The battle for Mudchute Farm

At an embittered, haphazardly organized Tower Hamlets council meeting on 16 July, emotions are running high. Although the proceedings are due to begin at 7pm, the chamber at Whitechapel Town Hall is already full, leaving many of the public visibly angered that a mere 20 seats had been made available for the last-minute meeting about the future of Mudchute farm. My written promise of a press pass for the Chamber doesn’t materialise, leaving me to jostle for space. 

Led into an adjacent overflow room, I am among roughly 50 staunch allies of the Isle of Dogs’ cherished city farm, vocal critics of mayor Lutfur Rahman and a bully-bred dog that snores incessantly throughout the speaker's excruciating opening recitation of chamber protocol. Eventually, words from the mayor himself: ‘‘Everyone here is fully committed to Mudchute,’’ Rahman declares, an opening designed to appease. ‘‘You do a fantastic job on a voluntary basis…but just because you don’t get what you’re asking for, [it] does not mean Mudchute is going to close.’’ There are groans, eyerolls and several jeers.

At 32 acres, Mudchute Park and Farm is one of Europe's largest city farms. Home to over 100 animals, it is marooned deep within the Isle of Dogs’ dense labyrinth of new build homes, enveloped behind a perimeter of trees and sandwiched between a park and an Asda superstore. It is a site seemingly impossible to stumble across unless actively sought out. But it's regularly visited: 250,000 people a year. Within Mudchute’s hive of activity are thousands of toddlers exploding with jubilation at the groan of llama, rare-bred Nubian goats, breadmaking classes, animal petting sessions, therapy donkeys, a coffee shop, a nursery and staff that are helpful, unassuming and visibly content. There is no entrance fee. It is an objectively happy place. But locals are worried it could all be lost.