You expect a certain inertness from a chimney. A billowing chimney blowing in the wind seems to go against the laws of physics. But then, these particular chimneys, flapping like brightly coloured flags over the smudge-coloured semis of south London, aren't your common or garden chimneys. These are the Che Guevara of chimneys. They're here to save us all.
They belong to Bedzed (Beddington Zero Energy Development), the UK's most revolutionary housing. Bar none. For a start, Bedzed is Britain's first carbon-neutral neighbourhood, which means that it contributes zilch to global warming. You could go crazy with the shower thermostat, switch on every light in the house, yet sleep soundly, safe in the knowledge that you're still saving the planet.
It's got every eco-angle covered, much of it born of common sense, such as facing homes within 20 degrees of south, to catch the sun. The development is built on an old sewage works, so, yes, it's angelically brownfield. It's built with renewable or recycled materials, mostly sourced from within a 35-mile radius, to save petrol.
But there are nifty inventions, too, specifically created for the project: for example, the magic chimneys, which are two-way, so warm stale air exhaled from each home heats incoming cool air, caught as each chimney rotates. There's super insulation, triple glazing, rainwater recyclers and solar panels, and so on, too. You name it, it's here.
But Bedzed starts making real sense as a neighbourhood, designed as a giant machine to save the most energy, and impact as little as possible on the environment. Remove any part and the result's not as good. It's socially inclusive, too: the 82 homes mix social, rentable and private housing with live-work spaces, and are affordable (£110,000 for a one-bedder, a snip in London). Like I said, every angle covered. There should be a halo hanging over the place.
Its inventor comes in the form of a cuddly boffin with a beard called Bill. Bill Dunster is like a kindly physics professor who's been holed up in his lab for far too long. He speaks with such incisive passion - "Do you see? Do you see?" - you can't help but smile even if you're a little shaky on what exactly it is he's talking about.
It's this intensity alone that's driven him and his small team for 10 years. There have been no helpful calls from developers - "Noooo. They can't do this kind of stuff. They don't believe in it." And no handouts from the government - "Not a thing. They can't be innovative. They're always lobbied by the house builders, who can build anything and sell it because demand is so high. There's no pressure. They think, 'Why take a risk when you don't have to?'"
Which is why Britain finds itself in the housing crisis that it's in. Even now, with the issue so high on the agenda, we'll be lucky if we get, say, a solar panel or good insulation in all new homes. Pure tokenism. Fiddling while the planet burns. Politics was far too slow for Dunster.
But do you want to know the really revolutionary thing about Bedzed? Sure, the place is as pure as the driven snow. But the real point is that it's virtuous and sexy. Dunster, an architect, knows that a smart (and sustainable) wood floor gets the punters drooling. "The green scene's all beard and sandals. How do you get away from all that self-denial?"
There's no hair shirt required here. It's high-density, but you don't notice it. Houses and flats are cunningly interlocked, most with gardens. There's no high-fibre design. It doesn't look as if it's meant to do you good. It looks devilish, with loft-style, double-height spaces and vogueish, slinky curves, cocking a snook at the mean Tudorbethan-meets-Belmarsh commuter development next door. "The UK is like a drug addict. How do you wean it off fossil fuels? You do it so it's fun, and so you don't really notice it."
So it suits slightly lazy ecowarriors such as Marleen Stumpel, who bought a three-bedroom maisonette last year. "I guess I'm like most people," she says. "I want to do things for the environment, but I have a busy life. So I want it to be really convenient. I want it on a plate." And so it is: if you want the whole Good Life thing, it's there (there's even a green lifestyles officer on site). "But you don't have to get involved," says Stumpel. "Most of the green stuff you don't even notice."
The homes work a little differently from other homes, though, so there is some swotting up to do. For instance, there is no, I repeat no, central heating. Not in the conventional sense. Instead, the very architecture attracts and conserves heat, and provides ventilation. You must learn how many windows to open and close, and how to adjust the chimneys, to maintain a particular temperature. It's about 18C inside; it won't ever be tropical - well, not until global warming turns Mitcham into Mombasa. "But when it was freezing round Christmas," says Stumpel, "it was fine. I've never thought, 'Oh God, I'm going back to that cold house.'"
Most residents, however, are ordinary Joes attracted by Bedzed's sharp looks. "I've got to be honest, it was nothing to do with being green," says Rob Starsmore, who moved in last May with wife Julie. "We drove past by chance, thought, 'That looks weird', and popped into the show home. It was the high ceilings and space that grabbed us. We were living in your typical developer's home at the time, with tiny windows and boxy rooms."
But maybe Bedzed's popularity has been the most revolutionary thing. It knocked Dunster for six, though now he's taking advantage of it. Having found the holy grail - cheap, high-density housing that saves the planet, looks sexy and, for the closet suburbanite in every one of us, has gardens, too - he's taking on the big boys.
In pure anti-corporate style, he's bypassing conventional developers for the democracy of the internet. Anyone passionate about having a Zed home should get in touch. As soon as a critical mass builds up, so the next Zed development gets built. And so on and so on until the world is saved (on his drawing board are plans to extend the Zed idea to schools, hospitals, skyscrapers).
And the funding? For Bedzed, Dunster was helped by The Peabody Trust, London's innovative housing association, and BioRegional, an eco-investment group. For the next, he's organising self-build mortgages for residents, so the financial risk is spread between everyone. You'd be like a shareholder in your own neighbourhood.
It's ingenious: tapping into the power of the raw consumer, making eco-homes as easy to buy as an organic swede. Now, that's how real revolutions start, you see. By playing capitalism at its own game.
