A little research reveals the 'Shakespeare Foundry' entered administration in 2014. That's a long time to decay, be vandalised, and become very derelict.
Looking at it from those angles, 'Shakespeare Foundry' did not disappoint.
It was starting to rain and I was glad this gate happily swung open saving us from climbing onto the adjoining soaked wall and having to shimmy across. There wasn't a soul in sight, a positive side-effect of the crappy weather.
Coupe Foundry Ltd was supposedly saved according to this article.
Several months later it collapsed leading to the loss of over 80 jobs after over 100 years. If the business model is flawed, then pumping some cash into it will only succeed short term. My guess at what happened.
Source
The extremely faded sign was directing us to ‘reception’. We looked at it and figured it was hardly accommodating. A fresh cup of coffee along with a selection of fox’s biscuits was unlikely to be presented to us.
Beyond 'reception' stood a bunch of very large, very empty buildings.
Why not leave the offices until last and enjoy the plush carpets and warm hospitality after a full unguided tour of the rest of this shit-hole?
…and that’s pretty much what we saw. If only some decent artists habituated this area of the country, there was plenty of wall space for some elaborate imagery of cocks.
Untouched you might say, but who would want to touch it?
You have to make the most of what’s on offer even if it’s sending you to sleep.
The green mold stuck to the walls like bulbous green jelly emitting a foul odour strong enough to knock out a moderate-sized Ogre…. OK, there's no point in trying to spice this up, it was a load of fucking crap; there, I said it.
Pressing the buttons non-surprisingly did absolutely nothing.
'Shakespeare Foundry' afforded some panoramic views, and it was a large encampment, full of nothingness.
Far, far up in one of the many derelict supremely boring empty buildings we came upon the boss’s office. He sits in that leather recliner while the subdued employed slave who is getting a bollocking sits in the closer ‘peasant chair’.
Just look at that. Real, fake leather allowing one to look over the entire Foundry, bark orders, summon slaves, give them warnings, fire them, and demand sexual favours if you want to be retained as a terribly paid employee.
Having worked in a ‘Factory’ I have an extremely cynical opinion of the management hierarchy.
The boss can peer through these windows and look over at the entrance to determine who's late and who's to be next for that 'other chair'.
Could it be this large hook has been historically used to persuade the other Foundry workers to 'work harder' while viewing their unlucky colleague strung up there by the neck?
Threats worked or used to.
In 1974, regulations were slack, and unspoken things went on in factories such as these. I have little doubt the boss would have been subjected to many a session of pleasurable fellatio while sitting in that luxurious leather recliner.
We exited the ex-torture encampment and headed for the offices, surely it couldn’t be any worse?
Many Polaroid boxes, all empty.
A sign of the times. If there was someone in ‘Shower A’, would you step into ‘Shower B’ and feel comfortable?
The dickheads had gone to work in here, glass everywhere, and a smattering of low-quality graffiti.
Names were sellotaped onto the cubby holes, but no content within.
The shelves were empty and starting to rust.
Wooden surrounds and stairs that were surprisingly sturdy. On this occasion, I wouldn't be in any danger of falling through.
Walking on this stuff is another story. There are no pre-warnings of what's underneath or worse, what's not.
From this angle, 'Shakespeare Foundry' looks like there's a lot to go at, but those buildings down there are the ones previously featured, the ones full of not-so-fresh air and stale vintage 'boss sperm'.
It almost looks serviceable. You might think the boss of bosses lives up there, but it was not to be. It was November and the days were short. It would be dark soon and the rain continued to threaten.
We left feeling like we had explored a mill. They don’t contain anything decent either.
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