Thanks, Razor. This one was another tip-off from my favourite Goth explorer, who appears to have run out of UK explores and is now exploring Europe.
I don’t know who finances his trips; it must be a good life.
There was a way in; I had seen it in Razor's YouTube stream, but that would mean getting past the concentration-camp-style border and my nemesis, Razor Wire.
Some elevated guard towers with snoring armed bored soldiers, and ‘Harpurhey District Nurses Home', would make things complete, but we were not trying to escape, rather get in.
A row of houses sat next to this ancient-looking building, which has surprisingly little written about it, besides other exploring images, so I would have to guess, sporting that classic red brick look, that it's from the Victorian days.
This edged corner would prove to be the answer. The wire stopped short of covering the end, and 
I laboured with this one, as the skinny curved metal fencing was the only place to put your feet, the fence too high, so leveraging oneself up took several tries.
It just was not stable enough, and I was cursing while wrapping my gloved hands around the top of that skinny metal edge while attempting to heave my body upward. My comrade with his natural tungsten-lined skin, of course, required no hand protection whatsoever, bastard!
Fortunately, the owner of the fence was not at home, and did not come outside screaming at me. After several attempts, I somehow managed to get a leg over, avoid the lethal wire and clamber down the other side.
Was it worth the effort? Oh yes, this would be a derp of the finest calibre, trodden by few explorers, and I could now see what it could have been like to be locked up in the proving grounds of a top security prison.
...'
The sign boasted 'National Health Service' livery, the once-envied service of the United Kingdom that blessed its residents with free health care. It still exists but is now overrun and severely understaffed due to the masses of immigrants entering the country. That story, however, is for another day.
Having breached the outside wall of security, the inner level was the next obstacle, aka, getting inside the building. A glance told me this was going to be trivial.
'Yes, I should think you should be very welcoming to the likes of me, who struggled with that metal fence. If you want some advice from me, get a roll of red carpet for us sweaty explorers and maybe a complimentary glass of wine?', I said to the imposing building.
It did not reply, just frowned like I was an insignificant insect.
I could smell it from the first seconds of crossing the breach, that familiar stench of mould and decay. Heart-warming to the senses, I knew I had arrived.
'No Smoking' was not going to gel well with
Abstract artwork on the walls, and equally terrible floor work, I noted.
Do walls of this colour have any reason to exist other than to dazzle and repulse visitors?
What’s left of a half kitchen, the units pulled out, overturned and destroyed? It’s a scene I have seen countless times.
Equally horrible wallpaper, and the casual viewer might think there’s a party going on in the basement, complete with loud music. It’s a trick of the eye.
For the most part, the ancient beams were holding and in place. This was an exception. Cubby holes, but nothing to see besides an empty plastic bottle of 'fat' Coke.
‘Harpurhey' is a run-down suburb of north Manchester, but I expected the locals could write something legible. It seems not.
There were several levels to ‘Harpurhey District Nurses Home’ with surprisingly stable staircases. Perhaps we could even visit the top floor and live?
… or maybe not. If you're going to jump, then make sure you have some power in it.
Could there be a printer in the 'Print Room'? Sadly not.
There were plenty of fire warnings, no smoking signs and evidence of burning. Someone did not heed what was written.
Did they all run for the fire exit and go crashing down that hole on the far side left? The corridor looked a little shaky for my spider senses.
It's held there by pure magic; what else could do it?
Given there was little to see in ‘Harpurhey District Nurses Home’, I had to make use of what was left.
The basement here we come…
It was dark, dark and damp down there, yet someone had camped down and tried to sleep. What gives?
It could be an escape route, except for the rusty gauze blocking your way.
It's one of those stone tables for dissecting human bodies; there's one in every Victorian property, usually in the lowest section. Who knows how many blood sacrifices were made on this?
Once padlocked but no longer. Inside, there was nothing of value, even to the eye.
Now what are ’Closed Files’? The grisly evidence of corpses chopped up on that table?
The room contained bugger all, just like the rest of them.
Exiting ‘Harpurhey District Nurses Home' proved a lot easier than entering. An awkward jump, I can just about manage.
All in all, quite a crap explore for the expenditure of energy required to get past all the fencing and razor wire; another notch on the exploring bedpost.
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