The externals are grabbed from google maps.
Why?
Well therein lies a tale to tell, grab a cold one, chill, slip into something comfy put up your feet and read on.
I first visited this place about five years ago,2019, but it actually looked inhabited, the lawns cut and tidy, and you get that feeling now and again saying, "nah no good move on", especially as there was nowhere to park close by even to take a quick peak. I slinked off to look elsewhere.
The screenshots are taken from 2009 street view, I guess the last time google went spying on people. Anyways fast forward to 2024, I had heard on the grapevine, the jungle drums, the secret whispers and gossip that it was "doable".
Source. The cast of Deliverance (welsh version)*
...........and so it was I rocked up a couple of weeks ago, parked the car a good mile away, not out of choice but that was the nearest option, strolled back looking to all the world like one of those weird ramblers who believe the world owes them a right of way wherever. Well to be honest nothing like a rambler, I do not use a walking stick with badges attached of places visited nor wear socks with sandals, nor do I have a big curly grey beard.......... and that is just the women.
So after a mile or so walk after parking the car I got here climbed the five bar gate, the lawns still neatly cut, the windows to the house dark and grey and cobwebs over the handles of the only door....it hasn't been open in a long time.
Glancing down the side of the house, through some overgrown prickly stuff and a bunch of nettles another door and a couple of windows.....Hmm!
Back into the lane , the only way is crawling through a small gap in the hedge, now about 8ft tall, unkempt and fucking difficult. The garden area totally returned to nature. One abandoned property. First window solid, door solid, final window, wooooo hooooo, opened like a flower on a warm spring day.
IT IS DOABLE!
So in I landed, a relatively tidy room, that belied the grot to come
Lovely ancient Sepia photographs and quaint holiday souvenirs
I kid you not, these are just a few of dozens of funeral pamphlets lying in a box on the floor. Now and in times gone by these small welsh farming communities were very close knit and devout church goers, coupled with the love of singing, I guess a funeral was a grand day out for some.
A local community newspaper, Y Gadlas, in remarkable condition considering these editions are over 40 years old. Published only in the welsh language, now available online and with a facebook page to boot
Let the grot
Commence
The room was coated in some sort of brown film, much like back in the good old days when pubs allowed smoking and the ceilings would be a lovely off shade of brown....well the pubs that as a 14yr old I frequented did.
A wall planner from 2014 now peeling from the wall, maybe suggests the year the house became abandoned, for search as I have I can find nothing recorded about it or the people whose names appear on paperwork within.
As well as the gorgeous vintage snaps, I loved the bottle of medication, "muscle oil" prescribed by a Richard Williams, bonesetter, of Pwllheli. what the fuck is a bonesetter ???
I mentioned that these small communities were devout, the christian lord's prayer hanging up in your main living room.
Even the cobwebs are black, never seen anything like that before
A few winner's rosettes from local dog shows, untouched by the detritus around us.
The kitchen and bathroom were next, they were just as wonderful
Is that not strange? I thought so, amidst all the old grot, clean very clean spray bottles of bleach. How did that get there, they have obviously never been used.
The paint peeled the plaster walls crumbling
Through a heavy brown curtain, best to keep the draught out when the air blows through: the locked back door, laden with heavy coats from another space in time, no doubt worn at the crack of dawn on a cold frosty winter's morning, layers adding some warmth, dragging the farmer away from the growing heat of the freshly lit open fire, no luxurious central heating here.
YES, we are going up
At the top of the stairs there is darkness
How much a night would you pay to stay at this airbnb (or other quality suppliers of overnight accommodation)
Surrounded by the creaks and sounds, could you sleep soundly, the only thing to fear is your own inner voices and imagination. If the paranormal knobheads found this place what sensationalist bullshit they would come out with. Preying on the gullible and needy.
The main bedroom not as decayed and with more lovely treasures
Let me explain to the youngsters who have got this far ( anyone younger than 40yrs!!)
This is a television, black and white picture AND you had to get up to switch channel, of which you had a choice, if you were lucky, of three!
and this my dear friends is a non DAB radio from the 1950's placed so as to get better reception on LW/MW/SW (that's long medium or short wave). I loved these radios when I was growing up, twiddling away with my the knob, tuning into hear strange languages from stations as far away and as exotic as Hilversum, Lille, Luxembourg, Warsaw and Moscow, to name but a few, pretending to be a spy listening in to coded messages barely discernible through the white noise. Happy days.
Official Govt. documents from 1945 and 1951 recording payments and arrears for Mr. R Davies, into the mandatory national insurance and pension schemes
In 1961 it seems that Mrs C Davies lost a brother, and a donation was made from his funeral service to Imperial Cancer Research to the tune of £16.5s (£450 today).
In 1962, Mr G Davies as beneficiary, inherits £700 from an uncle's estate (£18k in todays money)
I have rushed this place sadly, just half an hour where I could have spent hours
"just a line to you that I got home before the light got out, about 10 o'clock. Harry was home before me about 9 o'clock, wright(sic) you a letter soon jack, from bob"
The post card addressed to a John (jack) Davies of another farm ( wonder if this is the deceased uncle?) is ever so quaint, what do we do now ? we text to say " home safely, great night cheers". Back in the day with not even any proper phones one sends a postcard which probably took a week to arrive! Happy days'
I now find out that the green George 5th half penny postage stamp on the postcard, was only in circulation between 1911-1912, it is rare and could be worth between £250 and £450. Let us just hope that the scrotes who call themselves explorers but really just steal and trash places miss this. Thankfully those that have been here before me missed it too.
The End.
BUT..........back to the externals, there aren't any of my own; this is due to the fact that they are the last thing to snap, I never waste time with externals unless I get in the property.
A close shave .... as I was climbing back out the window I heard it then I saw it a Series one , the staple vehicle of a welsh farmer, slowly travelling along the lane. FUCK!. I managed to navigate the hedge this time at a slightly faster pace, thank fuck for ripstop clothing.
It had pulled up outside the gates...and was empty. Now to get to my car I would need to walk past said Landy, thats a bit of a give away as they would have past me and seen me on the lane. FUCK. So orf I jolly well trotted in the opposite direction.
Thank fuck for the public right of way across farmers land, couple of hundred yards and the famous yellow on green finger post. Turn around walk back.
Smile and wave as a pale blue Landy drives past me. Happy Rambling
Thanks for visiting my page, I am pleased to make your acquaintance. this is Stephen aka, 
