeated the ancient walls. These apparitions, caught in the perpetual twilight of existence, were engaged in a ceaseless quarrel, their voices a mere susurration against the backdrop of the grand chamber.

Their laughter, a chilling harmony that danced upon the cobwebs, was as fleeting as their ephemeral joy. The elder, garbed in the remnants of finery, bore the weight of centuries in his hollow gaze, while his companion, a sprightly spirit, flickered with the vibrancy of youth long past. They were bound to this realm by a tale untold, their presence an imprint upon the very fabric of the chamber.

As the last of the day’s light surrendered to the encroaching shadows, the phantoms’ dispute grew more fervent, their gestures wild as the winds that howled outside the stained-glass windows. The elder ghost, with a voice that resonated with the gravitas of bygone eras, spoke of secrets buried beneath the foundations, of promises etched into stone. The younger, with a laugh that belied the solemnity of their surroundings, countered with jests that mocked the very nature of their spectral existence.

Yet, amidst their spectral mirth and timeless bickering, there was a unity that transcended the veil between life and death. They were custodians of the chamber’s legacy, witnesses to the unending march of governance and the fleeting concerns of the living. In their endless vigil, they had seen the rise and fall of empires, the changing tides of power, and the immutable constancy of human ambition.

As the night deepened, their forms became but shadows within shadows, their laughter a fading echo in the hallowed halls of history. And though they would vanish with the coming dawn, their presence would remain, a subtle reminder of the eternal dance between the temporal and the everlasting, in the heart of the council chamber where the living and the dead converge in silent congress.

Saron Stemos leaned back, stroking his beard thoughtfully. “You know, Tarsus Menon, this gathering of minds, it’s like the cosmos—vast and filled with possibilities.”

Tarsus Menon plucked at his lyre, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Ah, but dear philosopher, isn’t it more like one of my grand feasts? Some arrive hungry for change; others are just here to watch the show.”

“True, true,” Saron Stemos chuckled, “and yet, not all who are present are accounted for, and not all who are accounted for are present. Like atoms, they make up the whole but often go unnoticed.”

Tarsus Menon laughed, the sound echoing off the marble columns. “Well, let’s hope the absentees send more than just apologies. A nice bottle of Falernian wine, eh?”

Saron Stemos nodded, his eyes twinkling. “Indeed, the essence of a good meeting, much like a good life, is in both the seen and unseen, the said and unsaid. The balance of elements, as it were.”

The two shared a knowing look, the air filled with the unspoken understanding that, while the council may convene, the true nature of things always lies just beyond the grasp of governance.

Saron Stemos, sporting his best toga, eyed the latest infrastructure report with a sceptical brow. “Tarsus Menon, my dear emperor, it seems your grand designs for Rome’s waste management are as delayed as a chariot in the Circus Maximus traffic jam!”

Tarsus Menon, plucking his lyre absentmindedly, did not look up. “Ah, Saron Stemos, but like a fine wine, Rome wasn’t built, nor will it be refurbished, in a day. What are a few months to eternity?”

“Months? More like years at this rate,” Saron Stemos chuckled. “And speaking of eternity, that junction at Mickledale Lane is about as close to eternal standstill as we can get without invoking Hades himself.”

Tarsus Menon finally glanced up, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Perhaps a little fire might speed things along? I do have a certain… affinity for flames.”

Saron Stemos laughed, shaking his head. “Let’s stick to the financial backing, shall we? We wouldn’t want history to remember you as the emperor who played the fiddle while Nottinghamshire burned.”

With a dramatic sigh, Tarsus Menon set down his lyre. “Fine, fine. But pay attention, Saron Stemos, one day they will sing songs of how I revolutionised refuse!”

“Great Emperor,” Saron Stemos said, his voice a gentle breeze in the stillness, “the vast expanse of the cosmos dwarfs our earthly squabbles. Yet, the concern of a single woman regarding Scarborough Road resonates with the fundamental particles of our community, wouldn’t you agree?”

Tarsus Menon, cloaked in the regal hues of sovereignty, leaned in, his tone a symphony of authority and grace. “Wise philosopher, your discourse pirouettes around the matter. A parking space, reserved for the disabled, is a chord of utility and empathy, a melody I am well-versed in orchestrating.”

A soft chuckle escaped Saron Stemos, his mirth a quiet reflection of logic. “True, but reflect upon this, mighty Tarsus Menon. It is through modest deeds, like marking a space for those in need, that we gauge the heart of a civilization. Not by grand monuments or sweeping decrees, but through the silent acts of civic mindfulness.”

The ruler, a man of decisive action, snapped his fingers, a sound slicing the air like the chariots racing in the Circus Maximus. “So be it. For what is an emperor if not the steward of his populace, ensuring the cadence of daily existence unfolds without dissonance?”

“And yet,” pondered Saron Stemos, his eyes wandering to the life teeming beyond the walls, “there lies a splendour in the unplanned, in the unrehearsed symphony of existence. Must we always strive to direct, to allocate, to restrict?”

Tarsus Menon’s gaze, deep as the Tiber at night, caught a spark of insight. “Control, dear philosopher, is not the goal, but the instrument. It is the lyre that guides the tune, not the prison that ensnares the melody.”

The thinker nodded, his intellect painting thoughts across the canvas of silence. “We paint with broad strokes of governance, yet we must not overlook the delicate nuances, the subtle hues that bring dimension to our actions.”

Rising with a flourish, Tarsus Menon’s silhouette cast a shadow of determination. “Let it be known, from the Senate to Scarborough Road, that Rome hears, and Rome responds. For in the end, it is the citizenry that forms the true empire.”

“Ah, the harmonious symphony of life,” Saron Stemos mused, “even in the clamour of Crompton Road’s skate park, there is a rhythm to be found, a pattern that speaks to the very atoms of essence.”

“A symphony, you say. To my ears, it is but a cacophony begging for silence. A touch of imperial order could refine this… ‘symphony’ of yours.”

“The essence of life is variety, my emperor,” Saron Stemos replied, his gaze following a leaf carried by the wind. “Consider the one-way system of The Crescent; a simple change in direction can alter the flow of life’s chariots, reducing the discord of transgressions.”

Tarsus Menon pondered, the gold laurel upon his head catching the sun’s rays. “Order does have its merits. But tell me, philosopher, does not the security of Wycar’s site and the reclaiming of footpaths from encroaching nature speak to a desire for control?”

“In moderation, control is the canvas upon which existence paints its masterpiece,” Saron Stemos conceded, watching the diligent efforts of litter-pickers. “Yet, it is the spontaneous dance of the cosmos that truly colours our world, not the rigid lines of authority.”

Tarsus Menon’s laughter echoed through the air, a sound as commanding as his presence. “Spontaneity, you say. I have been known to indulge in life’s dance, though perhaps not as… atomically as you do.”

Saron Stemos smiled; his thoughts as free as the atoms he so often contemplated. “And yet, both the atom and the empire thrive on a balance of chaos and order, do they not?”

“Indeed,” Tarsus Menon agreed, his eyes alight with the reflection of Rome’s glory. “It is the interplay of these forces that shapes the destiny of man and empire alike.”

Saron Stemos, with a twinkle in his eye leant forward, eager to discuss the latest scheme to enliven the town’s heart. “Tarsus Menon, imagine a place where the past meets the present, where the War Memorial stands not just as a relic but as a beacon of progress, surrounded by the laughter of youth at the skate park, and the steady heartbeat of the community marked by the rhythmic thud of a defibrillator.”

Tarsus Menon, with a flourish of his hand, retorted with a fiery passion, “But what of the present dangers, the treacherous paths that winter lays before us? Shall we not address the icy grip that ensnares our streets, consult with the wise to scatter the frost’s hold, ensuring that each citizen may walk with the dignity of safety?”

“And what of our air, the very breath of our city?” Saron Stemos countered, concern lacing his words. “The discarded canisters, remnants of fleeting euphoria, they litter our streets as evidence of neglect. Shall we not stand with the council and clear the air, for the health of our people and the purity of our skies?”

Tarsus Menon, eyes alight with the reflection of a well-lit district, spoke of the vibrancy of commerce, “The Crescent’s glow must not falter, for it is the lifeblood of trade, the warmth in the cold. Let us then join hands with Via, to cast a light on the shadowed paths, to guide our kin through winter’s chill.”

Saron Stemos, ever the visionary, nodded in agreement, “Yes, and let us not forget the voices of our people, the chorus that guides our hand. The council’s ear must remain attuned to their needs, through the tradition of dialogue and the new recap segment, a bridge for the latecomer to join the celebration of governance.”