Todays blog is a small one. It's just a derelict house in the Shropshire countryside, although it was the titular caravan that interested me the most. I wasn't particularly enthusiastic about it, but that's probably because my last article was about an abandoned Nazi base on my international blog, which you can read here. As you can imagine, it's difficult to beat an abandoned Nazi base, so I wasn't going to even try. Those holiday blues hit me like a speeding freight train.
However, for me the journey is often more fun than the destination, and while this is no Calcott Hall, it was good just to get out of the house with a destination in mind. It's also quite important to take breaks from all that war stuff that I've been covering in Germany. I try to stay positive, and a huge part of that is taking light-hearted breaks from gloomy topics.
Don't let the car fool you. It's about as unwanted as the house. Nobody lives here.
The problem with abandoned residential houses is that they offer very little in regards to research. At least in comparison to my recent adventures.
What I do know is that it was still being lived in back in 2009, and the building shows up on maps from the late 1800s.
Around the back we have the titular caravan, with "Sorry" written across it in blue lettering. Sorry for what, exactly? How intriguing. The caravan is actually my favourite part of this entire location. It's dilapidated and smashed, but it has a lot more going for it than the actual house.
For some reason I find abandoned caravans creepier than houses. Perhaps it's the thought of someone living off the grid being potentially more harmful than someone who isn't.
Why did someone bring chairs into an area with sofas?
The flowers and clock being so neatly arranged is in an odd contrast to the rest of the mess.
Looking in the cupboard, I found three astrology mugs. By amusing coincidence, of all the zodiac signs out there, the only mugs here are me and my siblings. I'm a Leo. People expect the stereotypical Leo to be extroverted and arrogant but I'm nothing like that. I'm just quietly arrogant. If someone has lived through shit, and other people think that any shit they give that person is remotely original, the confident introvert usually just thinks "You're really boring. Now let me get on with my thing," and people think they're a doormat but really they just don't give a shit because they've already conquered all their demons and worked for the things that make them happy. Confident Introversion explained.
Maybe it's the fact that I've recently marathoned both seasons of "End of the fxxxing world," or maybe it's my morbid imagination, but I look at this caravan and think "Murder."
Murder weapon.
Murder clean-up.
Morbid imagination or too much TV? Too many morbid locations on my other blog, and not enough whimsical posts about trains? Either way, if I'm going to let any form of media influence my head, I'd rather this than the Daily Mail or The Sun.
The bathroom is fairly non-descript. Caravans tend to have a rather samey layout, so it's not really anything new.
The cars have seen better days.
I ran a check on this cars number plate, and found that its MOT expired in 2014.
This caravan was locked, but even from the outside there was a smell of mould, so I'm kinda grateful.
Here's an old pool table.
Looking at the house itself, it's covered in the same blue graffiti as the caravan, but instead of a curious apology we have the standard graffiti penis.
The graffiti continues into the house, but there isn't much to see in here. It looks as if someone has tried to renovate the house, and then given up.
Archways are interesting. The brickwork tells the houses history, and usually it's all covered up.
The lounge still has a homely vibe, no doubt due to the bright red curtains.
Upstairs it looks very much like renovation started but the graffiti gives away the neglect of the place. If renovations were continuing, surely it would have been removed. Instead we just have lots of blue wall scrawling that disturbingly refers to this place as a shag den.
See, if someone said "Shall we fornicate?" and then took me here, when theres a perfectly good caravan outside, I would probably consider castrating myself with a cheese grater to be a more favourable alternative than risking breeding with that person.
No offence folks.
Someones written "Fuck Off" on the floor.
Theres loads of old records too.
I have a theory that the music was listened to by the folks working on the place, who were staying at the caravan while work commenced. However for some reason work stopped, and the kids came here with their spray cans and poor art skills. Maybe the apology on the caravan is aimed at whoever was working here, just in case they ever come back.
There's a garage area too but this is full of clutter that was presumably moved in here from the house when renovations started.
Now onto the best part of any abandoned house- the toilets! In this case, it's part of the house, but doesn't lead into the house. One has to exit the premises, and re-enter. Have fun waking up desperate for a shit at 4am in the middle of November.
There's no door or glass in the window, but there's a radiator so it's not all bad.
It's still in better condition than the toilets in some pubs and clubs.
That's all I've got for this location. It's not a particularly interesting abandoned house compared to others that I've been to, but the caravan was quite nice, and the trip out here was rather pleasant. It got me out, doing things. Thats the main thing.
Share the blog wherever you want. Next time, I'm looking at an old Soviet tank facility on my other blog, and then I'm going to post about one of Shropshires lost train stations on this one. In the meantime, like the Facebook page, follow the instagram and the twitter, so that you'll get updates whenever there's something new.
You can probably stop paying attention now!
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