Cave Restaurant

 

One lovable fact about history that I've had to face year after year of doing this blog is that the Victorians were fucking bonkers. In some parts of Shropshire that fact is driven home by a little bit more than the usual adorable follys and bookcase doorways. Instead we have cave dwellings, where people literally lived underground. This particular cave is said to pre-date the Victorian era, but it was around the 1850s that historic records start referring to it as a restaurant, and that is kinda nuts. I love it.

 

The cave was likely excavated in 1804 or 1805, simply because the bridge leading over to it was built on the 13th December 1804.

 

 

And it looks pretty good for something that's not been maintained for over a century. Old maps show the road over it leading directly to the cave, but there's no road anymore. If it wasn't for this very obvious bridge, there would be no clues it was ever here at all.

 

 

The bridge ends and the woods begin. 

 

 And to look at this cave, it's so completely covered in brambles and ivy that in the summer it's probably impossible to see. But before it was all overgrown, it would have been pretty scenic around here. According to the groundskeeper, a small bus would bring people here for refreshments in a nice woodland setting with a view of the river. I'm going to assume, based on the size of the cave itself, that many of the seats were outdoors, and I'm going to assume that the bus was a horse-drawn bus that would fit maybe six people at a time, although 1820s horse buses were known to fit up to sixteen passengers in fancier places like Paris, so who knows? Either way the trip out to this place would have been as pleasant and relaxing as actually being here. It made for a nice chilled day out.

 

Allegedly there's an outdoor toilet somewhere around here too, hidden under a mess of brambles near the cave. It's impossible to see now, but I assume it's still in better condition than the toilets in some pubs and clubs.

 

Slipping inside, it's easy to see where the original doorway was. It's still got its wooden frame. The inner walls are still partially covered in lime wash paint, but the floor is buried under a couple feet of dirt that's blown in over the last hundred years or so. I do wonder if there are any Victorian floor tiles lost under here somewhere.

 

One wall of the cave is open to the elements, and I'm not sure if that's intentional or if the sandstone wall has fallen away over time. I think if the restaurant was meant to be open like this, it wouldn't need a door. But it's very possible that there was a brick structure attached here once, and that this has been taken down. It's very rare that these cave structures were all cave. Usually the caves were simply incorporated into an actual building.

 

There's a little alcove here which quite possibly once had a little table and a couple of seats in it. It would be cute if the ceiling hadn't recently picked that exact spot to drop itself. 

Hmm... maybe I should keep this mooch quick.

 

So next to the main entrance door is an archway leading deeper into the cave.

 

 

So as far as historic documents go, it's actually the diary of Adelaide Darby that provides the most information about this place. But even that is a surprising source. Adelaide Darby is the grand daughter of Abraham Darby. She's also the great-grand daughter of... another Abraham Darby. And the great-great-grand daughter of... another Abraham Darby! Seriously, coming up with baby names is not this families strong point. But it was Adelaide's Grandfather who built Ironbridge's titular iron bridge, so they were pretty damn rich. She was also married to a politician, Henry Whitmore, who was the MP for Bridgnorth, and he's also been in this cave.

So it's interesting because you'd think something like a cafe operating out of a cave would cater more to the working class, but two of the regular patrons are a couple of rich folks from a nearby mansion.

The first mention of it is in Adelaide's diary entry from January 1853, when she mentions that she goes to "The Cave" with her friend Emily, who is the second daughter of Charles Whitmore, a rector at Stockton and no doubt a relative of Henry.

 

 

Henry Whitmore himself came here "for lunch" on the 17th October 1855, where he met with a mysterious gent called Mr Bluck. Adelaide and Henry seemed to do just about everything with Mr Bluck. He was their lifelong companion and presumably someone employed by them in some capacity. 

It's this diary entry that elaborates that "The Cave" was an eatery, and it even specifies its location, matching up with this one.

Adelaide doesn't really talk much more about it though. Her journal was more vocal of her opinions prior to her marriage, after which it became more an endless listing of where she went and who with. She was a busy woman. 

She mentions coming here twice more, once in September 1856 for tea, and again in September 1857, this time bringing her mother, Henry, Mr Bluck and her dog Toozie. Toozie was a bit of an escape artist, with many a journal entry despairing about how he was missing, only to be returned by the servants a few days later.

 

 

This deeper room of the cave has a raised platform that still has the remnants of some tiles on it. But was this a seating area? Because if food and drink was served here then one of these rooms had to be a small kitchen, and this one makes the most sense. It probably wasn't anything too extravagant, but if one supposes the actual floor of the cave is beneath a load of dirt, then it's entirely possible that these seat-level platforms are actually work surfaces. This could well be the area where food was prepared. I wish I knew exactly what. Maybe it was just sandwiches and salad.

 

 The walls of the cave are full of these square slots, which would have had either lamps or beams.

 

I presume there would have been a small Victorian stove in here. I'm not sure quite what the logistics are when it comes to operating a cafe out of a cave. But if one looks closely against the bottom of the rear wall, there are some symmetrical indentations that suggest that something was there. And if one looks at the upper wall on the right, there are some horizontal gashes where shelves used to be too. 

But what's really interesting is the graffiti. I'm going to focus rather heavily on it, because it's awesome and there is a lot of it. Starting with the door frame itself...

 

There's a bunch of scribbles here, one of which is dated 1939.

 

 

And here we have "MJC, Lord of the Manor, 6th April 1952." 

These initials don't match up with anyone from the nearest manor around this time, so I have no idea who this could be.

 

 

There's a few declarations of love here. And on the walls of the cave, the graffiti continues. 

 

 

John Matthews, in 1946, wrote his full address on the wall.

 

 

 

William Matthews of Norton, October 1st, 1942.

This looks like a child's handwriting. It's really incredible how all of this is preserved, but also that this cave got so much attention. Was it so hidden that by the 1940s it became something of a hidden gem to be sought out? What was it about this place that made everyone want to brag that they'd been here?

I'm not complaining. I think this is epic. I'm just a bit bewildered.

 

There's one here from 1935.

 

Fred Norgrove, 15, wrote in 1969 "I'm always for a bit of nice stuff."

 

 

R Mitchell was here squirrel shooting.

 

 

And someone from Walsall wrote his entire address on the wall in 1938. 

 

 

There's one here from 1665, but given that it's written in pencil and would predate the cave itself, I think that's just someone being facetious. 

 

 

There's some graffiti here claiming to be from the projectionists of one of the "Carry On" movies in 1967. Unfortunately I can't figure out which movie that is, because the final word is slightly faded.

Carry on Heroin?

 

 

There's one here from 1905. 

 

 

One from 1923.

 

And finally Eddie Cooke, in 1954, wrote "Anyone who reads this, write to..." and then he lists his full address, which has now faded away, although "Bridgnorth" is still visible. I did do some digging and found that he was born in 1935, so we can assume that he's probably not living at the address listed anymore. In fact it's highly possible that he's not living anywhere anymore. But just in case, please make no attempt at contacting him or anyone else who have listed their address on this cave. I do this to document history, not facilitate harassment.

 

It's amazing though. What we've done here is inadvertently stumble across a lost legend. Clearly this cave mattered to a lot of people throughout the years, as some sort of lost point of interest that they should totally consider an achievement for finding. Evidently they didn't have the benefit of the internet, so they probably pottered about in the woods for ages while the cave itself was buried under ivy and brambles. 

It's amazing that all this vintage graffiti still exists. This is some real history.

And it's amazing that before it became covered in the graffiti of those bragging that they found it, this place was a haunt of the likes of Adelaide Darby and her husband, Henry Whitmore, MP of Bridgnorth. And countless others probably came here to sit and enjoy the scenery over a cup of tea. It must have been quite nice back in its day.

To conclude, I do need to stress that the ceiling is collapsing in here so entering is probably not the smartest idea anymore, but I would love to return with a wide angle lens. It's very temporary. It should be documented while we have it.

In the meantime, if you like my blogs then you can follow me on social media platforms. I'm on Instagram, Facebook, Vero, Reddit, and the silly ones, Twitter and Threads. 

Thanks for reading!

Cute little house

Today we're checking out this cute little cottage crumbling away in the countryside. There's not an awful lot to say about it. We were passing by on our way to another place, and then it started to rain. Luckily the door was open on this adorable wreck, so we slipped inside for a quick mooch.

 

 

 

The house shows up on old maps dating back to the Victorian era, when it was part of a wealthy estate. Presumably this was the home of one of the estates servants, or the game keeper . It does tend to have a bit of a game keeper vibe to it, perched ominously on a bit of an incline, overlooking the surrounding landscape.

 

But it also has enough modern trinkets left behind to make me apprehensive about doing too much research. I mean, I really enjoy researching the lives of working-class Victorians when I'm photographing those tiny little homes that nobody would consider suitable for a whole family today, that have been abandoned for decades. That sort of thing is genuinely fascinating. It's a little more invasive to research a house that people can still remember being lived in.

 

 

There's a toaster and a kettle here. I guess wherever these people went, they didn't want tea or crumpets. What mockery of existence is that? 

 

 

This is an interesting sight. It looks as if the spider has actually pulled the ring away from the wall with the strength of its web. It absolutely hasn't, of course. The ring was probably like that when the spider got there, but it still looks cool.

Moving on from the kitchen, there's this tiny middle room sandwiched between the kitchen and the lounge.

 

 

It's kinda cute with the curtains still up. Presumably it was once a small dining room.

 

 

And there's this lovely old fireplace, long since blocked off but still retaining its mantelpiece and tiled flooring. It's odd because I would have thought these features would be removed when the fireplace was blocked off.

 

 

And then next to that room is this lounge area with a colossal fireplace dominating the entire wall of the building. And then there's a cabinet, which has been dragged towards the door and then left, perhaps the last effort at clearing the place out before someone said "Fuck it, the van is full." 

I  imagine this room was quite homely when it was furnished and the fire was going. The fireplace gives it a lot of character, mainly by being impossible to ignore. Think how many home invaders you could cremate in that.

 

 

There's a solitary shoe here.

 

 

Moving on upstairs...

 

Everything's a little more decayed up here.

 

The first bedroom is a little weird because one wall is covered in newspaper. That's sure to give anyone nightmares.

 

 

But I've seen this sort of thing before, in an abandoned Soviet barracks of all places, and I learned then that newspapers were commonly put on walls back in the day as a form of cheap insulation. But these newspapers here are dated 2016, which would indicate that the house was lived in until relatively recently.

 

 

There are some pictures on the window.

 

And that's kinda baffling because clearly someone did come here and move everything out. It hasn't got the same smashed glass and penis graffiti that accompanies a traditional looting. The house was left to rot after someone moved out, taking most of their belongings. And I can understand maybe leaving a toaster or a kettle. They can be replaced pretty easily. But pictures are a little more sentimental. There's a girl and her dog in one photo, and surely that's important to someone. 

 

But while we're on the subject of what's important to people, it's time to check out the best part of any abandoned building, the bathroom. 

 

Yep. Still in better condition than the toilets in some pubs and clubs. 

I actually love that the toilet window is the only window in the house that overlooks the driveway, which means whoever lived here could wave at the postman while sat on the loo squeezing one out, and he'd have no idea what was really going on. 

 

Onto the other bedrooms...

 

So presumably this was the kids room, as indicated by the totally relatable stickers slathered all over the bedroom door. 

 

 

Apparently the occupants name was Edward, and everything on this door gives us a rough indication of when he was a child here. We have the Lion King, and we have the logo from "Dennis the Menace," but not the Beano version. This is actually from the live action movie that came out in 1993 and was based on the little blonde American Dennis the Menace cartoon that was adapted from another comic that first saw print across the pond on the exact same day that the British got their familiar Dennis and Knasher, completely by coincidence. And I'm quite surprised there wasn't any legal kerfuffle there. I remember both. As a child, me and my sister would turn on the TV because the TV guide said Dennis the Menace was on, and sometimes it was just this little blonde kid, and we'd sit there thinking "Who the fuck is this imposter?"

 

 

Some of these stickers are Crash Dummies, which was one 90s toy franchise I was never lucky enough to sink my teeth into. It was a toy based on those road safety adverts. The crash dummy figures and their vehicles were all designed to smash to pieces on impact, so the idea was to cram the hapless little wretches into their car and just send it careening towards the nearest wall. They were probably the funnest way to educate kids on the importance of seat belts that the world has ever seen.

 

 

The beds headboard is still here. 

 

 

For some reason, little Edward has a Christmas card from Conservative MP Philip Dunne. But he is the MP of Ludlow, so this isn't personal. He probably just sent a bunch of cards out to everyone.

 

 

And then there's the interior paper of a retro video game box. I've never heard of "Mr Wongs Loopy Laundry," but that's to be expected. The 1980s were just a random time for video games. It was just an era of bonkers platform games with little to no plot. I used to love retro video games. They just threw out any concept to see what stuck. I still have a load of old Atari games that I cannot access due to not having a working device. But someday...

 

This is really interesting. It appears to be a crumpled up letter talking about an archaeological dig around Coalbrookdale, and it makes mention of the Darby family, who I coincidentally mentioned last blog, and will probably be talking about next blog too.

 

There's a final room, and it has "Keep Out" and "Knock before enter" written on it. I thought this might be a child's bedroom too.

 

 

It's a bit small though. It's basically a big cupboard. Perhaps it was a study.

 

But that's all I've got. This house isn't exactly the most exciting location I've ever documented, but it is still quite cute, and I think it would make a lovely home for someone. Unfortunately it remains empty, and has since been boarded up... Something to do with people always sneaking in and stuff... Whoops...

But that's okay. It still made for a lovely side quest. The main adventure continues. 

So my next blogs will be one on this Shropshire-based local one, and then another on my travel one. A lot people who follow my local blog still don't know that I do a travel blog, where I climb on capsized cruise ships and things. Occasionally they comment on my Facebook posts saying "Where in Shrewsbury is this," about a chateau in rural France, but that makes sense. The confusion is all my fault, but I'm not changing my Facebook page now. That would be even more confusing.

So anyway, I don't know what I'm doing on these algorithmic hellscapes, but if you like my blogs then follow my Instagram, my Facebook, my Vero and my Reddit. Maybe follow my Twitter and Threads too. I barely use them, but hey-ho.

Thanks for reading!