neighbours

I’ve had a low key Summer with my son, we’ve watched the news less, done less than perhaps we usually do and certainly spent less than in previous Summer Holidays. I’m a single parent, working part-time for Roots and adding in days on other projects, flexibly, around my child. Less ‘extra’ work is possible during the Summer because I have Arlo at home, but this limit on Summer earnings has never phased me previously.

The cost of living crisis has snuck up on us quickly; being creatures of habit, our weekly shopping bill has climbed steadily, despite containing the same things week in/week out. My lackadaisical attitude towards listening to or acting upon anything Martin Lewis says has cranked up ten notches, I now read everything he publishes as soon as it drops into my inbox. I’m noticing the rapid change and our lives are radically different to the one we lived only a year ago – there are now few extras incoming, no TV subscriptions and no impulsive buys or holiday plans. I’d be tucking money away in a savings account if there was any left over at the end of the month, too.

The reassuring thing for us, now that school is back in, is that I have a bit of extra capacity to work more hours and bridge the financial gap a bit, but what about my neighbour eight doors down, who works as a carer, undoubtedly on a low and unwavering wage and already doing all the hours god sends? The one chink of light, in what feels like a long, communal slide into the abyss, is possibly a hangover from the new kinds of relationships we all built here during Lockdown, that we are able to talk to each other about what’s happening to us now, in a candid way that we didn’t before.

I was at another neighbour’s house this week, doing her highlights at the kitchen table as a favour, and her husband brought up the energy crisis, the new PM and immigration – all in one short, DIY hair bleaching session. Despite my love of a good political ranting session, these neighbours have never wanted to discuss anything like this before and always felt awkward when I brought anything up. They carried on, talking about how they felt embarrassed by the last PM we had representing us on the world stage and that they knew nothing at all about the new one – how distant they generally felt from our leaders, and how unlike ‘us’ they are.

We talked about immigration, ‘everyone still wants to come here, though.’ I felt it was okay for once to wonder out loud that ‘if that were true, then, why are there so many driving, service, farm and labouring jobs going begging at the moment?’ – a million, apparently. ‘Could it be that our migrant workforce might be going back to their countries of origin in their droves?’

It was a calm and thoughtful conversation, no debate, heavy on wondering and light on facts, just learning about each other’s attitudes very gently, drinking coffee, swatting at a persistent wasp and doing quite a good amateur job on Eileen’s highlights. It was, however, the start of a conversation we’d never had before – what do we see when we look around and what do we want our UK to look and feel like?

Over the next 18 months, The Roots Programme will be holding online conversations with ordinary people to discuss our visions of the UK we want to live in. We are also holding smaller, community-based online conversations in the same way, in places where wealth and deprivation may sit side by side.

Attend our UK-wide, online Visions conversations, come along and dare to dream, choose to listen and connect with others who live here in the UK, compassionately.

Find tickets here for our online event on the 28th of September.