The Fudge Shop Cellar

(DISCLAIMER: As an relatively nice human being, I do not force entry, vandalize, steal, or disclose means of entry or location if it isn't obvious. I do this to protect locations and respect them. Trespass without forced entry is a civil offense rather than a criminal one, which isn't worth acting on unless one causes damage, steals, has ill intent, etc. I simply photograph and leave everything as I find it. I do not condone breaking and entering, and I do not condone what I do. I'm a danger to myself and a terrible role model, and I probably have piles too.)

One of the more mysterious topics that I cover on this blog are the rumours that Shrewsbury has underground tunnels. And I've pursued these rumours with a fierce tenacity, and put my findings on this blog, whether it's something impressive like a blocked off cavern beneath Wyle Cop, or a simple suspicious archway.
While some of the wilder rumours are undoubtably just rumours, I've still seen enough proof that there were indeed underground means of accessing various places in the past, and I'm still pretty addicted. Most likely there was never a huge network. The Golden Cross is one of the most well known, and that was simply a means for the priests of Old St Chads to get to the pub without the public knowing.

So, long term readers will remember that I once checked out the cellar of a lovely little shop, sadly due for closure, called The Cave, and took photos of every architectural curiosity, as well as appreciating all the many wonderful things that they kept down there.

The Cave, for those of you who don't know, is a shop for the more spiritually inclined. It sells crystals, incense, jewellery, tarot cards and more. Customers can also book tarot readings, and energy healing, and they also hold events such as astral travel workshops. Their cellar is beautiful, and has a really calming atmosphere. It was the remnants of old tunnels that initially drew me down there, but there's so much more to it than just that. They've converted it into some kind of relaxation zone, or as they describe it on the door a "sacred space of peace and quiet." It's a museum of spiritual artefacts, including a remembrance angel where one can light a candle for someone they've lost, and a prayer tree which one can decorate with their positive vibes. The amount of effort that has gone into it is phenominal.
I'm no expert in that sort of thing, but I love the vibe down there.

Next to The Cave is a fudge shop, which used to be a deli. I happened to know a few of the former employees from the shops deli days, and as a result I've been aware for a long time that beneath the building are also architectural tidbits that could be seen as signs of old underground passageways. Prior to reopening, I managed to slip inside to see them for myself.

The stores current incarnation as Rolys Fudge Pantry is relatively recent but seems to be doing well, and from a consumer point of view, my taste buds have only nice things to say. You should totally shop here.
The shop has changed many times over the last few years. My detailed map of Shrewsbury from 1880 doesn't mention what it was, but Google Streetview goes back as far as 2009, and shows it as an art gallery. By 2011 it had reopened as a salon, but it was the deli by 2014. During all this time, the shop that would become The Cave was a solicitors and it's likely that throughout the comings and goings of random businesses, the oddities in the cellars remained ignored.
The store re-opened as a baker in 2016 but this didn't last and the Fudge Shop opened in 2017, shortly after I had a nose around. 

And oddly, its layout is a mirror of The Cave. In fact,taking a second look at the exterior made me realise that they were once the same building! All the buildings are connected down this street, so it took me sneaking into the cellar to notice it, but it's true. Looking at the exterior, and how it connects to the surrounding buildings, it's obvious. There's a big central door, which likely served as the main entrance, but then at some point in its history, the building was altered, split into two, and converted into two shops.

And as such the cellar is symetrical, although you'll never notice it from looking at the individual cellar. One needs to step into both to see the big picture.

So in the Caves cellar is this relaxation chair. The Fudge Shops corresponding chamber isn't as spectacular, but let's not judge, the public isn't allowed down here.

But comparing a mirror cellar to the Cave when the contrast is so extreme kinda makes me think of the Cave as some mirrored alternative reality where everythings prettier. But unlike the Caves relaxation chair room, there is a blocked doorway at the back of this room. Where would that have gone?
I mean even if we don't think it's a tunnel going somewhere, it's still exciting. There could be an entire secret room back there.
A slightly more boring explanation could present itself on the map of 1880, which depicts this building as having a back yard. I don't know if that's still there, but this could very well have been a means of accessing it. It's a slightly boring explanation, I know, and as much as I love the idea of underground tunnels, usually the more boring explanation is the right one. This realistic viewpoint is what separates this blog from your typical internet story, which would probably tell you that there was a lost Victorian sex dungeon back there or something. Although that would be cool.

Tunnel enthusiasts will be happy to know that this doorway points towards St Alkmunds and St Julians church. This could well be relevant. As mentioned, folks who worked in churches often required a secret means of accessing the pubs and brothels. Should any passage from here carry on across the street, the Golden Cross, which has been historically confirmed to have once had tunnels, lines up perfectly. Above ground, the central exterior door, which would have once been the buildings main entrance, lines up with Golden Cross Passage, where the old pubs tunnels were said to surface.
But that is all speculation.

This archway corresponds exactly with the archway beneath the Cave which contains Hermes bust,so logic would suggest that this is was once an unblocked means of crossing the cellar. There's a second archway obstructed by a wall there. It makes me wonder if this was a massive open space with decorative central arches.

 The largest room of the cellar, corresponding with the one in the Cave, has a big fireplace on the corresponding wall to the Caves prayer tree. The wall of the cave mirrors this with an archway, which at the time I did get a little excited about. It's an archway, after all. Was it once a doorway?
However comparing it to the other wall makes me lean more towards this being a fireplace too.
Below I've included the wall for comparison.

Yeah, that brickwork was probably a fireplace.
Looking at the exterior of the building, it's this wall of the Cave that still retains its chimney. The wall of the fudge shop doesn't. At some point it must have been removed.
So sorry to all you tunnel enthusiasts. I'm pretty convinced that the archway behind the prayer tree was just another fireplace.

It's so strange to think that these two rooms are structural mirrors of each other but so different at the same time. It makes one appreciate the hard work and effort that went into making the Cave great.

Separating these two rooms is a wall. In the Cave, there are two very obvious doorways, and the Fudge Shop corresponds exactly.

Why are there two? I have no idea. Perhaps the rooms were once disected by another wall, but there is no evidence. However this room was once linked to the Cave via these doorways, which match up perfectly on both sides. Below are the Caves version, for comparison.

But all this proves is what I've said already- that the two shops were built as one building and separated as two businesses. This sort of thing happens all the time.
But there's one aspect of the Caves cellar that baffles and intrigues me, and that's their Water Goddess statue. It stands under an archway right at the front of the shop, with two blocked passages that fork left and right, underneath the street. Here's a picture of it.

People aren't permitted past the water goddess, but they couldn't get very far even if they did get past it. The tunnels spread a meter or so either way before being blocked. But where did they lead? Well, now I know that once, if one was to turn left at the river goddess, they would be taken right to the fudge shop cellar, again, because they have the exact same archway.

Look at that! And just like the Cave, it forks left and right but is blocked at both ends. If you turned right, and brought a sledgehammer along with you to knock the wall down, you'd find yourself behind the river goddess in the caves cellar.

But this is by far the most intriguing aspect. What happens if one could turn left here? Surely this passage would continue. It's under the street. One can hear footsteps on the pavement above their heads and everything. It's an obvious former underground passage to somewhere.

So in terms of trajectory, what is there to speculate about? Well, I did originally theorise since the building is on a slight bend that the Caves tunnel pointed at the OPO across the street. However, since the building, and tunnel, bend with the street, this points at Wyle Cop. Long time readers and tunnel enthusiasts might get excited because there ARE tunnels beneath Wyle Cop, and admittedly, it would be great if they all connected. But they're still a bit of a trek away. However, its totally feasable that this tunnel turns left at the top of Wyle Cop and leads to the churches. But again, that's speculation.

If one was to follow the passage in the opposite direction (turn right at the river goddess), then it literally just points at the bottom of Pride Hill. At first there doesn't seem to be any notable landmarks up there that might require a subterranean passage, but according to my 1880 map, the building at the bottom of Grope Lane, currently Costa, used to be a pub called the Cross Keys. And back then Princess House (Starbucks) was the site of Shire Hall.

So we have a handful of possibilities to speculate about.

Worth noting is, of course, Old St Chads. Historically documented is its famous tunnel to the Golden Cross pub, but also two other passages that led out from its crypt to parts unknown. While the trajectory of these passages doesn't point at the church, its proximity is still possibly relevant. The crypt collapsed centuries ago, taking most of the church with it, so we might never know where those tunnels led. Some speculation exists about it pointing at the music hall, due to some tunnels I found in between it and there, but also worth noting is that the cellar of Belmont Orthodontics, literally just across the street from the church, has an ancient tunnel vibe to it.
I only had my phone on me when I snuck down there, so excuse the poor focus...

But on that note, that's all I've got! I answered some questions though. Where did those doorways in the Caves cellar lead? Next door! Whoa! But the water goddess passage still remains a mystery.

And as one final thing to mention, the Cave will be shutting its doors soon, due to the cost of running a business in the town centre. The business will apparently still be operating somewhere else, so if this sort of thing is your thing, it's best to like their Facebook to get updates directly from them.
It is a shame, since the Cave does add a splash of character to the town centre.

Anyway, if you liked this blog, share it on social media. Like my Facebook, and follow my Instagram and Twitter.
And most important of all, if you know anyone who is struggling or unhappy, give them a hug, listen to them, confiscate their newspaper, and cheer them up. It's actually really easy to turn someones shitty day around.

That's all I got! Thanks for reading!
Stay Awesome!

The Lost Bungalow

(DISCLAIMER: As an relatively nice human being, I do not force entry, vandalize, steal, or disclose means of entry or location if it isn't obvious. I do this to protect locations and respect them. Trespass without forced entry is a civil offense rather than a criminal one, which isn't worth acting on unless one causes damage, steals, has ill intent, etc. I simply photograph and leave everything as I find it. I do not condone breaking and entering, and I do not condone what I do. I'm a danger to myself and a terrible role model, and my feet smell.)

Before we start, I want to write briefly about a friend of mine, Becky Wood, who recently passed away. She was in her twenties and news of her passing was entirely unexpected. I first met her in 2006 back when I was a spotty teenage imbecile venturing into Shrewsbury to get drunk with other teenage imbeciles. Since then, thanks to the wonders of living in a small town, we ended up as work colleagues for a brief period, before she moved on to better things. It was care work that we did together. It's an occupation which we both agreed, generalising somewhat, tends to attract a lot of people who are woefully unintelligent and boring, and so Becky was actually a breath of fresh air to work with because she actually had depth. 

 I found her inspiring. Becky posessed a rare beauty of character that is lacking in so many. What made her beautiful was her indomitable attitude to life. She was her own boss. She didn't follow anyone. She voiced her own intelligent opinions that she constructed all by herself. On top of that her potential knew no limits. She had the power to reach beyond her grasp, and continously push on to expand her horizons and possibilities. To see this in anyone is to see greatness. Whenever I saw her, she had some exciting news, a new road that she was taking her life down. She was also a talented artist. And I, with the social skills of a yak, find it a miracle when I keep a friend for even three years. Becky knew me for eleven.

I last saw her a month or so ago. She was pretty happy and enjoying life, and carrying a baby, who now has to grow up in a world without her mother. I guess if there's a lesson there it's that we should be appreciative of those around us, as we never know when it will be the last time we see them. This has come as a huge shock to me. RIP Becky. You will be missed.

But on with the blog post, although my tone might be different, such is grief. 
Today I'm rewinding back to the summer, when I was working with a client. In this case, we're using "client" as a term for a guy I dragged into an adventure for therapeutic reasons. Adventure Therapy! Isn't that a great idea??? My clients name is Brother Michael, and he was a monk. Or at least he pretended to be.
He told me one day that he was feeling rather lost. He's just come out of a 22 year relationship, having moved in with her after living with his parents, and now he's alone for the first time in his life.  I honestly feel for him. 22 years is a long time, and after any relationship there is a sudden void where time ordinarily spent on a partner is suddenly empty. Loneliness is an awful thing.
But you see, Brother Michael had booked off some annual leave from work, and with a lot of his spare time being spent in solitude for the first time ever, he suddenly found himself reeeally bored, and told me that he was considering picking up more shifts at work during his annual leave. What a travesty.

Now I'm all for working for a living. I'm in full time employment myself, and it's very much a necessity for survival. However, I think that there is more to life than work. More importantly, there is more to the human individual than being an obedient little worker for a corporation. I think it's important to have things that define your life beyond the means in which one drains their soul for a monthly payslip. I don't want to meet people and introduce myself only to go on to say"I work in a lamp factory. That is my life." Although if I were to say that, I'd also go on to joke "I used to work in Auschwitz but I got sacked because I couldn't concentrate."
But no, I would not want to define myself by what I do for a living. I do believe that humanity has somehow hi-jacked its own existence. As children, we seek happiness, and the world is full of possibilities to have fun. It's all huge and exciting. As we grow older, the world shrinks in our minds as we're encouraged to fall into the safety of patterns. We're told that if we simply follow all the little rules, and be obedient little employees just doing what we're told to do then everything will be okay. But human nature hungers for more than just the rat race. A child is one who is able to instinctively create their own worlds. When children play, they're constantly experiencing their own reality through their own imagination. This isn't a learned process. This comes completely naturally. The problem humanity faces is that we're encouraged to grow away from this ability, or more horrifyingly, grow to accept the reality imagined by those in control.
 We weren't meant to be fed through some indoctrination education system from such a young age only to be regurgitated into a world with the belief that the only meaning our life has is in our financial gain, so that we can go and barely earn a living until we're too old to be efficient, while keeping some fatty rich at the top of the corporate ladder so that they can get all the expensive cars, holidays, hookers and cocaine that they want. No. Working to live is different from living to work. Your hourly wage is basically you selling your life to your employer. And as we get older, and particularly as our friends die around us, it becomes apparent that no matter how much someone pays you, you can't buy back your time. So time off work should be seized and enjoyed. Brother Michaels problem is his free time isn't being enjoyed. He hasn't a clue what to do or where to start. And thats where adventure therapy comes in.

I told Brother Michael to grab his car keys. You're not going to pick up shifts during your annual leave. We're going on an adventure!

This abandoned bungalow was on my radar for some time, quietly tucked away in the Shropshire wilderness, only a few miles from a second abandoned house that we'll cover later on. It reminds me a little of the last bungalow, but then don't all bungalows look the same? Of course I should be careful throwing statements like that out. Someone on Tumblr might take offence. It's about time someone called me out on my house privilage...

Anyway, I'm not sure what the history of the place is, or why its abandoned. Typically this happens when the occupant passes away, and as such when one ventures around them it is with complete respect. These places are like museums or gravestones of the former occupant. It is important to change nothing.
However, the majority of abandoned houses, like Calcott Hall, Cloud House and Christmas House all have a vintage look to them, like they've been abandoned for decades. This one is comparatively modern, which gives it a creepy vibe of its own, more reminiscent of the Travelers cottage. I felt like the owners had nipped out for a bit and were about to come in and find two trespassers.
But the lack of clothing and personal posessions such as books, toys and whatnot indicates that it is indeed unoccupied. But why?

 The garden is overgrown, and littered with relics belonging to the former occupant.

And of course, the door is padlocked. Fortunately the windows were not.

But check this out! The coats have been hanging up for so long that cobwebs have formed on them.

As far as exploring abandoned property goes, Brother Michael took to it rather well. Sure, he's not as badass as Ouija LeMay, facing off against the Welsh Mafia, but then I'm not that badass either.

The bungalow is still fully furnished.

Here's the kitchen and dining area, although it sure is rare that a family might position their dining table diagnonally across a room, but who am I to judge? It looks kinda good like this.

There's a calendar here thats dated January 2006. While it's not 100% precise it does give an accurate idea of when this house was last occupied. This indicates that the house has been abandoned for around a decade.

There's a Christmas card here for someone called Josh, who we'll assume is a young boy who used to live here. It's from Dad, Colette and Chloe. Curiously it's lacking the mother, which would indicate maybe that the parents in the family are split up. Either the mother is absent and Josh lived here with his father, step mother and sister, or Josh lived here with his mother, and the card is from the father who lives elsewhere and perhaps his partner and step daughter? I don't know. For all I know, Josh, Chloe and Colette could be three unrelated adults sharing this house, but I doubt that.

In the kitchen cupboard are tins of sugar, coffee and tea, all still there and waiting for someone to come and make a cuppa.

I'm not sure about the expiry of coffee granules, but I'm pretty sure that when they look like tiny pieces of coal, it's probably not fit for consumption.

The tea and sugar are much more deceptive.

Onto the lounge!

The lounge is still furnished with two sofas and a rather dated television. There's also a hatch that leads through to the dining room, just in case anyone wanted to eat while watching TV.

Nature has started to creep in through the corner there. In spite of the cleanliness, and the modern vibe to the place, we all know that once nature gets in, it's all downhill. It sure would be interesting to see how this place looks in five years once the mold gets in.

The firepoker and brush is all still there.

Moving on to the bedrooms... There are three. The first one is presumably where the parent slept, and it is curiously the only room to retain any personal belongings of any significance. The bed is still here.

An alarm clock!

This small room was possibly the bedroom of the child, Josh. The majority of bedroom-related items have been removed.

I'm not sure why there's a wooden board with numbers written on it, but the colouration seems to imply that something was once on display on it.

The only indication that this was even a childs bedroom is a Mr Men sticker on a window. Of course, it doesn't necesarily mean that this was a boys room, since the evidence is fairly non-gender specific, although even something as simplistic as childrens books about anthropomorphic blobs subscribes to gender roles too, with the Little Miss series. But so far the only thing that's obvious is that a child lived in this room. The window actually opens out onto the interior hallway of the bungalow, for observation purposes.

The third room, with its remnants of pink and purple wallpaper, and a Winnie The Pooh themed height measure, indicates that a girl lived in here.

The bathroom is also very pink, but has seen better days.

There used to be a shower curtain in this ridiculously tiny corner.

Moving out of the bungalow, the garden was overgrown, and hidden in the jungle was this garage, which seems to be a dumping ground of excess furniture and an abandoned vehicle.

Over in the corner of the ceiling is a wasps nest, which appears to have fallen from the beams and gotten caught in something, leaving it dangling.

As far as the bungalow goes, that's pretty much all that there was to see. But what is one to make of all this?
The bungalow was eerie, isolated and cut off from everywhere, with a very real vibe that the original occupiers would arrive at any moment with the groceries, hopefully with fresh coffee included.
It seemed that a family lived here, with at least one boy and one girl. I guess we can conclude that the young boy was called Josh, and if the birthday card was given to him by people living in the bungalow, then we can assume that he lived here with his father, Collette and Chloe. One of the womens names could possibly be a step-mother, and in this scenario all of the bungalows occupiers are named. However if we work on the theory that the card came from a father who didn't live in the same house as "Josh" then we're back to square one and I'm talking rubbish.

Less furnished but far more historic was another abandoned house only a few miles away.

Interestingly, this one was more appealing to my accomplice, Brother Michael, who loves his history and dived straight into detective mode, which was quite nice to see. It's an interesting aspect of the adventure that different people appreciate different kinds of locations.

This particular house had a privy in the garden, which is basically a toilet, prior to the internalization of toilet facilities in houses. It's overgrown, and basically one pooped in a hole on a bench. It's still in better condition than the toilets in some pubs and clubs.

Access to this house was through the rear entrance, which had an extension added on at a relatively later date. Of course, this entire building is ancient, so the addition of this extension isn't too recent. Nevertheless the main house predates this bit.

It's obvious, because the main wall of the house inside the extension still looks like the exterior wall of a house.

The extension had this mighty brick structure which Brother Michael theorised may have been a bakers oven, and this house may well have been the village bakers centuries ago.

Until the modern era, with machines doing everything, bread-making technology was more or less consistent from the middle ages onward, and I guess this could easily be an old bakers oven.
But we are, as always, open to second opinions. I'm no bread expert. 

There's a shelf in another part of the extension.

Slipping inside the main house, the stairs are right there on the right as one enters, but we won't be looking up there just yet.

There is a lot of age in this place, and one can see the varying levels of its history through the decay, from the peeling vintage wallpaper down to the brickwork.

This particular brickwork is along the back wall, and its indicative of a complete redesign taking place at some point.

There's junkmail dated 2010 but none of it is addressed to anyone personally. Whoever lived here vacated a long time ago.

Next to the stairs is this curious cupboard, which is really just a really narrow door, lockable from the outside, and leading to a very tiny compartment under the stairs.

As you can see, there's not much in there, and the door itself being so unconventional meant that I almost missed it.

This room has an unattractive vinyl flooring.

This poor little guy possibly got trapped in here years ago and starved to death.

Under the flooring, one can see the original vintage floortiles. I'm not a huge fan of this ugly vinyl flooring but it looks to me like it might have once been more colourful, but years of exposure to sunlight through the windows has faded it.

This area seemed relatively more modern, and was less decayed. Given some of the wall fixtures and the colouration, I assumed that this was a kitchen, and had once had counters and work surfaces.

Moving onto the stairs, theres an old, worn, floral design on the steps that indicates a time when this house was quite pretty.

The upstairs has three rooms, consisting of a central room and two rooms leading off from it.

Given that the brickwork in the chimney has been replaced, it's possible that there was one a fireplace up here too, which has since been removed.

This room has actually had quite a bit of modification, containing the most modern brickwork in the entire building along the back wall. It's quite sad to see that this house has had so many modifications throughout the ages, only to be left the way it is now.

There's still the remnants of wallpaper here.

At the other end of the house, above the kitchen, the floor and ceiling were slowly collapsing. It's in contrast to the "kitchen" area below which felt more modern, but given that this house has undergone various modifications, it doesn't surprise me. The ground floor typically gets fixed up prior to upper floors, due to being the part of a house that guests and such see.

What is interesting is the presence of a fireplace here, while the downstairs floor lacks one.

But that's all that there is to see from this house. It's just left to crumble away in the Shropshire wildnerness, and no doubt has a considerable few years of a head start on the other building.
And someday it will all be rubble. Someone somewhere could have fond memories and photographs of these buildings, and it goes to show that everywhere we turn we are faced with impermanence. Our posessions, from the smallest, simplest items, to our entire homes, will out-live us, but they too decay.

A human could maybe live for around 85 years, maybe even make it to 100 or past that, but the entire species has been around for 100,000 years, give or take the occasional century or two. So in actual fact, a human individual exists for around 0.00085% of their species overall history. That's pretty diddy. And then consider humankinds existence in comparison to the existence of Earth, which has existed for around 4.5 billion years, and our lives become even diddier. I have a decorative sign that hangs up in my office that reads my favourite quote ever- "Life is too important to be taken seriously." Because it is! Here we are worrying about being five minutes late for work and being told off by our boss, or missing an episode of a show on TV because it'll ruin the story arc, and around us life is passing us by. People ask me why I do what I do, why I laugh at the world as a means of coping with it, and why I go galivating on rooftops and poking around the forgotten places. It's because of death.

However, we live in an age where information is our key to immortality. The internet is the single greatest creation humans have ever come up with. It's less than a century old, and it's only the younger generations who don't remember life before its existence, and as such we haven't yet seen the long-term potential of such an invention. Humanities means of recorded history is forever changed. Whatever we stick online, photo, video or otherwise, is there to stay. And with it an entire era is captured and immortalized.
You could, as an example, record live music at, say, Alberts Shed (great place), and stick it on Youtube. And a decade from now, those who were there that night could watch this and their minds would be taken back there through the power of nostalgia.
 And thats why cameras are another one of humanities greatest inventions, the literal harnessing of light particles, along with music, the ability to communicate with the soul in a way that speech can not.
Humans with their love of history will use the internet, particularly social media, to study this era centuries from now. (Hello, if you're reading this.) And with social media rapidly descending into a species-wide battle for relevance, I sure hope the future isn't too judgemental.

We must try to look our best. 

And as for Brother Michael, he enjoyed his adventure therapy. He was so happy to be given something new, something other than performing in the rat race more than he needed to, where he would have just spent his day miserable, wishing he was somewhere else. He'll be in future adventures, along with my usual accomplice, Tree Surgeon. The supporting cast continues to grow. I even have another rooftop photoshoot with a model on the horizon, so make sure you keep watching.
Follow my Instagram, my Twitter and like my Facebook page. And if you like this blog post, and certainly if the narative resonates to you, share this anywhere you want.

And if you know anyone who is miserable, or anyone who is struggling, give them a hug. It costs you nothing but it means everything to them. And be nice to retail workers. It's their Christmas too!

That's all I got. Thanks for reading.
Stay awesome!