It is annoying when you can’t find even a scrap of information about a decaying property. This one is next to an old mill, and even the mill has been renamed to something else.
The architecture tells me it's a relic of the early 20th or late 19th century, yet there's a dearth of information.
The house is substantially newer and, at a guess, likely a product of the 1960s. I see many like it close to where I live, generally detached but not lookers.
We had been putting this one off as it looked like a right shit-hole. Pulling up to a very long straight road, that assumption seemed very correct. 
He was probably thinking, 'where the fuck is he', but wisely kept the noise down, as literally a second after his jump, another car pulled up right next to mine.
…'this was a comparatively empty road and you park inches from me and then fuck around getting out of your car like you are geriatrics’…
Talk about annoying. I had to lean against the wall looking around with rotating spacey eyes while whistling a non-descript tune.
The best and classic example of how to look innocent and not appear to be a wall-climbing, derp-entering, no-good trespasser on paper.
After what seemed like ten minutes the car emptied, while the ex-inhabitants traipsed down the road at approximately 1mph, looking behind frequently and sending suspicious looks.
...it's not like I want to steal your car, you set of cunts...
The wall was deliciously easy to vault, even for ageing me and I was expecting
Instead, I found him still focusing on the externals. Maybe he saw what was going on and was emanating some shreds of sympathy from the other side of the wall.
‘The Terrible Stockport House', looked very tinned (or wooded) from this angle, as well as super overgrown for an urban property. The one good thing was that it was quite isolated, with no nosey neighbours for once.
There were two ways to access the rear, and all must be checked out including this one. Use your arms to shield getting poked in the eye, and hope that none of that stuff is nettles.
The rear boasted a large garden, more like a jungle, and the house was still not letting us in. How can something so shit-looking be sealed?
…but there it was, nestling within a concealed corner, some lovely person had delicately peeled back the tin allowing us to join the crap graffiti and red cocks.
So much to see, and you didn’t need to go upstairs to get your fill. Just look up and you can mostly see the visuals skyward as well as what’s in front of you.
A lack of stairs as well as a lack of first floor boards to stand on often impede our way, but not in 'The Terrible Stockport House’. A most handy door had been propped up specifically to aid our plight.
…'
As this is so long ago, I am sure that I did go up there, but finding anything besides massive holes in the floor and in some rooms, no floor, photography was going to be extremely challenging.
However, this image of bed springs and ultimately beds under the springs confirms I made the difficult decision to break into a sweat hauling myself up.
Not for long, as walking safely everywhere was not an option, as you can see by this image once I had navigated the blue door to descend.
Tiles are generally reserved for kitchens, and if this was one it was quite large.
Then again, sporadic tiles appeared to be abundant in most of the rooms.
Yes, this house is in Stockport, Manchester, and you can even go upstairs. What are you waiting for?
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