"This is one weird way in", I muttered to 
I have not seen bombed or war-torn locations, but the rear of “The Red Lion" could come close. It was tough navigation, but we worked around the huge stone slabs, bricks, half destroyed wooden beams and entered the lower area of the old pub, which appeared to have been built on a steep hill.
As we would find out later, the front (and cover image) was a good fifty feet higher. The developers of yesteryear had some strange ideas in their heads.
The Red Lion dates back to the 1820-1840 period, shortly before Victoria took the reins. In 2008, it ceased trading, and it is hardly a coincidence that this coincides with 'The Great Recession'.
In December 2017, it suffered a significant arson attack, damaging the floors, roof, and interior. Two years later, the property had fallen into serious disrepair, with the roof collapsed, vandalism, and mindless graffiti added.
...'just how I like them'...
...'The Red Lion circa 2009. It looked like a pub once, not a decaying Mediterranean Villa'... - Source
Inside ‘The Red Lion', it was tough to figure out what used to be what, the damage being so extensive. Yet I remember having a feeling it was quite photogenic and had an atmosphere.
The aforementioned graffiti, penned by the mindless local delinquents, is of extremely poor quality.
With 'The Red Lion' being built on a small mountainside, it would have needed several levels, and as burnt as these wooden steps appear to be, I tend to always have a go at ascending.
The lads in Mexborough don’t shave their balls, that’s a given.
This is what I mean by atmosphere. Some of these burnt-out shit-holes emanate little, but I felt it here. The contrasting burnt wooden areas of stairs, doors and beams gave it some character somehow.
When it was a ‘proper’ pub, it could well have been something decent.
I was wrong, almost everyone is hairy and that Ellie, what a slag.
More stable than it looks. Pure stone corridors don't tend to collapse so easily.
These types of urinals, if that's the correct definition for a smooth wall of ceramics where you 'drain the lizard' are now quite dated, with more modern shitters sporting the separate individual types of piss pots, some even with dividers.
Let's not get into the subject of 'why there are dividers', eh?
Someone has been having a good time, sitting in all this crap eating a frozen cheesecake. If I had searched harder, I might have spotted a few teeth.
Let's get back to the subject of burnt stairs. The previous ones, I did manage to climb, albeit very tentatively, but these, potentially taking us even higher, were more off-limits.
The half-asleep, dopey pigeon was also less than impressed about being disturbed.
I can't imagine certain sections of 'The Red Lion' being open to the general public like this one. In 1820, when the general population was shorter then fine, but now it's a case of regular cracked heads.
As we were unable to escape via the front door, it was necessary to descend into the bowels once again, climb back over the warzone and endure a detour of almost a quarter mile to get to the front of this sorry-looking ex-pub.
It’s somehow got that ‘Mediterranean’ look, like it should be in southern Europe somewhere, or is it just me?
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