I rely on Roger Federer to get me from A to B. He’s the trusted voice on the sat nav and few destinations defeat him. But one Saturday en-route to a football pitch, his dulcet (albeit AI generated) tones disappear, and I am deserted in rural Hampshire.
Seeking a connection
The signal dies just as we hit Broughton, an attractive village nestled in the Test Valley between Winchester and Salisbury.
A primary school…a church…a closed pub set amongst variety of housing genres. There’s a couple of homes you might see on the pages of Country Living, plenty of picture-perfect stone cottages, several new-build enclaves, and some social housing. But I can’t find a football pitch and start to panic.
The streets are alive in this Hampshire backwater. I see locals strolling down the Main Street, all heading in the same direction. Dog walkers, chatty neighbours, old folk, mums and dads with pushchairs… Where are they going? I sense a pull towards something, and I’m pretty sure it’s not to the Littleton Juniors match. I decide to follow them, wherever they’re heading there’s bound to be someone who could show me the way.
Does anyone know where the football pitch is?
The stream of humans I follow leads to a well-preserved, Victorian red brick village hall attached to a post office and a community store. It’s open and I’m sure the shopkeeper or a customer will know where the pitch is. I park the car next to the smart, recently sunk, electrical car charge-point and head into the shop.
Finding a pulse…
The queue to pay is six shoppers long but nobody’s tutting. They’re so engaged in chat they don’t sigh and or feel the need to scroll or tap on their phones. Some carry parcels to send, others buy freshly baked bread or a carton of milk. I race in huffing and puffing, and they barely notice me.
The store is clearly managed with pride and dedication. It’s a beautifully clean and well stocked shop with an abundance of fresh produce, locally sourced and displayed in rustic wooden boxes or inside modern, finger-print free fridges. There’s an eco-refill station and a well organised post office counter.
The staff behind the tills are chatty and appear to know everyone’s name. Homemade cakes adorn the counter next to a barista coffee machine. It’s clearly a social hub where customers and staff communicate with friends, neighbours, families over the counter and in the queue.
The store opens out onto to a well-appointed, buzzing village hall where there is cafe seating and a busy helper sorting out the Saturday papers. Toddlers play in the children’s corner stacked full of well-maintained toys and role play furniture. Parents half watch them whilst drinking a well-earned latte.
I spot a community notice board advertising opportunities to join amateur dramatics, gardening and cycling groups and an invitation to come and watch a film. Through the windows I see resting dogs and their owners sat at bistro tables on a daffodil lined terrace and decide to approach them.
‘Err..sorry to interrupt but does anyone know where the football pitch is please?’
A few blank faces, but thankfully a man gives me directions to the playing field, so I can navigate my way there without Roger. It’s well hidden, behind a hedge and I turn up just as the players leave the pitch.
I may have missed my son score the goal of a lifetime but console myself with the knowledge that we often make our greatest discoveries when we find ourselves lost.
Rear view reflections
Leaving Broughton behind, I contemplate my discovery.
In an age where technology enables us to function without leaving our homes, a shared space where humans can interact, and support others is vital for us to thrive. Community buildings offer warm, welcoming, and inclusive environments. Nowhere is this more important than in rural communities where infrastructure and transport is limited.
Research conducted by ACRE (Action with Communities in Rural England) found that ‘in 60% of countryside areas, community buildings are the only place for local people to socialise’.
With loneliness a growing issue in our rural areas, the importance of community buildings should not be underestimated. According to Deborah Clarke, ACRE’s Village Halls Manager ‘if it wasn’t for village halls, many people in rural communities would find themselves isolated….village halls are an important part of rural communities and should be recognised for the vital support they offer. They are instrumental in combating rural isolation and are a vital asset for residents and businesses.’
Broughton Village Hall is clearly a huge asset to the village and its wider community. In part two of my blog, I revisit this hub of activity and talk to its staff and volunteers. Now I know my way, there’ll be no need to rely on my AI Roger….
