Not quite a democracy...

Did you know that an election for a London public body will take place next month with just 160 voters from a resident population of over 100,000? I live in the area but am unable to vote, as this is one of the last remaining elections in which a property qualification applies. Not owning the requisite half acre of land, I am disenfranchised. If you lived round here, you probably would be too.

The election takes place on the 27^th February and is for the position of Verderer of Epping Forest.

Epping Forest is London’s largest open space. Misguided West Londoners tend to believe that this distinction belongs to Wimbledon Common, Richmond Park or Hampstead Heath but they are wrong. These spaces may be more famous for their wombles, deer and cruising gentlemen, but Epping Forest has more space, more trees and much, much more antiquity.

A direct descendent from the Forest of Essex (which, nine hundred years ago, covered the entire county), Epping Forest is one of only 5 sites in Britain with more than 2,000 ancient trees (containing a remarkable 50,000 trees over 400 years old).

Despite the impressive flora, the word forest, in this context, means a royal hunting ground, not a woodland. In order to protect the deer and boar prized by the monarch, a discrete legal code evolved known as forest law. Forest law was enforced through a dedicated network of courts (the Forest Eyre and the Swainmote), and built on the network of Verderers.

Verderers were the people who were responsible for maintaining the ‘vert’ (the vegetation of the forest; from which the name derives) and the ‘venison’ (the hunting animals which relied on the vert) for the King. They acted as a cross between magistrates (enforcing sanctions for infringement) and administrators (approving sale of timber and regulating enclosure). While elected by the local freemen, their duty was to the King.

Five hundred years have passed since forest law drifted into disuse and the role of Verderer is redundant through most of England. A handful of us, however, still get the right to elect four Verderers every seven years. Well, we do if we fulfil the legal requirements to be registered as a Commoner of the Forest. These are that you “you must own or occupy not less than half an acre of land not covered by buildings within the ancient boundary of Epping Forest… as set forth in the perambulation made by authority of Parliament in the 17th year of King Charles I.”

I’m OK on the boundary – the official map published by the City of London corporation may not include my house (and my road is marked as an unpaved track) but it’s clearly where I now live. However, my garden is about half an acre short of the required half acre. Bizarrely, I could stand - but wouldn't then be able to vote for myself.

In 1878, Epping Forest was disafforested. This meant that, legally, the forest was no longer a royal hunting ground and forest law (in practice, hardly ever enforced) no longer applied. Instead, the Epping Forest Act 1878 handed stewardship of the Forest (slightly surreally) to the City of London Corporation: the governing body of the square mile of the City of London; itself the world’s oldest continuously elected local Government with a Royal Charter dating back to 1327.

In 1971, all elements of forest law (by then, Britain's oldest statute) was abolished… with the exception of the appointment of verderers for the three remaining former royal forests (the New Forest, the Forest of Dean and Epping Forest). In these three forests, a tiny thread of Norman legislation remains.

So, should you have half an acre of land (not covered by buildings, remember) in this this area, then now is the time to register. As you can see, you've got until 29th January to get your name added and to become part of nine hundred years of forest history.

If, on the other hand, you would rather simply go for a walk in the woods, then you could do that instead.  Epping Forest is about a ten minute walk from Trainsofthought Towers and the reason I'm thinking about it this week is that, regardless of how it’s governed, it is stunning in the snow. On Sunday, I took my rather chilly three-year old daughter for a rather chilly walk. The trees were perfectly traced with snow and the entire landscape was monochrome. It was beautiful. Then we threw snowballs.