Elstead Common
There are so many memories waiting for me in Elstead.
This was where Mick and I first made a home together. A tiny one bedroom flat, filled with hope that I couldn’t fully see at the time. He became the man who quietly saved me after years of hurt and fear, even though neither of us realised just how much healing still lay ahead.
Every time I drive into Elstead, I feel it all at once. Love. Happiness. Gratitude. It reminds me how far I’ve come.
Back then I was living life through a lens I didn’t understand. Trauma. ADHD. Years of masking who I really was. I wasn’t really living, I was simply gliding through each day.
Now things feel different.
Working part time has given me something I never thought I’d have. Time. Time to notice. Time to explore. Time to enjoy the life that’s right in front of me.
Not to become someone else, but to simply be me.
The one who wakes up smiling, rubs her eyes with excitement for the day ahead and genuinely looks forward to whatever adventure might be waiting. I don’t need a grand plan anymore. A walk, a camera, Grace by my side and a little bit of history are enough.
Today, Grace and I visited Elstead Common for the first time together.
It’s funny because Mick and I walked around Elstead years ago, long before Grace came into our lives. Now I honestly can’t imagine life without her. It feels as though she’s always been part of our story. How did we ever manage before? She has filled our days with purpose, laughter and reasons to explore places we might otherwise have driven past.
The lake was so clear that the leaves beneath the water looked almost transparent. It was like looking through a window into another time. I stood there wondering how many people had paused in exactly the same spot over the years and what stories those waters could tell if they could speak.
From there we wandered over to St James’ Church.
Compared with many of the churches we’ve visited, it felt much newer. Beautiful, peaceful and well cared for, but without quite the same feeling of stepping back hundreds of years. We didn’t stay for long, but I still enjoyed learning about its history.
Although much of the church you see today dates from the nineteenth century, it stands on a site that has welcomed worshippers for centuries. Like so many village churches, it has quietly watched over baptisms, weddings, funerals and generations of families, becoming part of the village’s story without ever asking for attention.
As Grace patiently waited beside me, I realised that not every place has to leave you speechless. Some places simply give you a moment of peace before leading you on to the next chapter of your day.
Before heading home, we made one last stop at Godalming Lake for a quick coffee break. Sitting by the water with a warm cup in my hands, I watched the gentle ripples move across the surface while Grace rested quietly beside me. It felt like the perfect pause, a moment to take everything in before the day came to a close.
As we walked away, I realised these days aren’t really about ticking places off a list anymore.
They’re about seeing places properly.
They’re about understanding their history, listening to the people who know them best and noticing the little details that are so easily missed. They’re about taking photographs that capture more than a view and writing stories that help keep those places alive for someone else to discover.
I think I’ve finally found what I was meant to do.
I love telling stories, interviewing people, taking photographs and documenting the places, the history and the people that make our communities so special. If one of my stories encourages someone to visit somewhere they’ve never been before, to stop for a moment, or to look at a familiar place with fresh eyes, then I’ve done exactly what I hoped to do.
Every walk teaches me something.
Every village has a story.
And every time Grace and I head out together, we come home with another chapter waiting to be written.
A little History:
St James’ Church has stood in the heart of Elstead for almost 900 years. It was founded around 1138 by the monks of nearby Waverley Abbey, making it one of the oldest buildings in the village. Although it has been altered and restored over the centuries, parts of the original Norman church still remain, including sections of the nave walls and some of the ancient oak timbers that support the belfry. One of its most unusual features is the staircase to the belfry, carved from a single oak tree, a remarkable piece of medieval craftsmanship that has survived for centuries. The church also contains traces of medieval stained glass and has quietly witnessed generations of baptisms, weddings, funerals and everyday village life, standing as a reminder of Elstead’s long and fascinating history.
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