"Just look at that..., it kind of looks like The Llama House”
While not exactly of the same style, I was wondering if a certain Welsh building company had built a job lot of these things sometime in the 1930s.
The date is just a guess and based on other things I found in “Paraffin Cottage”. As by standards set aside by the ‘Official Urban Explorers of the UK’, I had to give the house a ridiculous name to stop the many wankers from finding it.
The Llama House it may have resembled but I didn’t like what I could see from this outside of the gate. It looked suspiciously like a skip full of items that should be inside the house.
Things could be worse, there could be another BuilderDude hanging around, stripping the place bare, erecting his cabin, poncing about pretending to work, and drinking lots of tea.
Climbing over the gate and well aware of the nearby neighbours we scuttled past the skip and up to the front door; it was locked.
The back door was a different story, wide open and blowing around. Can’t people close the fucking door when they leave?
It was evident by now that the house contents were mostly in that skip. We would check it on departure.
The wallpaper was peeling in copious amounts and that familiar stench of dampness and neglect entered my nostrils.
All was not lost and some items had been spared. The books were all in Welsh and totally incomprehensibly to me, bar the Welsh towns I recognise the names of.
A few nails and this could be brought back into everyday service.
Yardley Lace is not cheap shit, quite vintage, and goes for £60 a bottle. It also goes bad after hanging around for several decades.
These were looking interesting. ‘Ministry of Food' leaflets were produced during the World War II years. Food was scarce then and tomatoes were to be cherished and not wasted.
It always gives me a thrill to see literature such as this, produced well before I was born just lying around. “Paraffin Cottage” must have existed when the Germans were bombing London, circa 1940.
Puddings without Eggs don't sound particularly tasty. Look at the artwork!
It might have looked nice out there, but it was cold. Inside was colder.
I can’t remember taking this picture, never mind figuring out what it is.
The removal people didn’t look behind the doors and missed a few things.
The book on the right set me back in shock. Was it… ‘The Book of the Dead’ from the Evil Dead? It looked truly evil and could I see an evil face on the cover?
Tentatively I picked it up fully expecting an unearthly voice to rasp out in a dreadful voice…, 'you are disturbing our eternal sleep’ followed by… ‘you will never leave here alive’.
...'finding the Book of the Dead could have been life-changing, or life-ending depending on your perspective of life'...
Source
I opened the book with trembling fingers, fully expecting it to crumble into dust, or better come alive in my very hands…
Is that it… an old bloody dictionary? We could have used some action, after all this Time Capsule was in the process of ‘going off', and by the time I write this, well and truly gone.
Passing the many boxes of Quality Street full of rotting chocolates we made for the open door intending to close it tight.
Glancing to the right, I spotted the Mini-Mastermind which immediately took me back to childhood.
I hated that fucking show, with Magnus Magnuson hosting it and the game was equally terrible. I played it once at a friend's house.
'A Game of Cunning and Logic?', more like a 'Game of Boring your Tits off'.
On the opposite side of the cottage, we spotted a shed that yielded some additional goodies.
The dates of these receipts are from 1940, Jones is an especially common name in Wales, just think ‘Tom’ and someone was buying lots of Paraffin.
Hugh Jones sold a lot of Paraffin to the owner and was much more than a fuel dealer. Look at the advertisement for 'Gold Crown Tea Tips' on his receipts.
I love this kind of stuff. I would ‘start the day well with a cup of good tea’ if only Tea Tips were still about. I tried and failed to find them on the internet.
If you can decipher the address on that receipt from 1940, then congratulations, you have found yourself a Time Capsule. I find a lot of writing from this period, quite illegible.
...not that there will be anything left by now...
Leaving the shed, we passed a lovely bottle of fresh milk. Taking a swig was ever so tempting, but like a ‘Good Samaritan’ I offered it to my colleague, @anidiotexplores who seemed less than impressed. He’s a fussy arse.
I felt some sympathy for the TV. It might have worked before it was evicted. The Welsh rain would have put an end to its short life.
The contents of the skip appeared to be mostly large goods. I wasn’t going to rummage through bin bags, which could have contained scabby, maggot-dripping, rotting chicken legs or worse.
“Paraffin Cottage” is on its last legs, as far as exploring goes. I had this sickening feeling that we were going to see these types of sights again on this very day.
My diagnosis would prove to be correct.
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