Leatherhead AHEAD - from the Archives

A BUSINESSMAN'S VIEW OF THE SNAGS FACED BY SHOPPERS
Leatherhead? Advertiser 2 March 1994

Leatherhead retailer Tom Spoors of Knit One, Purl One gives his view of the current state of the town.

Is it me? Is it them? Is there a war being fought out which no one is aware of? Or could it be that everyone is in on the secret except me?

Think of a stranger to Leatherhead trying to take his wife, 2.4 children and a Volvo on a quiet afternoon shopping expedition. The demands which they make are not huge - shoes, wool, some crockery, fresh bread, computer games, ice cream and a couple of bottles of wine. Will they get them? Yes, but not in Leatherhead, even though all of the goods are available there. To the local populace, much less the visitor, the place is a fortress. Roads replace moats; blank walls, office blocks and railway embankments are curtain walls.

The entrance to the High Street has a portcullis in the form of a locked barrier, the keys of which are banked. Secure as a goldsmith's vault, and as accessible.

Parking, while not luxurious, is available. The problem is getting into the tight spaces and opening the doors of the car. Someone somewhere wants to keep the fort secure, and whoever it is it succeeding.

Not that parking is a problem for the touring visitor. The major exasperation lies in finding the place. There are plenty of signs indicating the general direction to Leatherhead, to the town centre and the Swan Centre. None of them say "Leatherhead Town Centre" or "Leatherhead Swan Centre". Where does it begin and end?

The only possible conclusion we can draw from all this is that there is some dark secret harboured in the town. Something is there which camouflage experts have carefully hidden inside a plethora of signs carrying masses of data but no information.

What could be this dark secret that Leatherhead is hiding? Perhaps the answer lies in the sign on the Epsom Road. This shows Headley, Mickleham and Box Hill to the left, Lower Ashtead Business Parks to the right and, straight ahead, Crematorium!

Not a fortress: a necropolis!