Rather prophetically, on arrival in the car park we were greeted by a madman (aka Rhum) claiming to have seen alpacas, camels, railways but no road crossings. ‘Care in the community?’ we wondered. Fortunately, SH3 took its usual view of ‘live and let live’ and were subsequently treated to a cleverly crafted trail that used many smaller and unmarked paths unknown even to those who thought they knew the area well. We passed several examples of interesting hospital architecture, characteristic of the philanthropic times of the early 1900’s and the way in which the system incarcerated people under a number of unpleasant labels.

  As Bigfoot subsequently told us, the wider West Park/Horton site was the largest psychiatric facility in Europe and possibly the World at that time. [Ed: Perhaps most of the crazy people in the world lived in Surrey?]  On the trail it was possible to see evidence of old orchards, presumably where fruit was grown for the over 2,000 patients that were once accommodated here; farmland (where crops were grown and livestock grazed) and trackbeds which supported the rails for an internal railway (such was the size and logistic challenge of the place). The railway was used to bring in construction materials as well for the delivery of coal once the hospitals were in operation. True to the pre-run circle briefing, we passed fields containing alpacas and camels. All this before the pubs had opened or the beer meister’s vehicle had been raided and any beer consumed. The trail (or safari as I was considering it at this point) weaved carefully among the pockets of housing and the green spaces with prediction difficult and the front runners well-challenged. Despite the recent weather the paths were generally firm underfoot with some checking interludes over open grassy fields. I look forward to seeing a GPS track of the route. Had I tracked mine, it would have closely resembled the wanderings of somebody being treated with strongly psychedelic medication. It was loosely a left-hander with excellent checks. A shorter trail was laid for those so inclined and, apparently, the full trail was just under 5 miles in length.

  The route took us past Horton Park golf course at one point, with Le Pro taking full advantage, picking-up golf balls wherever he found them. I tried to tell him that if they were on the fairway they were probably still important to their owners, but he was not for listening. You can take the man out of Scotland! At one point on the trail a local asked a couple of us what all the shouting and running was about. Our brief explanation was met with the response – is that why there is a man chasing people with a golf club? I wondered whether an ex-patient from the hospitals had joined us for the day and thought nothing more of it at that time (see later). After over an hour of very rewarding effort and enjoyable outdoor space we arrived back at the car park for a welcome beer (or two – I was not driving!).

  Down Downs were awarded to five visitors including Steve, Thong Bird, Elizabeth and a couple that I did not manage to get the names of. Dormouse was congratulated for reaching the 80^th year milestone (he now being in the excellent company of other SH3 octogenarians). I believe that he may have used the Tesco Voucher that he received for his birthday to procure several rather good cakes from Mo (but I may have misheard). Mrs Robinson was punished for having a smartphone (these being banned in psychiatric institutions) and Uncle Gerry was focally challenged (that being the least of his issues). Luca was predicted to acquire much money in his lifetime and there was a strange sojourn into the world of Trotters Independent Traders with Rhum temporarily acquiring the moniker of Del Boy. Sadly our SH3 resident Rodney (aka Teddy Bear) was not recognized or rewarded with a down down and the large number of candidates for the role of Trigger was overwhelming closely followed by Uncle Albert (aka Dormouse etc). The RA swiftly moved into a bestiality phase, insisting that various participants in the circle recite verses of a suspect song with very questionable harmonies. Lastly the lunatic with the golf club turned up in the circle and Rhum was rewarded with a 7-iron for services to mental health (don’t let the facts get in the way…). His put down response illustrated very clearly that he is still in full control of his faculties – ‘but I play left-handed and this is a right-handed club’! At this point the men in white coats arrived and we all complied in relocating to the Jolly Coopers. If this write-up makes any sense to you then I suggest strongly that you ask for the dose of the medication to be increased significantly.

  On On,
  Stilton