When Holly Dawson posted a tweet about a donor who left two dwellings to be let cheaply to hard-up people in her village, it proceeded viral. But there were also many cynics who cast doubt on the tale. She felt compelled to check it out.
Like all good stories, this one starts with a cup of tea in a friend’s garden. We’re talking, as we often talk, about mansions – the impossibility, in this expensive corner of Sussex, of find a residence you can actually afford. Rents around here, even for the smaller two-bedroom home, average PS1, 000 a month or more. In my lawsuit, as a self-employed single mother with two small children, every penny, and many a sleepless night, are invested retaining a roof over our heads.
My friend mentions some houses that a mortal left for low-income families to lease for three years at PS300 a month.
We remark on the good humans; how narratives like this are something we need to hear more and more. Later, scrolling through the shouty soapbox noise of Twitter, I decide to share this nugget of niceness. I don’t expect anyone to answer – I don’t application hashtags or copy anyone in. My normal tweets about Virginia Woolf and geeky ignite occurrences get barely a scattering of likes. I write :P TAGEND
Just heard about a guy who died in my village+ left 3 houses to the council, with the stipulation that they’re for young families to rent for a fixed period of 3yrs with rent of PS300 pcm( in an area where rent is PS1000 +). Because we all need to talk more about the good humans.
Talking about the very best humen is something I feel we definitely all be required to do. Specially on Twitter. But I had no theory how much Twitter agreed.
I wake up the next morning to 5,000 likes. The remainder of the day, my phone explodes, until I have to turn notifications off. I watch the amount rise hypnotically, swiping down on my screen to assure the tally come near, 100 more at each freshen. Night falls with 41 K likes, 8,000 retweets and practically 200 comments.
The commentaries seem to fall into three categories :P TAGEND
1) People praising this stranger’s random act of kindness( “give him a sainthood” ), thanking me for sharing good report, pleased there’s goodness in the world.
2) Person who envision I’ve stirred it up( “I’m filing this under things that didn’t happen”) – a few set me forward for @DHOTYA, the Didn’t Happen of the Year Awards.
3) Cynics, sceptical about the council( “Three lucky assembly officials”) or about the capitalist system( “Three mansions? He’s the problem”/ “How much was he accusing when he was alive though? ” ). Also random racists: “They will give it to immigrants”/ “The Somalis will be grateful.”
Something which began as a neighbourhood anecdote has abruptly become a narrative I have to prove. I find myself in the uncomfortable grey zone where something becomes “true” through popularity not reality. Despite having presented it purely as something I’d “heard”, I feel compelled to uncover the truth as I watch statement after remark deride the landlord’s kindness with cynicism.
Other comments stimulation me on, such as: “This man deserves a plaque memorialising his contribution” and “Shame you don’t mention the benefactor’s epithet so they can be acknowledged for this great behave of kindness and generosity.”
So I start questioning around the village. I speak to the parish committee, to the village record group, to people going on the light-green. And the narratives I detect reveal even more kindness than I expected.
St Mary’s Church, Ringmer, 2014
April, 4 years ago, the village church. People of all ages and backgrounds have come to celebrate the living standards of a remarkable mortal. Ian Askew, 92 – Army captain and Military Cross winner, High Sheriff of Sussex, joint master of the Southdown Hunt, antiques trader, churchgoer, starring of many a neighbourhood pantomime, donor. A good-humoured, high-spirited bachelor-at-arms, for whom his community became his family, dishing out fund, often anonymously, to local groups and individuals in need.
“Ian could mix with everybody, ” recollects one local. “He was well-known as someone who would talk with anyone, often popping into coffee mornings at the village auditorium and chatting with older tenants. He had strong relationships with all his tenants, never developing rents or shedding anyone out. There are still people living on the old controlled rents on his estate.”
Askew lived alone in nearby Wellingham House but, procuring it bigger than he necessity, he let a charity have it for a peppercorn lease, and it became a home for people with learning difficulties.
The more I hear, the more I realise that Ian Askew may have died in 2014, but in the talents he leaves behind he very much lives on.
The Brickworks, The Broyle, Ringmer, 1970
The stories take me further back still, to 1970, a few domains away from the church, where a large Victorian brickworks is inducing its final bricks. For virtually 200 times, a brickworks has stood here. The village, rich in Weald clay, has been renowned for its pottery since the Norman conquest – there are remains of medieval kilns scattered all over these fields. Bricks from this brickyard built every home on the pre-war Nevill estate in nearby Lewes. The clay pond will one day become part of live animals recovery centre, dwelling ducks that my children and I will invest many afternoons feeding.
The Bentley Estate, 1970
Not far over the fields, in the sprawling Bentley estate, a boy called Gerald Askew is taking his final breathers. Gerald is Ian Askew’s brother. Between them, they own much of the field: Plashett Wood, where my children will, years later, go to forest school; Wellingham House, next door to my children’s future nursery; Bentley, where we will go for my son’s second birthday. They also own the brickworks. But now Gerald is dying, the kilns have stopped firing, and soon Ian Askew will come up with a plan for the brickyard house.
The Jubilee Cottages, 1977
Ian turns the house into two semi-detached cottages, to be let to young pairs while they wait for years on the council dwelling roster. He calls them the Jubilee Cottages, to differentiate the Queen’s 1977 Silver Jubilee. He has ascertained the difficulties experienced by families in need as they languish on the waiting list, and he wants to help them, by enabling them to rent his home for the same cost as a council residence( then PS100 or so per month) until they reach the top of the list. The bungalows are managed by the district assembly until all dwelling stock is sold off. They are then to incorporate into a protected trust, oversaw, to this day, by Ringmer parish council.
Image copyrightRingmer Historical SocietyImage caption The bungalows, above, in 1920 and 1960; and below, derelict in 1975 and restored in 2009
Contrary to Twitter’s cynical assumption that the houses would be sold, rented out at an inflated cost or reserved for council officials and their relatives, Askew’s intention has in fact been honoured for four decades, and that proves no signs of changing. The houses are now leased out for three years , not two, as they were in the past, and though the lease appears to have tripled to PS300 it has actually halved in real terms. Families apply to the parish, outlining their situations or their connection to the field. Many use the opportunity to save up for a deposit to get a paw on the precarious dwelling ladder.
Image caption Holly exploring her village 
