I first came upon Petworth on a beautiful autumn afternoon in 2003. It was 5th November - Guy Fawkes night, and the perfect weather for it - bright and sunny with that special light peculiar to English autumns - clarifying, but more than that. If I hadn't known the season from inside my cosy car, I might have thought it a summer's day - exquisite. And made more so by the glowing wine drop colours of the autumn leaves.
Having no sense of direction, I arrived from Guildford along the London Road only to make a left turn at The Stonemasons roundabout and finally arrive in Petworth via the Chichester road! What a nutter.
When I clambered out of my hire car in the free car park I had no idea where I was. I had arrived in Petworth on my way to see a customer of mine in Chichester. At the time I was working for Chris's wholesale fashion agency in Shepherds Bush, London - out on a road trip in search of new business. My customer in Chichester had recommended I try the town for a new account.
Having emerged from the car park via The Old Bakery into Golden Square, I paused to take in my surroundings. A pretty little square dominated by a large white building housing the local bank, a pretty florist sprouting foliage in the afternoon sun, a row of shops, not a soul in sight.
Eventually I stopped an old lady and asked fro directions to the High Street. "It's there dear, right in front of you."
And so it was, leading off from the square, a discreet, quiet little street - as quiet as the square by the looks of it. And so I made my way slowly in the sunshine, enjoying the luxury of stretching my legs after the unaccustomed driving.
I walked half way up the street until I ran out of shops. Still no ladies' boutique and, aware of my time, I turned on my heel intending to return to the car. (I wasn't very good at my job - having no heart for cold calling.)
As I turned I caught sight of a little courtyard down a narrow covered passageway (or Close, as we'd call it in Scotland). Timidly I started down the passage (I really am a wimp when it comes ot doing anything I think I shouldn't) only to come out on a delightful light filled space. Simply decorated with plain planters and gently fading shrubs, it appeared as an oasis of peace. I was moved (literally - too much of a scaredycat to hang around). I returned to my hire car with the thought "I want to live here" swirling around in my head.
Now I'll tell you something - I'm a Towny, I am. I've spent most of my adult life living in either Edinburgh or London. Actually I feel a bit of a cheat referring to Edinburgh as a town, somehow it still feels like a village. But that's probably because I grew up there - my backyard so to speak. But I'm still a Towny. I like my corner shop and I like being in the thick of things.
More to the point, the reason I'm a Towny is because the "country" in Scotland is pretty hardcore. I used to drive the Jenners Saab from Edinburgh down to the Borders to buy men's knitwear from the likes of Pringle and Ballantyne - yummy. Well I used to drive these country roads and I tell you there's feck all out there - I mean nothing - one wee croft stuck at a 45' angle to a hill with a few sheep grazing nearby, knowing that by late October it'll be knee deep in snow and your nearest neighbour is ten miles away. No thank you. Scared the living daylights out of me! Nah, I'm a sociable soul, I don't want ot live in the country.
But I did - I walked down Petworth High Street and I fell in love. Love at first sight - sure as I'm sitting here.
So I drove out on the Chichester Road with such thoughts circling my consciousness and my view saturated with all the glorious colours of the autumn Downs. As I drove over the Downs my thoughts turned to my mum who had died only a month before. I'd been grieving pretty dramatically over the previous week and Chris had sent me out on the road in the desperate hope that it might take my mind off things. I've been a huge fan of therapeutic driving ever since.
With tears in my eyes I said to mum "I wish you were here to see this view." To which came the reply: "I am here, I can see it."
Ooh the hairs on the back of my neck are all prickling just writing the words. I swear it was my mum's voice in my head. I talk to myself enough to know the difference. What inclines me to say that is the effect her words had on me. On hearing her voice I felt this immense sense of calm. Now I meditate and I've done a lot of New Agey stuff, I was brought up on it, so I know the sensation when I feel it and this was like an enormous blanket of calm - my mind was calm, I felt no sorrow, no pain. I knew for certain that everything was indeed "all alright" just as Susan Jeffers said.
I sailed along engulfed in this serene state through Chichester and on to Bournemouth where I couldn't wait ot check into my B&B and phone Chris.
"Hello darling, how's your day been?"
"We're moving. I've found this place, a little market town, you won't know it. It's called Petworth."
"Petworth? I know Petworth! I practically grew up in Petworth."
"Oh, well we're moving there."
"Well, what are we going to do? We can't commute to London. We'll have to think of something else to do, somewhere we can live over the shop."
And that dear readers is how we came to reside in Petworth.
And I write this as a warning to any unsuspecting soul who decides to stop and take a look instead of just passing on through. You will not escape. Just like the fairytale Brigadoon which so captivated then captured the young Gene Kelly, Petworth will lure you in with its gentle beauty and sly charm. In the seven years we have lived here I have met many like me who came and couldn't leave - bit like a Sussex version of Hotel California. Well, they were British boys weren't they?
Of course I do intend to leave (or we did, not sure it's possible now - but more of that later) and I wanted my Blog to be a testimonial to this magical town. Now I know. Not only am I an outsider but a foreigner too. I admit I was nervous when we first opened Therapy. I thought that my customers might be scary posh English ladies who would boss me around and treat me badly. (I was moving from London!)
Before any of my lovely customers take offence, let me assure you that this was not the case. The number of difficult customers I've had over the years I could probably count on both hands - not bad for a wee Scottish lass plonking herself down in the wilds of West Sussex. So I'd like to start my Ode to Petworth by saying, on behalf of my husband and I;
Thank you to everyone who has been a part of our lives here. We have the best, most interesting, funniest, friendliest customers possible and it makes our daily working lives such a pleasure.
Chris has a story he's fond of telling his London best friend Geoff. He says: "I live ten yards from my office but it can take me half an hour to get there in the morning". (In the morning? That'll be right.)
"Why does it take you so long?" (Don't you just love best friends?)
"Because I stop to chat to so many people."
Lovely. And true. Petworth is not like every other Market Town in the Home Counties, no. And shall I tell you why? Because it's full of nutters! Really, it is. Wonderful, colourful, friendly, interesting eccentrics - full of them. I don't know if it's the fact that there are still a lot of local Petworthians living here - families who've lived here for generations. I envy them, how secure would you feel if you could trace your roots every day of your life because you're living them?
Or maybe it's the plethora of antique shops in the town bringing interesting collectors - characters with lives lived out like an Agatha Christie novel or an episode of Minder?
To be a little more prosaic, I do actually think it's appeal has something to do with its layout and the fact that road vehicles have to pass through Petworth if going north or south between the coast and London. I wonder if the town lays dormant in our minds until one day it creeps into our consciousness and we're hooked?
Sorry, I'm supposed to be being prosaic amen't I?
Also Petworth is laid out in streets leading off from the main Market Square. it's not just a row of shops on either side of a main thoroughfare like Storrington or Midhurst. We're lucky to have the car park with The Old bakery leading off and into the town centre. It naturally leads walkers round the adjoining streets. Yes, I'm very pleased with Petworth. Thank you. x
PS: Remind me to tell you about my mum's other visits - she's a doozy!
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