An Unexpected Walk to Allen House
What I like the January rain was the warm temperature, but it made it harder for outdoor adventures. I seized the chance to walk around the residential area near to the town centre. Houses in Western countries do not install fences or grills; people only lock their main doors, and they are ready to leave. Among the rows of houses, I noted a lush of green right behind the crossroads. Must be a park or playground, I thought. Out of curiosity, I headed to find out.
How this could be the playground when the entrances were barricaded? On the display board showed pictures of squirrels and hedgehogs, but there was only untrimmed grass growing miserably behind the fence and the slides were left untouched.
This did not mean that the area was completely isolated. Near to the playground was a multi-level public carpark which was fully occupied for the day. There was a pathway that led to a basketball court, where teens in white blouse happily cheered as a basketball went into the hoop. Would they ever feel cold in the winter? No. For them, the sunny weather was as precious to them as it was for me.
Aside the youthful laughter, the benches provided a tranquil retreat from the busy schedule. A woman was playing catch with her dog in an open field behind the basketball court. Walking further through a low arch doorway, I found some traces to the past.
Allen House’s Garden with No Flowers
There was once a 17th century lawyer named Anthony Allen who owned a mansion in Guildford. From the map layout, the mansion included an expansive garden and avenue, fountain and a summerhouse. So where was the mansion? It had been long demolished and was replaced by modern buildings, such as the Royal Grammar School. The only link to the ground's history was the mini garden behind the basketball court.
The garden was painted a layer of blue hue. Everything was dry and lifeless except for a large fir tree. In the middle was what the locals called the Jabberwocky Labyrinth, surrounded by citrus plants with two reflective domes protruding from the ground. Too bad it was barricaded by fences. There was a narrow path that guided visitors to walk through the raised garden arches surrounded by flowerless plants and dried brown vines. The circular seats were empty, enhancing more of the melancholic mood. This place might be livelier in spring when the flowers showed their vibrant petals.
I wanted to visit the ground’s café, Hideaway. What a befitting name. Yet I did not expect a signboard to obstruct the way towards the deck, stating:
Close on Mondays and Sunday, Open from Tuesday to Saturday
An unfortunate timing indeed. I should have come another day.
Return to Hideaway Café
I returned to the café once the rain ceased. The basketball court was void of life and no one brought their dogs out for a walk. It was just me, walking alongside the brick wall.
The Foxenden Quarry was intended to hide people underneath these underground tunnels that were strong enough to resist the air raids attacks. Chalk was the primary material for constructing the tunnel, stable enough to support the structure. After a short period of usage, the tunnel was closed in 1944. What remains today are the brick walls; there is no trace of tunnels to the underground.
The café this afternoon only hosted a few customers indoors, as the tables on the deck were drenched by the rain. On the counter served cakes protected by dome-shaped food cover and sourdough breads in the transparent display cabinet. The minimalistic design of the café filled with walnut and oak coloured furniture gave a spacious impression. Each table had one mini succulent plant, like a companion for those who came alone. They had a creative way to reuse newspaper as wallpaper by adding doodles onto the plastered on the wall. They sold local-made products on sit, such as jam, soap, and watercolour postcards. Acrylic paintings on the wall were original artwork painted by local talents.
I ordered a cup of latte, at a fair price. Taking out my notepad, I wrote my observations in a free flow method. It was proven that writing in an unfamiliar environment and method can bring surprises. Look, I could pour words on paper. The only noises were the acoustic songs played in the background and the baristas’ soft chatter.
The sky remained a shade of grey, but what was left in the mug was milk foam. I gave the barista a word of gratitude before making my way to the campus library. Someone was playing in the basketball court, as I could hear the ball hitting the ground in a rhythmic pace.
Date of Visitation: 8 Jan 2023 & 14 Jan 2023
Allen House
Opening Hours: 8am-dusk
Address: Station Rd, Sawbridgeworth CM21 9JX
Hideaway Café
Opening Hours: 8:30 am – 3pm (Tues to Fri); 10am - 3pm
Address: Allen House Pavilion, Guildford GU1 4AZ
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