The Only Way Is Essex: Danbury Ridge

BY NEAL MARTIN | APRIL 02, 2024

You can take the boy out of Essex, but you can’t take Essex out of the boy. I left the county years ago and considered returning as a newly married couple, at least until my wife saw it with her own eyes. Enquiring whether she would consider settling there, I didn’t catch every word of her reply, though the last five were ‘not’, ‘over’, ‘my’, ‘dead’ and ‘body’. Spousal reservations aside, it will always be where I was born and bred, despite its shortcomings:  

1) The landscape is flat and less eventful than John Cage’s 4’33”. Aesthetically, it seems laminated in a dull ochre tinge for reasons explained forthwith.

2) The landscape induces geographic claustrophobia with the North Sea to the east and the estuary to the south. Orc-filled marshland to the north and to the west, Basildon, a post-war dystopia built to make other citizens of Essex feel less unfortunate. Seen Escape from New York? Like that, but with annoying accents.

3) According to a poll, people consider the Essex accent the third most annoying after Cockney and the Queen’s English. Cross the Essex border, and the letter “H” vanishes, “TH” becomes “F”. You might overhear, “Fanks for the ‘alf bottle of ‘aut-Brion”, assuming a bottle has ever been drunk there…which I doubt. Unless it was stolen.

4) Essex’s gift to gastronomy is jellied eel. ‘ideous. No fanks.  

On the other hand, I cannot ignore Essex’s virtues…

1) It might not be a picture postcard, but painters like John Constable captured its beauty in oils. Growing older, I appreciate the solitude of its desolate wind-swept marshes and plumed migratory wildlife.

2) Basildon might leave much to be desired, but it gave us Depeche Mode.

3) The citizens of Essex have a self-deprecating sense of humor that can leave you in stitches. Plus, there’s a sense of community that you don’t find elsewhere. My Essex mates remain the gold standard.