How Big Is Ashford? / One Goes Mad In Dorset

I may be in a minority but every ten years I find it interesting to pore over the population figures when the census results are released.

It's particularly interesting down here in Kent, as my hometown of Ashford is often said to be of the fastest growing in the country, spreading rapidly across the farmland to the south of the town. I heard that a local songwriter once wrote a ditty along the lines of 'Come to Ashford before Ashford comes to you (credit is available if the composer comes forward!).

Well, the official figure shows an increase from 67,000 people to 76,000. However, I would argue that the boundary of what is regarded as Ashford should include modern developments like Park Farm, Finberry and Chilmington in their entirety. This 'urban area' figure gives a population of 84,000 (up from 74,000), which seems more representative. I imagine that service providers and businesses look at population figures when deciding whether or not to locate in a town, so it makes sense to me for the powers that be to revise the boundaries of what is regarded as 'Ashford' to include all the suburbs as it grows. I did suggest this (along with other tips for improvement) to our local MP as well as Ashford Borough Council when I was bored during the lockdown. I guess they must be working on it!

It has often been rumoured that Ashford will end up being the largest town in Kent, so you may be surprised to learn that Maidstone now has 121,000 inhabitants and is actually growing at a faster rate. In provincial Kent, Ashford is second in size after the county town, but if you include Dartford and Medway, which the 'City Population' website doesn't include in the Kent list, you will find that Dartford, Gillingham and Chatham are all still larger than Ashford.

Apologies to my non-local readers that the first half of this post is very much a local post for local people, but I then extended my number-crunching to the borough's villages.

The built-up area population is the best available gauge of village-size, and if you disqualify villages that have part of Ashford in their designated built-up area, the top ten largest are Charing, Wye, Hamstreet, Brabourne Lees, Shadoxhurst, High Halden, Biddenden, Woodchurch, Bethersden and Challock. One is tempted to record an audio clip reciting the list over the 'Pick of the Pops' music in the style of Alan Freeman!

If you look at parish populations the list is different as parishes vary wildly in size and some villages (like Hamstreet and Brabourne Lees) run across two parishes. I guess all this reminds us to be very careful when presented with statistics, as strategic use of figures can be summoned to bolster any point of view. If you want to say 'enough development' or 'bring it on,' you just choose the set of figures that best suits your point!

I recently took a trip to Bournemouth to try to break up the 'winterregnum' between Christmas and New Year (when the weather outside is frightful). With roughly 80,000 more people than Maidstone, certain parts of Bournemouth have a 'city' feel, but there are some delightful walks through the green arteries that follow various streams (or bournes) down to the sea. I found myself watching the kite-surfers in Poole Harbour one day and walking to Christchurch another day to admire the abbey. The name for this particular settlement comes from the abbey itself, which was so-named because during construction a large beam seemed to mystically appear roughly when an unknown carpenter vanished. I'm sure you can guess who locals thought this carpenter may have been, and the name just stuck.

Another interesting spot was in Bournemouth itself, this being the grave of Mary Shelley, the author of 'Frankenstein,' which is arguably the world's first science fiction book. I guess you could say that it is this author's idea of finding inspiration. Check out Digital Psychosis for the latest offering which I like to think was momentarily the world's newest science fiction book when released. Forget Prince Harry 'going spare' - you'll hear all about it on the news anyway - this is the 'must have' book for 2023 (even if I say so myself!).

The New Forest & Bournemouth - a Cycling Perambulation

The journey from Kent to the New Forest by train is something of an epic, although remarkably cheap if you travel along the South Coast via Brighton and Southampton. I alighted at Brockenhurst, with the feeling that astronauts must get after travelling to the moon and first setting foot on the lunar landscape as I headed south along a B-road. My aim was to cycle a former railway track-bed to Ringwood, but a sign said 'Residents Only' (or words to that effect) at the point where it left the road. So I decided to ride a big square to get onto the route further west, encountering my first New Forest ponies under a bridge. I then recapped the eastern end of the track-bed and it turned out that perhaps the sign had been aimed at vehicles rather than bikes, for I passed many other cyclists oblivious to this prohibition.

Resuming a westward course, after a few miles I reached the remnants of a station where an elderly couple warned me so that I didn't ride over an adder. The old man remarked that it looked beautiful, but having never been a huge fan of snakes I politely voiced a counter-opinion! We watched it slither away into the long grass, and breathing a sigh of relief, I continued. Yet, within a few minutes of resuming my ride, I nearly rode over another one. The snake coiled upon itself in defence and I vowed to get well out of this area before thinking about camping. Later, when I crossed a lane, the way it curved up the hillside reminded me of the shape of the snake, but I found this much more attractive (sorry, nature lovers!).

At the end of the track, I turned right towards the village of Burley and took a short cut up Honey Lane (a pleasant name for a muddy track). About six ponies were coming the other way, like a family out for an afternoon stroll. After more lanes and a short resurgence of the track-bed, I headed into Ringwood. A hiker asked me for the very specific amount of £1.50. Thinking he might be homeless I took pity, but afterwards felt that I might have been conned. It's always so tricky to know what is the right thing to do in these situations.

To the south of the town, the railway route continues westward, now named the Castleman Way (or Castleman Corkscrew due to its circuitous route to take in as many towns as possible between Brockenhurst and Poole). It bridged a few rivers and was a straight, lightly forested route, at times running as two trails side by side.

I decided to stop at a pub in the village of West Moors. Relaxing with a pint, I took in the vibes of the radio station which was playing non-stop rock classics. The bar staff said they receive mixed opinions from their customers but thanked me for my complimentary feedback (guitarist's pun intended). I enjoyed a healthy salmon dinner before moving on.

The route beyond deviated from the old rail route, using various woodland tracks, eventually steering me onto the main road into Wimborne Minster. At Leigh Common, I headed into the woods in search of a camping spot. There was a trail on a wooden platform over wetlands – the longest of its kind that I've seen. I eventually made my bed beside a fence. Some young men in fields nearby seemed to be getting drunk, and when they went quiet, some noisy teenage girls started shrieking with merriment. Naturally, I kept as inconspicuous as possible until my eyelids grew heavy and the revelry subsided.

It amazed me that the footpath behind the fence was busy even before it got light. After some dozing, I packed everything away and rode into Wimborne Minster, choosing a Polish cafe for a traditional English breakfast. I had a look inside the minster before taking a course southward from the town, accidentally frequenting the ladies' - twice! The funny look I got the second time was what gave the game away.

Rejoining the track-bed, which now began a long descent towards Poole, tiredness began to encroach, so I stopped for a rest in a wooded glade near where the path bridges the mighty A35. I used my rucksack as a pillow and actually dozed, dreaming in sounds only (strange things happen when asleep in the woods!).

After the bridge there were some estate roads (these look the same in every town) and soon after I got a bit lost, finding my way through Upton Park, to a path which ran along the top of Poole Harbour. The harbour is often claimed to be the second largest natural harbour in the world after Sydney. This upper part is also a nature reserve (read 'covered with algae'). When I reached Poole 'Old Town,' I decided to explore. The Lower High Street was very quaint, but further up were all the usual stores (like those suburbs – the same in every town – except in my home town where far too many shops are displaying 'To Let' signs to befit the 'boom town' epithet often bestowed upon it). I returned to a pub in the quaint part and took in the vibes of the beer garden, after watching an elderly couple drink up rapidly and leave having been blasted with rave music from the juke box inside. I knew it was a mistake when they came in and sat right beneath the speaker.

The next part of the ride along Poole Harbour was the day's high point, with views to Brownsea Island (site of Baden-Powell's first scout camp) and the Purbeck Hills across the water and a pleasant green ever to my left on the landward side. However, disappointment followed at the end of Shore Road – I wanted to ride the sea-wall to Bournemouth but bikes aren't allowed on the esplanade in July and August. An RNLI collector ventured, 'You're probably wondering why we are here?' I replied, 'To be honest I'm wondering if I can bike along this sea-wall!' His response was informative, so I put some coins in the bucket before pounding eastwards along the leafy cliff-top roads instead, gently curving, with a suspension footbridge over one of the 'chines.'

I breezed through Bournemouth and on to Boscombe, where I saw the first signs of High Street decline on this trip. I imagine that Internet shopping is to blame for the traditional High Street's struggles along with the perpetual recession and the continued policy of lower tax for businesses locating out of town. I also saw a 'Doctor Who' style police box at the start of the pedestrian area. Maybe such a TARDIS could whizz me back to a time when our High Streets were buzzing!

The rest of the ride took me through interminable suburbs as far as some woodland near the village of Hurn. Here I made the pivotal decision to go home. The threat of rain for most of the next day was one reason, but I was also nearing the New Forest again; as the afternoon progressed I would soon need to find a camping spot and there is a ban on wild camping across the whole of the New Forest (and who would want to with all those snakes?). So another adventure drew to a close. There are plenty more to read about in my book, 'Stair Rods and Stars.' The digital editions of most my books are now free, so if you've enjoyed this narrative, why not have a look on Kindle, iBooks, etc. and go 'the full cycle?'