“Sally’s House” was frustratingly central; a little like the mansion on the hill but next to a busy main road, and with a high wall surrounding it.
"The last time we came, you could walk up the driveway and saunter in", said 
I was aware of “Sally’s House” when it was hitting the tour bus. The problem was the distance, it was too far for just one visit and in 2020 there were many more low-reaching fruits to conquer nearby.
Source
...'I knew Sally's House was no time capsule, not any more..., I was too late for that'...
The time was 4.15 pm and a five-foot wall was in between me and the house. A gap between the hedges atop helped; the masses of annoying school kids walking nearby watching me struggle to haul my body up was most definitely not.
“Go on lad, you can do it”, came the jeers from behind me. I didn’t look but was dimly aware of a group of teenagers approaching my position.
Lad! I bloody wish, but it did inspire me with temporary superhuman strength. I hauled with all my might having no footholds to use on the annoying smooth wall, and rested my knee on the very sharp top edge of the wall.
That fucking hurt, I thought at the time but the adrenalin had kicked in, and was working overtime.
My shoulder kind of hurts, I thought, getting my body upright and wading through the bushes which gave me a first glimpse of "Sally's House".
The surrounding grass had gone into overdrive, nothing I am not used to and
"We need to check the back", he said face twisted in disappointment at the many secure boards; the back was nearly always the place of entry.
Access turned out to be simple, through a window and into another burnt mess. I was feeling a little pain from climbing the wall but nothing too serious.
Having seen some lovely images of "Sally's House" before the burning, I stared in dismay at what was once a piano. There would be no playing today.
Some of the old mansion had been spared, sure there was smoke damage but it was not all burnt. Most of the contents unfortunately had gone west.
One of these days, climbing through a window and relying on the inner landing platform NOT to collapse is going to end in serious tears.
Mine would be full of open cuts, wounds, scrapes, and lashes if I didn't wear the skiing gloves I bought from JD Sports; asking shopkeepers for 'Urban Exploring Gloves' results in funny looks and confusion.
Filing cabinets rarely want to open; being metal they rust and seize up. In this case, the former top secret documents hidden within were long gone.
Who would paint their walls in Royal Blue paint, uck…, not to my tastes?
There was little point pining about what was up there. This area had caught fire, or at least those former stairs had.
What a wonderful piece of the past. It was completely fucked, would never work again but was waiting for us nevertheless.
In the days before the radio stations were labeled 'Radio 1, Radio 2', they must have been named 'BBC 4'. This was the former family entertainment unit and a deluxe model looking at the size of it.
I should have tried the taps. Water likely would not come out, and I was not thirsty enough to sample some if it did.
Nature was attempting to infiltrate despite the solid wooden exterior seals.
“Sally’s House” was named as such due to the many scrawled references on the walls. I had seen none as yet.
The décor was getting ever worse, even the fireplace was boarded up. Any misguided Santa's would get stuck down the chimney, and unless expert climbers, would starve to death after eating all the chocolate gifts.
We ended up back in the ‘Piano Room’. This one was never going to utter a single note again.
Noting the lack of blood attached to this hair, I guessed it was not the result of a scalping but some cheap wig possibly used by one of those 'transformer dudes'.
Severe smoke damage and full of not very interesting items.
I am sure it’s a cock but a very strange example. Could it be the ‘artist’ got the wobbles or was it a self-portrait of his own bent member?
Finally a reference to 'Sally'; I am not convinced 'Sally' lived here.
A comfortable bed for some homeless wretch; bring one of those disposable sleeping bags and you are set for a while.
Is “Sally’s House” recoverable? Yes, but it would take a huge investment to pull this house back to its former glory.
After my accident at the last explore, my risk and confidence level was at an all-time low. Nevertheless, after seeing
This was as far as I was prepared to go, at least that way.
The view from the top of the burnt stairs; there was little reason to head that way either.
When you see grass or weeds on the surface of an upper floor, keep well away.
The corridor was treacherous, and I could feel the squishy boards under my feet, but what was down there I wonder?
This was the last straw. No fucking way I going up there, regardless of my comrade's actions. He told me it was a nice view but lacking anything else.
Once again, the local facilities were out of order. How can one seriously take a piss when this continually happens?
Feeling achy I descended and we made our way out of "Sally's House".
EPILOGUE: The resulting actions of climbing the wall with that 'superhuman' strength left me with a knee injury that took around a month to heal.
Worse, an old rotator cuff injury on my right shoulder had been re-aggravated resulting in months of disturbed sleep and pain through both day and night. I had to take both Ibuprofen and 60mg of Codeine nightly to get any shut-eye.
If you have suffered a rotator cuff injury then you will know they heal painstakingly slowly, but they do if you persist despite the 'they never heal' bullshit you may read on the internet.
I had to sleep on my back and left side for six months before daring to try the right side again. To this day, (12 months later), I still feel occasional pain in my shoulder.
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