Distant Day Out - Banstead and Epsom

This is another post I didn't get round to writing - yes, there were quite a few. This one is special because it combines three different trips I made during the summer to random suburbs in Surrey. A few of them were intended for the OPZ series I was doing a few months ago, when I tried to maximise my Oyster card use by travelling to random suburbs outside of London for free, so at least you'll get to see what I may have written at the time. Anything

Banstead

Banstead started out as a small village, first mentioned in Anglo-Saxon times, and existed for several years as part of the Manor of Banstead. It was also part of the parish of Banstead in medieval times, covering large chunks of Surrey down to Tadworth. Yet the village itself only expanded when the railways came in 1865, more on that in a bit, and since then, Banstead has expanded into a small town just outside London. 

Truth be told, I was intending to get back to the town centre and take some photos, but I never did, and once I left, I didn't really have a desire to come back. It does look like another typical suburb, and in fairness I should have been well aware of that by then.

   

However, I did visit the charming Banstead Wildlife Field, which does what it says on the tin. It's a field, at times quite disheveled and foresty, but not quite wildlife-like. Even the field's website acknowledges it's "beautiful but neglected". I'd argue it's not a "safari field", though - it's still quite far off the Serengeti - but that doesn't diminish how lovely it is. 

I then walked for a while...and the rain began. It poured a lot, and I felt quite hopeless at the time because I'd realised how pointless visiting Banstead for a blogpost was. Standing by a bus stop by a heavily used intersection, contemplating my life up to now. 

 

I walked through the rain to get to Banstead station because the bus would be no good for me. It's a very quiet station - just under 200,000 annual users - with a single track, no facilities, a wall of nature to one side. 

  

Yeah, this would have been a shit blogpost on its own.

Epsom Downs

One stop beyond Banstead, at the end of the line, lies Epsom Downs station. This might be the most aimless station I've ever been to. Arguably, the only reason you'd even end up here is for the horse racing at the...Epsom Downs Racecourse, home of the Epsom Derby, but even then, you're a 20 minute walk away from here. Otherwise, you're surrounded by bland suburbia and a cul-de-sac. And part of the station is occupied by a nursery.

 

Horse racing has occurred in this part of Epsom since 1661 - turns out, there's no arena, it's just a spot amongst the...Epsom Downs, which is a geographical region as well, part of the Surrey Hills. The racecourse is probably most famous for being the site of Emily Davison throwing herself in front of the king's horse as part of a protest for the Suffragette movement back in 1913. 

I wanted to get down to the racecourse area to take some photos and maybe get a wonderful blogpost on Epsom - this was the second of three visits I made to the Epsom area - but it didn't really pan out. Turns out there's no pavement alongside the main route to the racecourse, and when it's raining heavily - as it was that day - it's also incredibly muddy and unpleasant.

There were no horses, the drivers were not careful 

You may be asking, why the hell wouldn't I turn back. And I did...after a DPD driver splashed me. Yes, I remember that part clear as day. The thing is, I wasn't particularly in the mood to travel to Epsom ever so often just to maybe write a blogpost on it, and this was arguably my best shot. The fact it was my best is a good indicator of how unlikely I was going to write it in the first place.

(Technically I did blog about these two places, it's just I made it into a vent.) 

Epsom (part 1)

The first time I went to Epsom, I was feeling rather awkward, which culminated in me cutting my trip short. To be fair, it's not like the blogpost itself was going to get anywhere, and I did quickly realise I'd need more than one visit to the place to fully cover it. 

 

When I visited for the first time, it was mostly just a walk around the town centre, including the railway station with its glassy front, the lovely clocktower, and this sculpture depicting a horse and its jockey. I even made a trip to the local Rosebery Park, named for former Prime Minister Lord Rosebery. Rosebery, a resident of Epsom, gifted the council 12 acres of land in 1913, so long as it was free to the public; it includes a lovely lake, which was sadly algae-infested when I visited back in July. 

   

Otherwise, though, there really wasn't much else to see in Epsom, unless I headed off to Epsom Common, or the Downs. The main issue was that unless I wanted to get the bus - and who would - I'd need to walk down to the Downs and back, then to the common, and the whole process could take hours. It's surprising how big Epsom actually is, considering most only know it as a slightly posh commuter town.

 

So, feeling increasingly awkward and socially anxious, I abandoned my plans and head off to the station, slightly ashamed I didn't actually achieve anything with my visit. Another day of the summer break wasted, and I barely had any photos for proof I'd been there.

Epsom (part 2)

I was feeling somewhat better come September, even if the blog was at an all-time productive nadir. This trip to Epsom was spontaneous, but I'm glad I went in the end.

Having accepted the Downs were effectively off limits, I went to the common this time round. If I wanted to blog about Epsom, this was necessary, because without it, Epsom wouldn't exist as it does now.

   

You see, Epsom had humble beginnings. It was initially an Anglo-Saxon village, and had nothing special about it, until a sudden discovery in 1618 changed its fortunes forever. Henry Wicker was a local villager who was looking after animals on the common, when he came across a spring. Unbeknownst to him, the spring contained hydrated magnesium sulphate, which the animals hated but Wicker loved. He claimed they had healing properties, and Epsom salt (MgSO₄•7H₂O) quickly became famous. Taverns were built, even King Charles II visited Epsom at one point. Epsom became a popular spa town, but rivals such as Tunbridge Wells meant Epsom wasn't as unique, and its spa status slowly declined. Yet the initial hype and success meant Epsom became wealthier, enabling it to become the town it is today.

   

Epsom salts are today used as the main component of many bath salts. Epsom itself, though, isn't particularly salt mad nowadays. There is the well that marks the original source of the salt, hidden away amongst houses, and there's even an information display you can read. Otherwise, it's almost nothing.

That's not to take away from the common itself, which is a lovely open space. When I visited, the weather was somewhat pleasant, and some photos, like of this local stream, thus came off very well. There isn't all that much else to say without mentioning the original spring, though. 

   

Eventually, I wandered into Ashtead Common, which is much the same except the name is different. It soon started raining, so I headed down to Ashtead station, and made my way home from there. 

And with that, I'd finally managed to bring an end to arguably the most irritating blogging experience I'd never managed to write about. Until now.