THREE years hence, as a novice commentator on Island life, the universe and all that, I brought to readers’ attention a much-disliked building that dominates the Warsaw skyline.

The Polish members of our community will be familiar with this unpopular landmark, a gift from its past master, the former Soviet Union.

The Palace of Culture and Science dominates an equally unattractive city hastily constructed from the ruins of an architecturally stunning metropolis which was reputed, before the Second World War, to surpass the beauty of Paris. It was built in the style known as ‘Stalin’s Seven Sisters’ – or wedding cake tiered architecture – in homage to the collection of matching skyscrapers exemplified by Moscow State University and the Russian capital’s Hotel Ukhrina.

So fond was the despotic Soviet leader of his own version of ‘iconic’ architecture that he not only demolished outstanding traditional Russian architecture and ‘onion dome’ churches dating back to the Boyars, he also donated copy-cat buildings to the former Eastern Bloc countries.

On my last trip to Poland, my hotel room overlooked the Palace of Culture and Science. It made me laugh as I recalled a joke told to me on my first visit, some 20 years before.

Excuse me for repeating it, but for those who may have forgotten it over the course of the past three years it went like this: ‘What are the best views of Warsaw? Those from the Palace of Culture and Science as you can’t see it.’

I am not alone in feeling the same way about Dandara’s Portelet Bay – and the other developments increasingly springing up to sit so incongruously with familiar surroundings.

I have tried my damndest to understand the arguments put in favour of Portelet Bay. It was, after all, designed by a top British architect and has won many awards. But that really doesn’t cut any ice because it simply isn’t ‘Jersey.’

In no way am I advocating that every new building should resemble classics of the vernacular such as The Elms, a traditional ‘cod’ or manor house, Le Rât or Almorah Crescent, but nor should architecture be so alien to the local sense of place that the first impression colours any rational debate about its merits.

The total dislocation of the Portelet development from its immediate surroundings, and the Island in general, was summed up unintentionally, by the marketing blurb dropped through Island letterboxes earlier this month. In particular, the closing line of an endorsement from a satisfied customer who quoted his son’s estimation of the luxury and very expensive development: ‘When you are up here it is almost as if you are in another place.’

Precisely where would that place happen to be? Monaco, Miama Beach, a Spanish Costa, Australia’s ‘bling-bling’ Gold Coast or overdeveloped stretches of the Algarve, perchance? Because one thing is for sure, it most certainly is not Jersey as we used to know it.

We shouldn’t entirely blame this particular gated enclave for ruining its surroundings. Neighbouring developments have also contributed to turn yet another special corner of Jersey into an exclusive ‘millionaire’s row’.

In concerning ourselves with the new development we have overlooked the sorry state of the old beach café on the sands below. Who is responsible for this eyesore and what is going to happen to it?

I’d also be grateful if someone could kindly explain how the vantage point of Portelet affords views over ‘the ocean’, as the marketing blurb also claimed? What laps the once delightful sands of Portelet Bay is absolutely not an ocean – it isn’t even a sea, but the waters of the bay of St Malo.

Obviously, overlooking an ocean inflates a property’s price tag more than your bog-standard bay. Yet this clumsy use of ‘ocean’ pretty much sums up how Jersey is losing its way.

Without straying too far into the Royston Vasey territory occupied by The League of Gentlemen, we ‘locals’ are beginning to feel like strangers in our own home.
We simply don’t recognise our surroundings any more because Jersey is gradually being taken over by people more interested in making money than respecting the place in which they live, simply to do business. Moreover, the Island is being reconfigured by developers who parachute in ‘big name’ architects to design buildings more at home in a UK setting, rather than respecting what is special about ‘our’ place.

It used to be that people made their home here because they valued what makes Jersey different and they were willing to adapt to a quirky little community with a long history and an enviable lifestyle. Now we are witnessing a sea change as developments more at home in ‘Anywhere Ville UK’ spring up to jar our senses.

In the Island Plan debate, States Members spoke of their commitment to protect the countryside from development. I see little of that as expensive pseudo ‘grand designs’ spring up in previously unspoiled rural idylls and on the coast, while first-time buyers who want to own a home in their place of birth are expected to live in the town and not the parishes in which they grew up.

The cover of last week’s Private Eye said it all. Focusing on the UK government’s controversial reforms of planning law, it pictured a flock of sheep in a rural setting. Says sheep number one: ‘They’ve got a lot of concrete proposals.’ Sheep two replies: ‘Yes, it’s called the greed belt.’
Don’t we know it!