hellingly | the gt hine lock-in

Laurence arrived first and called me. “You’re not going to believe this” he said.

As the last days of summer turned to autumn, Smorgy and I had arranged to meet up with Laurence and Marlon at Hellingly Asylum. It was time to find somewhere new, and after all my digging around at Rauceby, it was nice to travel down to Hellingly to explore its big brother.

Hellingly is remote; set in fields on a hill near Horsham; it isn’t overlooked by suburban sprawl like Cane Hill or Severalls. So we expected a quiet morning, on an empty site, the only people in the world.

But we’d picked the wrong morning. “They’re only having a bloody fun run here” said Laurence, laughing at the absurdity of it all.