In a postwar estate known as ‘The Nunny’, inhabitants occupy properties just several yards from their more affluent counterparts in nearby Scartho village. One six-foot-tall wall literally separates the two areas in the town of Grimsby, blocking off roads and walkways that previously linked them.
“It’s the posh-poor divide,” said Serenity Colley, 37. “It has been there since I’ve known. I don’t think they’ll bring it down because I suspect they’ll want to mix with us.”
Data from government figures shows how deep inequality can run, at times across nothing more than a few metres of tarmac, a hedge row or a wall. Years of budget cuts and underinvestment mean almost two-thirds of local authorities now contain a neighbourhood ranking as one of the most deprived in the country.
This spread of deprivation has led to a significant rise in the number of places where disadvantaged and well-off residents find themselves as immediate neighbours. In 2019, just 65 of the poorest neighbourhoods adjoined one of the least deprived. That figure rose to 119 in the most recent data.
At this Lincolnshire site, the divide is the biggest in the UK and starkly obvious. The barrier transcends being just a symbolic division; it creates tangible problems for daily routines.
“People strive to maintain a well-kept home and garden, and then you live opposite that,” said one local, gesturing towards the corroded metal wall.
Within Centre4, staff emphasise that need transcends postcodes. “Where you live doesn’t necessarily indicate your personal struggles,” said director a community leader.
Regardless of ranking in the lowest 10% for income, employment, education, health and crime, the estate boasts a fierce loyalty and feeling of togetherness among its residents. Meanwhile, the neighbouring area ranks among the least deprived 10% nationally.
This pattern is repeated across the country. The Stanhope area in Ashford, Kent, a mid-century overspill estate, is in the most disadvantaged tenth of neighbourhoods in the country. It is immediately adjacent by large houses built in the 2000s that are in the wealthiest tenth for job prospects and living environment.
“They may possess larger properties, but here there’s a stronger community,” commented Phil Hockley, 63. “It’s likely a lot of people over there never even talk to each other.”
The economic gap is clear: an typical three-bedroom house sells for about £275,000 on the estate, while across the divide comparable properties go for about £410,000.
Residents speak of a palpable sense of neglect. “This part of the community gets ignored,” stated resident Susan Riley-Nevers. “In this area our facilities have slowly been taken away, and the majority of the community problems here are related to poverty.”
The rise in these ‘deprivation divides’ paints a picture of an increasingly segregated England, where wealth and deprivation are often awkwardly close neighbours.
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