It was intended as an appetiser; ‘Garlic Bread’ if you must be more specific. This was an old wrecked house on the way to Liverpool, curtains hanging out of the windows and blowing in the wind. What could be inside?
I knew the answer to be, ‘very little’. This one, I had tracked down after finding it somewhere on the internet. The lead could have been via ‘28dayslater’ or ‘derelictplaces’, one of those two dinosaur Urban Explorer websites that are getting less relevant by the day.
Occasionally, if I am desperate I check one, or both to try and sniff out something that’s not ten years old and gives away the location. The former requires posters to specify the town, or area which is a good starting clue.
‘Ashworth Farm’ was one of those, and took a little digging to excavate. The post could be old, or the visit from yesterday, who knows?
I searched but could not find much about this one. Google Images portray the farm in a terrible state in 2009, and yet a newer image from 2015 indicates the property was lived in. Note the dustbins that give this away. Was it renovated, only to fall into disrepair again just one year later?
Source
…’Ashworth Farm, circa 2015; it looks rundown but still lived in. Just one year later, it’s abandoned again with a full set of ‘tin’ covering the front’…
Our target was on a busy main road and we needed to park a ways from it, and walk back. Getting past the herras fencing unnoticed was impossible, so we simply ignored the rubberneckers and edged past it.
Despite the heavy ‘tin sheeting’ nestling on the front side, the back was a walk-in and I sighed deeply at the lack of staircase. You can see it running diagonally up the wall on the right side.
Unless this was a multi-stair property there would be no viewing of the upper floors today.
The lower floors were not exactly sturdy in some rooms. I remember my foot crashing through the boards in at least one of the rooms.
Even with shallow floors such as these, you do need to be careful. A twisted ankle won’t send you to A&E, but can make the rest of the day uncomfortable.
Sights such as this end up being a point and click, as there is little else you can do. Uncovering the debris is something I have no desire to pursue.
The floor in the main hall walkway at least was relatively stable.
One of the once front rooms of ‘Ashworth Farm’. Whoever lived here seemed to like their wine, with images of glasses, some in pairs, drawn everywhere. They look like custom designs and that would have cost some money.
I suspect there could have been goodies in here once; the corner near the metal shutters yielded a few scraps lying around the floor such as ‘Everyday French’ minus the CD’s.
While ‘The Greatest Hits under the Sun’ volume 2 could well have yielded a scratched CD, I could only assume they were likely to be pop songs of the poorest calibre, and besides who owns a CD player now?
Fallen beams in this state are best avoided as they tend to continue downward crushing one to death if you stare at them hard enough. The worst case would give you a nasty splinter.
If you were to start a fire and crack a bottle, the atmosphere may improve a little.
It’s one of those properties with upstairs coal fires again. I wonder if they also require multiple chimneys.
The quintet who wrote this must have been young teenagers, and ‘Liz’ is far from being an adept writer.
The wine glass design extended past the living room and into the hall. Wallpaper it most definitely was not.
I thought there may have been a stash of letters beside the front door, but it was surprisingly void of anything besides piles of crap. The draped linen rose-etched curtain would look right at home in my late-grandmothers house.
Behind the door told me ‘Ashworth Farm’ was once a business, that ran outside of family members. The placement of it was strange. Did the employees enter the farmhouse to perform their work duties?
We exited and had a look around the rear of the property. It took me a while to figure out this was once a caravan. As well as being scorched, some roaming country giant had decided to step on the roof.
You can see for yourself that a lumbering twenty-foot monster had also knocked the left side of the rear. I mean what else could have done that?
The outhouses were extremely dull, void of anything besides the usual types of junk. We left in search of more exciting prey.
This was very average ‘Garlic Bread’.
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