Snapshots from Havering-Atte-Bower
(SA/2026)
I.
Havering-Atte-Bower is a semi-rural village 345 feet above sea level. It lies just a few short miles up the road from my house in Harold Hill - or a world away, depending on how you measure these things.
The first part of the name is Saxon in origin, dating back to the 11th-century reign of Edward the Confessor. It refers to a great landowner known as Hæfer. Literally translating to he-goat, we can assume he was either a man devilishly aware of himself, or simply rank-smelling.
The suffix - pronounced to rhyme with catty and flower - was added by 1272 and marks the village's history as the site of a royal residence. Known as The Bower, this part-palace, part-rustic retreat fell into ruin and was pulled down in the 17th century.
II.
A 20-minute ride on the 375 bus from Romford station brings you to the village green. Alight here to find a sign announcing the village's 1042 founding, alongside the original village stocks and an old whipping post.
Fortunately, these are no longer in use, though under the current Reform UK council, you never know what the future will bring. Still, I doubt even Nigel Farage and co. would revive the practice of ducking witches, though the pond for such is located just across the road (if now overgrown with reeds).
Other landmarks include St. John's Church, constructed in the 1870s by architect Basil Champneys on the site of a medieval chapel, and Havering Country Park, home to one of England's only two giant redwood plantations imported from California. There is also the white-walled water tower on Broxhill Road, built in 1934 (we were told as children in the 1970s that the pop star David Essex lived there).
Finally, there's the traditional village pub: The Orange Tree, on Orange Tree Hill. Licensed premises have stood on this site since at least 1754, under various names, and not only does The Orange Tree serve food but they actively encourage vertical drinking for those who like to stand by the bar and socialise.
III.
As Essex villages go, Havering-Atte-Bower possesses all the features that make them so beloved. And despite the fact that it is, technically, part of Greater London, it still feels as if one were (almost) in the countryside, surrounded as it is by green belt fields and farmland, and offering some lovely views.
However, I regret to inform readers that it's also an ecological dead zone: I spent an entire afternoon there and didn't hear a single note of birdsong, nor the distinct buzz of insects in the long grass. There's just the relentless sound of cars.
Havering boasts of being one of London's greenest boroughs. Yet its tree canopy has plummeted from 25% in 2018 to just 14% today, and nearly all the wildflower meadows of my youth are gone. Natural habitats face relentless pressure and animal numbers continue to decline.
It's not just the huge impact of new housing developments and the gradual erosion of green spaces. Decades of intensive agriculture - ripping up hedgerows and spraying fields with poison - have wiped out the insects, leaving birds and small creatures to starve.
Intense summer heatwaves, arson-induced wildfires, and the illegal dumping of rubbish obviously compound the damage.
The UK-wide biodiversity crisis is profoundly depressing. And, despite the efforts of conservation groups fighting to restore local ecosystems and rewild certain areas, I hold out little hope, to be honest.
One can't help wondering what Hæfer would make of the county he knew and loved, now deprived of its breeding birds, its large beasts, and its rivers and ponds once teeming with fish.
