"Are you going in there?" said the spiky-haired urchin riding on what looked like a home-made cycle.
He wasn't the typical little shit we tend to expect, just a curious whippersnapper hardly intent on our well-being and being a nosey bugger.
"It's trashed…, everyone has been in", he continued, cycling away in a haphazard combination of straight lines and more circles. Bloody wierdo.
I glanced at 
This is what comes with Urban Exploring, the bad with the bad, mixed in with the odd gem.
We climbed over a gate and gazed at the target. It was a bad-looking, oversized house with many boards between us, and it being conquered.
"It's trashed…, everyone has been in"… echoed the words in my head.
It can't be that hard to get in if the local scroats had already vandalised it.
Come and stay with us, they say. A little digging revealed that Abbyfield House was sold in 2022 for £300,000, and that the chain is shutting down many of their care homes as they are not sustainable.
Considering the charge OAP's £ 1,500 for care and paying the staff peanuts, I must be missing something. Whoever bought this shithole for £300,000 must be cursing, and we were about to find out the truth of what was inside.
We walked around the rear and found plenty of broken windows, which would be more suited for kids to scramble through, but I can't recall any issues. Use gloves, or many cuts and scratches will soon come your way; my motto.
The entrance room gave us a glimpse of what we were in for. Probably some paperwork, personal records (there is no privacy when a place closes down), and if we were very unlucky, some unruly teenagers smashing the place up.
Lucky for us, it was deadly quiet inside. I looked at the application form with interest. Working at a Care Home is the bottom rung of the employment ladder in England, lower than even Supermarket work. Who wants to clean up old lady's shitty arses?
No holes in the wall, was there some hope left for ‘Abbyfield Care Home’?
It used to be a bed, what’s left of it.
It appears there are links between the staff at Worlsey and Accrington. That's a fucking long meeting, with a long lunch and in the afternoon, there's no substance, just fluff.
What, no personal details? I tend to expect it, and should have dug a little deeper.
Someone broke down the door. Isn't it easier to just turn the handle and enter that way?
A perfect swirling brown carpet mosaic, that's meant for someone over eighty. Very apt.
Busting the doors seems to be a recurring issue here, although leaving the toilet intact kind of makes up for it.
It was in better condition than I expected after the young whippersnapper on the bike told us otherwise, but we have been in some terrible holes.
Some burning, the start of the word 'NIGGER' perhaps, a staple in derelict properties and a downtrodden piano, not bad at all!
Playing it was out of the question; it existing and being where it should be was surprising.
Now that’s what I tend to expect, the chairs upturned just because it’s possible to do that to a chair.
These are 'Statin' capsules to lower your LDL's, or bad cholesterol. It shouldn't be too surprising to see a box hanging around in a place like this. The name gave it away before I checked on them.
I find it a lovely touch that the local supermarket should donate a shopping trolley to the care home. All the resident now has to do is wheel it down the footpath for 2 miles, and when they arrive at the store, they are armed with their food-collecting vehicle.
The information board is packed with interesting tips to survive a care home.
10 days and you are fucked 'Legal Occupier'. If I were named 'Mr or Mrs Occupier', I would be positively quivering at the knees.
If you recognise that type of connector, then you are certified ‘old’. Take it from me.
What a delightful toilet, would you like to see what’s inside?
A shame about the ceiling, I was starting to think ‘Abbyfield Care Home’ could be salvageable.
I figure the writer of this billboard wrote all this stuff, sat down and then chain-puffed on twenty cigarettes; a reasonable assumption?
Blimey, somebody.. or something ate the bottom half of the bed.
The exit could have been easier except the front door was boarded up, making these keys quite useless.
Never step inside a lift in an abandoned building, even if you are ravenous and those Corn Flakes look like gourmet heaven.
A door that has not been smashed to pieces; I took the sight in and savoured it.
Try giving them a call, say it’s an emergency, I would.
Now you know what old dears drink when nobody is looking, and I don't mean the empty water bottles.
We exited, seeing not a soul. These devices were attached to the exterior wall, letter boxes of some type, with combinations?
As of 2025, 'Abbyfield Care Home' appears to be still vacant and a lot more overgrown than when we visited. Another lost cause, I feel.
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