Leatherhead

Earlier in the month, we paid what has become a rare visit to Leatherhead, an old town just south the M25 and just north of the River Mole. With a crossing said to have been used, at least once, by Queen Elizabeth I. 

The motive for the visit was a desire to inspect the supplies of lamb joints - legs and shoulders - to be had at the Tesco's there - our nearest Tesco's of any size, although nothing like the store at Ryde, on the Isle of Wight - and to inspect the supply of rotary washing line accessories at the B&Q next door. With Homebase gone, we in Epsom are down to the rather different Wickes and Travis Perkins - supplemented by the modest, if still useful, Robert Dyas of the High Street, now co-located with Rymans.

It turned out that the supply of lamb joints in this Tesco's was modest compared with that in Ryde, inferior to that in our rather larger Sainsbury's, so they could be crossed off our list.

And the choice of replacement washing lines of sufficient length - 60m - was modest too, with nothing steel cored - which we thought meant less of the stretch which has plagued the line in place. But they did have the natty plastic contraption snapped above, in which to plant your rotary, complete with built in spirit level. Although thinking about it now, maybe putting the pole in its hole and applying a regular spirit level to the pole might be more effective.

There is also the consideration, which surfaced later, that I was confusing stretch in the line with the four arms of the rotary getting out of their proper right angled alignment, the provision for folding complicating the provision of connecting struts - which are, in consequence, absent. So the arms can just flap about, which can result in some of the sections of line sagging.

Tesco's and B&Q done, we moved onto the Swan Centre, in Leatherhead proper. Not having been there for a while, I was pleasantly surprised by the width of the parking bays. Probably because they are wider than the ones at the Rose car park in Kingston, the only other multi-storey that we make much use of.

Downstairs, we came across a sort of cross between a hut and a market barrow, operated, I think, by the Rotary, and offering a selection of free books, plus a few OS maps. I was reminded of Ian Serraillier, a childhood read, also one of BH's, as it turned out. To be found at reference 3.

His name has clearly stuck, but none of the other books mentioned at reference 3 brings back any memories. With no-one left to ask, I don't suppose I am ever going to know. On the other hand, we did not have a television at the relevant time, and I don't think I ever saw either of the two adaptations of this, his most well known story.

BH does not remember in her own case, but she is fairly sure we never fed him to our own boys.

But I actually went away with two nearly new maps. We already had a nearly new copy of the one on the right, so that makes one for me and one for her. Not such a bad thing, as it is a map we get a fair bit of use from, and BH has her own filing arrangements, apart, that is, from the proper ones. While the one on the left covers a part of the country I know practically nothing about, although the name 'Perranporth', top left, is familiar. Maybe I visited it as a child on holiday: it was a long way in those days, but I think we made it at least twice.

I associated to the curious linear maps the AA used to print off for you, to get you through the intricacies of cross country motoring before the invention of motorways. Being stuck on Exeter by-pass on a busy Saturday being one of the highlights of the journey. Complete, as I recall, with policemen on point duty, directing the traffic, but maybe the memory is making that bit up.

I was also reminded of Charlestown, last noticed at the end of 2024, at reference 4. In the Duchy, but nothing much to do with the monarch or his eldest son.

Down the bottom, the Mole was pretty low, although you would not know that from this snap. To think that it has flooded the houses adjacent in our time, with sandbags everywhere.

There was a reason for the depth gauge attached to the ancient bridge - complete with triangular holes let into the parapet where pedestrians could shelter from motor traffic.

Contradicted by both Street View and Satellite View, which say semi-circular holes. I also learn that the present structure is not that old, with an older bridge being replaced or rebuilt in 1782-3.

At least Gemini agrees that triangular was more common, certainly in older bridges, where the masons simply continued the triangular cutwaters up into the parapets. He was prompted by supplementaries to tell me about the old bridges at Staverton, Huntingdon and St. Ives - mostly triangular. But I suspect he has generalised from the building theory built on triangular cutwaters, rather than actually taking a count, sample or otherwise. 

I then remember about the bridge over a branch of the Dart at Newbridge, and he digs up nice visual confirmation of his cutwater story. Nevertheless, maybe I will dig deeper.

I then moved onto the Elizabeth connection, and it seems entirely possible that her progress over the river in spate - something it is well known for - was held up. Although not properly documented. But I do now know all about the 600 line poem at reference 5, probably, in large part, the origin of the name of the public house adjacent to the bridge, the Running Horse.

Somewhat later, I found a clutch of Skelton words in OED, corroboration of Gemini having said that he had given his name to his particular, rather coarse style of poetry.

On the day however, we were not attracted by their offer and climbed back up the hill to see what we could do for lunch in town, getting as far as sitting down in the café at the very top of town where we had once taken liver and bacon, but invisible on this day, before deciding that Wetherspoon's would be more suitable. As indeed it was.

Jaipur bitter (previously taken in the Epsom branch), steak pudding (a little small, but it served and two would have been too many), scampi and chips for her (possibly a first, fish and chips being off). Gravy on the side, as it proper, serving as a dip when the last chips were a little cool. Pleasant service, neither too crowded nor too noisy. 

And, to round off the proceedings, someone in the Swan Centre who could actually play a bit on the Stahl piano. Perhaps I should have scored it, the best I could do previously being the near miss at reference 7.

PS 1: a sample from 1712 printing of the Skelton poem.

PS 2: this morning's scientific digression was prompted by Bryan at reference 8. I have been reminded that Portuguese men'o war were not jellyfish, in fact they are collective animals, and I refreshed my knowledge of the many and varied cnidarians, these last having been around for some 600my - that is to say from before the Cambrian explosion of life forms.

I give Gemini the last word. Entirely plausible and entirely unchecked.

References

Reference 1: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Leatherhead.

Reference 2: https://psmv6.blogspot.com/2026/07/fake-204.html. The washing line project has been around for a while now, kicked off by a brief notice here.

Reference 3: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ian_Serraillier.

Reference 4: https://psmv5.blogspot.com/2024/12/granite.html.

Reference 5: The Tunning of Elynour Rummyng - John Skelton - c1550. An early eighteenth century printing is available at the Internet Archive.

Reference 6: https://psmv5.blogspot.com/2023/01/leatherhead.html. The liver and bacon day: a rather similar expedition.

Reference 7: https://psmv4.blogspot.com/2019/09/piano-26.html.

Reference 8: Venomous sea creatures plague Europe’s warming beaches: More sightings of Portuguese men o’ war have coincided with high ocean temperatures caused by climate change - Kenza Bryan, Financial Times - 2026.

Reference 9: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Portuguese_man_o%27_war.

Reference 10: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cnidaria.

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