By Fiona Walker
ONCE upon a time there was a beautiful island. In springtime, flowers bloomed, and daffodils lined the hedgerows. In summer, the sun shone, and tourists flocked to the beautiful beaches and frolicked in the waves. In autumn, the wind blew golden leaves from the trees and the smell of woodsmoke scented the air. In winter – and the winters were usually mild – locals wrapped up warmly and took invigorating walks on the dunes, the cliff paths and the now empty beaches. It wasn’t paradise; nowhere is paradise, but it was a pretty good place to live.
“Our island is good;” said the leaders “but how can we make it better?” And they had the idea to make the town more attractive by closing roads and encouraging more people into the metropolis. Accordingly, one restaurant created a beautiful al fresco area for visitors to enjoy, and it was so well used that they extended the area and enhanced it with colourful, comfortable furnishings and an awning to protect their customers from inclement weather, and their visitors were happy. But the restaurant had forgotten to ask for the right permission from the leaders, and the leaders were incensed by this oversight.
“Take down your awnings, remove your extension,” they said, “you must be punished for not seeking our approval for all this fabulousness. We do not care that it fits perfectly with our plans for the area, we will overlook how much it is enjoyed by the public. It must go.”
Meanwhile, the leaders contemplated other aspects of the hospitality industry in the island, an industry which always strived for high standards but was besieged by rising inflation and dwindling numbers of tourists coming to enjoy those beautiful beaches.
“Please help us,” said the industry representatives, and the leaders promised that supporting hospitality was their top priority. Then they introduced new regulations. Instead of improving standards, their new rules imposed extra costs and strangled many of the smaller businesses, which were already struggling.
“You must display allergen information on all foods,” said the leaders, ignoring the implications of their ruling, “and you must guarantee that there will be zero cross-contamination in your kitchens. An allergen disclaimer will no longer be sufficient, despite the fact that such practices have always worked well.” And the small businesses, those with kitchens too tiny to adhere to such requirements, reeled as they considered the extra expense.
“We won’t respond to your objections,” said the leaders. And another long-established restaurant closed its doors.
Next, the leaders turned their attention to the roads which were in poor repair and riven with potholes. They prepared a plan of action, which included multiple roadworks during the tourist months.
“We must close some roads while work is being done,” said the leaders, “but road signs alone are insufficient. We must employ a man to sit alongside the signs on some road closures to tell drivers that the route is indeed impassable. And if the road isn’t being closed, we must put up numerous signs to warn of roadworks ahead, signs that will create more of an obstacle than the work itself.”
“We need more funding for mental health, the elderly and the disadvantaged,” said the people. And the leaders repaved and prettified an intersection in the town centre and provided period products in men’s toilets.
Then the leaders reflected on their achievements, and they were pleased.
But the islanders weren’t so pleased. “Our money is being wasted, businesses are closing, people are unhappy,” they said. “How can we change things?”
And some residents left the island that wasn’t paradise, even though they loved the beautiful beaches, the country lanes and the cliff paths. The looked to move to somewhere where the cost of living was lower, or the regulations for running a business were less stringent or the price of houses was more affordable.
Those that were left behind scratched their heads and asked themselves how things could be improved and what could be done to raise spirits in the island that wasn’t paradise. And then they remembered that there was soon to be an election, and they realised how important it was to cast their votes for people who wouldn’t waste their money, who would support businesses, who would cut red tape, who would care about their community, who wouldn’t promise the impossible and, most importantly of all, who would listen to voters and truly do their best to create a thriving, affordable environment.
And they watched, and they waited.
(This is a work of fiction; any similarities to a small island lying just off the coast of France are unintentional.)
Fiona Walker was born and educated in Jersey and worked in finance before having children. She moved into media, presenting her own programme on BBC Radio Jersey, then as a senior broadcast journalist for local BBC television news. She was editor of The Jersey Life and wrote eight series for the national publication Motor Boat & Yachting magazine. She now promotes Jersey charity shops on social media under the name Upstylejersey.
