The sound of hearing the words ‘East Grinstead’ gives me a very special tingle deep inside. For my entire life, I have grown up knowing that these syllables resembled home, comfort, family. But the irony of it all is that I have never actually been there.
It’s a town about 14 miles from where I was brought up. It is approximately the same distance south of the house as central London is north. And with plenty of other urban settlements sitting between us, there has never been much need for myself and the town to meet.
However, it has the privileged position of being the terminus of my train line that I use on most occasions for short or long distance travel. And, because of the layout of the British rail network and the dominance of London as a transport hub, I find myself always searching for any East Grinstead train.
So, with such a special significance for me, I thought it was about time that I actually ventured to the place and see what it has to offer.
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Although it would have been most appropriate to take Southern Rail’s journey to the destination, I decided to drive as the A22, the nearest main road to me, runs straight there.
I chose Good Friday to go and what made the day especially good was that all parking was free. Finding a car park, just off the highstreet, I left my trusty Nissan Micra called Mary, and embarked on discovering the unknown.
The above photograph is what I was greeted with. I could have been in any town in any county in England. Uninspired, with the highstreet, as well as feeling mighty peckish, I headed for the cafe on the other side of the road, called the Olive Grove.
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Again, very typical joint. Waitress didn’t smile but gave prompt service in between her discussions in a European language that I did not recognise. Kind of wish I’d brought a book to read because I was getting quite bored while tucking into my sausage sarnie and sugary cup of tea. With nothing else to do, I opted to people watch.
And what a community this superficially anonymous tea room turned out to be. Come 10am it was a hive of action. Old men speaking the same unrecognisable language. Young families with buggies coming to grab a morning coffee. Then it was delivery time – boxes of ciabatta were plonked on the floor by the van driver before the chef unceremoniously kicked them, two at a time, down a cellar hatch. His face displayed emotions completely isolated from those that would be evoked in me if I was listening to my stock thump and scrape as they fell.
After this amusement, I settled my bill and continued my voyage. I made one fatal error, however. I forgot to use their toilet. I only realised this some minutes later as I was passing Martell’s department store and felt that it was a bit late for me to go back and use the facilities. So, this shaped the remainder of my time in the centre of town.
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Despite the obvious discomfort, everything else I saw of East Grinstead was really rather nice. The top part of the highstreet was a lot older and had been closed off for some Good Friday church worship. The fact I found most interesting was that I learned that the town was twinned with a tiny little village in Austria called Schwaz, and this is where I stayed when I first learned to ski with my father many years ago.
Eventually I completed a loop back to the car park I was using and to my relief I encountered some very nice, and recently updated, public toilets. There was just one other place I wanted to explore before leaving East Grinstead and it is possibly the reason why many in the 21st Century have heard of it.
Saint Hill Manor is located in the countryside outskirts of the town and I found it by memorising the directions I had gleaned from the Google Maps app on my phone.
Saint Hill Manor is an 18th century manor house and estate that can be used for a variety of functions. It also happens to be the global headquarters of Scientology.
This was very obvious from the ornate signs on arrival at the manor. What was far more noticeable was the extent of the security. A number of CCTV cameras are paraded at the gates and as I drove towards the car park I immediately caught the attention of a solitary chap with a clipboard.
I immediately felt a bit awkward, rocking up invited to gawp at the headquarters of a global religion, infamous within western media. So I decided to just make my visit short and sweet. A quick tour of the car park taught me a lot about the place.
The extent of the manor, I could only see a couple of the buildings and my online research has shown that it was a lot grander than what I could see.
Secondly, if you are wanting to get hold of a minibus, contact the Scientologists. It seemed like half of England’s supply of Ford Transit minibuses formed part of the organization’s fleet.
I half thought about getting out and taking some photos but thought that it is a bit rude to intrude on someone’s religion like that, as if they are animals in a zoo.
So, I turned around, left the vicinity and left the East Grinstead area. Interesting place mixing modern and old. Could do with more public toilets though…
If there is somewhere nearby to you that you think, hmmm, never been there. Go there. You might find somewhere amazing. Or you might find an interesting way to bust a couple of hours.
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