London

Truly great moments – the times when all you can do is laugh out loud, say nothing, or fall over in a heap – are rare. And, standing in the Greenwich foot tunnel, pressed against the tiles with my friends because we think the whooping noise coming from the other end might be vandals on the rampage, I really don’t think such a moment is on its way. But as the ruckus gets louder, we make out a troupe dressed in yellow and red running towards us – and hold on! – they’re bashing together coconut husks to make the sound of horses’ hooves and – Jesus! They’re being Monty Python’s Holy Grail crusaders! ‘Ay yay yaaaaaaiii!!!’ they shriek, flinging an ‘A-Z’ and a paper clue to the ground as they roar past. And suddenly I’m laughing out loud, in sheer disbelief that somebody has taken the trouble to find out what my favourite thing in the world is, and launched it on me in the most surreal, surprising and silly way imaginable. If you want to increase the likelihood of such sparkly moments occuring in your life, I strongly suggest you track down the London Quest Company and arrange for your very own, tailor-made mystery. Feature continues

For about £50 a head, London Quest people fashion a bespoke ‘mystery’ that lasts around five hours and takes you all around the city – sometimes further. Your team can be any size – recent quests have accommodated corporate teams, birthday parties and a newly engaged couple. It’s like a murder-mystery weekend in that you’re involved in an elaborate game, but with a treasure hunt element; clues arrive in the form of actors popping up in the strangest places, so you begin to look at everyone like they might be in on it. And every quest is organised around one person or theme. It is London. It is exciting. Time Out must investigate.

A week before my quest in Time Out reception, a serious man hands me an envelope. Inside is a template with holes and page numbers; by matching it up with the current issue of Time Out, I uncover the bits of information they need to customise my quest (‘family’, ‘working life’, ‘interests’, etc). I am already hooked.

On quest day, we are split into two teams. Clue one takes us to a dilapidated graveyard in Stoke Newington where we meet the scary man again. He is a detective, and leads us to a tombstone belonging to a Katharine Lewis from 1930s swing band The White Feathers led by Charlie Day; the quest people know about my obsession with wartime music. More clues guide us to a studio in Covent Garden, where a producer called Alan plays us the Feathers’ hit song ‘Ain’t You Glad’. He tells us we need to find out what’s happened to the royalties and hands over a folder stuffed with ration recipes, leaflets and an evacuee certificate, plus info on a poste restante holding box at Charing Cross – our next stop.

‘We’re on a quest!’ I say excitedly to the woman behind the counter.

‘Are you tourists?’ she asks.

She rummages around and retrieves an envelope addressed to me containing a wartime letter from Katharine Lewis, detailing a doomed love affair, and a plea that her evacuated children be kept together. If in any doubt, she writes, please contact my sister. The sister lives in Swindon – surely they don’t mean we go all the way there…? ‘There are other ways of getting in contact with people,’ sighs Jay, the rude detective. Oh.
We dial Swindon and speak to a wobbly-voiced old lady, who puts us in touch with her son, Cecil, who is in Hyde Park. Where exactly? ‘Oh, I’m just bobbing about,’ he says. The boating lake! Sure enough, when we get there we see a tweedy young man rowing about in circles. He waves and we row out to join him where we share strawberries and champagne and are given our next clue.

On it goes. After our brush with King Arthur at Island Gardens, we end up in the crypt of Hawksmoor’s St Alfeges Church for a date with a skeleton, then on to the Age Exchange in Blackheath. Here we find our final clue, written across two postcards so that it only makes sense when we’re reunited with the other team – who come straggling through the door.

We’re nearly there. We squelch through a sudden downpour to the park, where a herb garden, a love heart carved in tree bark and a set of keys lead us to a grand house. We unlock the front door, to the sound of 1930s swing music and the smell of baking bread. On the top floor, we find a portrait of Katharine, with a love letter from Charlie Day of The White Feathers. ‘Think you’ve worked it out?’ says a note. ‘Then call Jay on this number’. We’re not sure we have worked it out, but call Jay anyway. He tells us to meet him in the pub, where he explains everything, charting the history of ill-fated lovers and tracing the missing royalties to… us! I still don’t entirely understand, but feel completely satisfied – a bit like after watching ‘Mission: Impossible’. The quest is over, and on cue, the actors enter the pub, brandishing champagne.

To arrange your own London Quest, visit www.londonquest.co.uk