I had no clue what this was, besides it being labelled 'Time Capsule'. 
Having parted in Dewsbury as I think he was getting earache from 'the missus' about desertion, it was a case of three becoming two.
We were now deep in West Yorkshire where they talk funny, and 'boots' are pronounced 'boowets'.
Stick about long enough and the pronunciation contamination seeps into your dialogue. We would need to get in and out quickly or develop serious speech impediments.
It was the top house, but the bottom one looked just as neglected and both deliciously isolated in the middle of nowhere. Unless a bunch of Karen's were camping on the grounds it was looking like a breeze, if only we could get in.
To this date, ‘The Bungalow’ appears to be off the Urbex radar, no squads of goons seem to have invaded the place. Maybe it’s sealed, and sold now? This was some time ago.
After parking up, we vaulted a small wall and approached the property. There was nobody about, just the way we like it.
If it had an identity, then time had faded it out. It was now simply, ‘The Bungalow’.
I much prefer ferns to those nasty stinging nettles that inhabit the UK wilderness like Triffids. You can safely stand and crush these without any repercussions.
'The Bungalow' looked very sealed and what's more the cheap wood seals were new. I saw no 'For Sale' signs anywhere.
What a lovely property, detached, and with plenty of garden area. It is located in Yorkshire, so at least you can get decent fish and chips while devouring it with that fucking awful beverage... ‘Yorkshire Tea’.
I was looking impenetrable until, ah……
I found it first for once and was through the window with an enthusiastic 
The first thing I noticed was the 'lad's hangout area'. They must have been young as it was all tins of 'Monster', soft drinks, and a small ball. Did they break in, and did they sleep here?
That day, we were alone in ‘The Bungalow’, always the preferred option.
The contents had been ransacked but there was plenty to look at. Like many others, the previous owners had simply taken off and left all their stuff behind.
Lots of those Halford's car manuals along with car magazines. It doesn't take much to build up a picture of the type of person who lived here.
I found some bills and correspondence next which identified the owners' name but were much older than expected.
2004, that’s almost 20 years ago? Leaving a house empty for that length of time would ensure a lot more damage than what I was seeing.
I had to blur the addresses on these for privacy's sake, but there were two postcodes, neither of which linked to the one we were visiting.
Mr. John E. Cleland, obviously did live here and more recently than those old bills state. Even in those days, he was struggling to pay bills and had British Gas chasing his arse.
In 2005 he sold this property, possibly to move into ‘The Bungalow’. Some more digging for papers could have revealed more but I was looking for a few choice shots.
A very saveable dresser, possibly from the ‘MFI Prestige’ range, before they went bankrupt.
I have no doubts that it worked, and that Mr. Cleland was one of those 'car freaks'.
The kids had made a mess and probably stole a bunch of items while at it.
Do people really stack up all their belongings like this before eloping to escape the authorities?
I hoped he was not a ‘Magic the Gathering’ player. My ethics and morals would be severely tested if I came across a folder full of Beta ‘Black Lotus’ cards, in mint condition.
Cornish Humbugs I can deal with, even if they are made with 'real butter'.
What was I saying about 'Yorkshire Tea'?... Urghh.., give me PG Tips anytime.
Plenty of glasses those lads could use for their pop instead of drinking out of the can. You may as well make use of the local amenities if possible.
Why not dip a decaying rancid chocolate biscuit into your beverage while at it?
I have to assume Mr. Cleland is an old dude. I'm old but not into this kind of dinosaur material that would be more suited to my father.
Now those are classic and in good condition. I mean the Beatles CD's, not the antique Kodak camera sitting above them.
A picture was forming of the previous owner, the pieces fitting together. I can't criticise him for enjoying a little titty.
An old cooker, along with a whole host of other junk. That must be
Is it Mr. Cleland decades ago? The photograph was creased and worn.
We left, closing the window with best endeavours. From the roadside, it was not visible.
'The Bungalow' is in great condition and badly needs to be saved before the idiots find it. No graffiti, little vandalism, and currently a hideout for a bunch of 10-year-olds.
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