Tales of the Urban Explorer: Anne's Place

"Where is it?" I thought. There was a house here..., somewhere in the middle of this expansive mini jungle.

Unlike some of the properties we had visited this day, 'Anne's Place' was strictly in the middle of nowhere and situated on a typical Welsh pokey road that's twenty miles long and does not accommodate passing vehicles.

We had little choice but to abandon the car within the slight inlet next to Anne's gate. If another vehicle happened to pass the occupants would be very much aware of some unwanted visitors.

Undaunted, we climbed the gate and entered the jungle.

After several minutes of wading through the endless ferns, a caravan was spotted but no house. It was a start and what could be in there?

The door was open, not wide but not locked and we climbed in fervently hoping no rural Welsh tramps had taken up residence.

Inside, it made for difficult navigating as I don't tend to like standing on material items and hearing crunching sounds under my feet.

If they are Welsh dragons, they should be green, not orange.

This book took me back to another time when I was an astrology geek at the age of sixteen and read Linda's book cover to cover. My copy got lost somewhere, but I was in no hurry to refresh my astrological memory.

This was in lovely condition with just the odd spider hanging around the edges. I would bet that it's in working condition.

Of course, you need to tapes to play in the portable recorder/player. Anne had a diverse taste, and liked Roxy Music, but felt the need to rip off their songs and not buy them. The Stranglers is an interesting pick!

@anidiotexplores concentrates hard while staring at the caravan wall hoping that enlightenment might come to him in a decisive rush. I felt the interior contents were more interesting, but we all have our needs.

It was a little dusty but in lovely condition just like the portable unit. Anne liked music while taking a change from living in the house to bed down here for a few nights.

...Oh yes..., what house?...

After some more wandering through ferns, bushes and all things green we had our... 'Ah there it is', moment. I was starting to wonder if it was a fable and did not truly exist.

Getting closer was a little challenging but not to the level of some of the other Welsh venues we had visited.

No problems getting in this one, there was a door but it was broken and looked like it had been forced at some point.

Well now, we were not the first in here and I could spot the telltale signs of ransacking. Drawers opened and not closed, or closed badly like these is a giveaway.

Even a little graffiti on the left signalling that besides true explorers and thieves, the wankers had also been here.

Petula can't give away her hits now, I wonder if that was once a free CD nestled within the pages of an old Sunday Express?

No wallpaper and green slime edging your windows, it is hardly homey.

In today’s world, no wallpaper is a thing, but then?

Up the stairs, treading the red carpet and what do we see.. a door pulled off its hinges, is that really necessary?

I can't imagine Anne leaving the house in such a state, with items thrown around everywhere. If there was any jewellery you can bet its long-sprouted legs and gone.

A bedside cabinet with the items resting as they should be. No doubt the drawers have been searched already and who’s that in the photograph?

Is that Anne possibly in the 1960s when young; same person or different, what do you think?

1981 is old but not old as in before I was born. I prefer them from the 1940s myself but you can't choose.

If that's the surrounding gardens..., well there's a difference between tamed (then) and wild (now).

Anne the ex-vixen and Anne the old lady? How time fucks us all up the arse when it comes to our external facial visage.

I don’t see any ‘Mr’ clothes, she must have lived here alone and died alone. A sad case.

48 bags of giant Smarties; what would an ageing old lady want with those?

I don’t like climbing over belongings as you then have to climb back to escape. The amounts of times I hear breaking glass under my feet is uncountable.

The door at the bottom right of the stairs was not actually a door at all. A strange kind of style?

No picture covers for the 45's, she must have been a late buyer.

So Anne had been ill, this is tough reading but I managed to make that part out.

If it was in Welsh I would be truly fucked, but even so, this writer (same as above) makes reading hard work.

At least ‘Mum’ can write. AA – Alcoholics Anonymous. Were they both pissheads?

Hopefully worn 60 years ago and not when Anne was on her last legs. Who did she entice with this underwear? blokes.., did she swing both ways or just the other way?

I should have looked a little closer at those pills. It does say Miss, but not Anne. Did she have a lesbian live-in lover.., the enigma grows.

What is that, I thought... 'safe', but with a temperate gauge?

A sturdy-looking roof…, for now.

That's what you call a mature vintage, a little off-coloured maybe?

Good old ‘Mum’ again, the legible author. Cutting I suppose is a plant or flower. Nothing sordid, that would require some digging and we don’t tend to linger for hours in one house.

Some might call it ‘The Budda House’. There was one of those floating around the scene years ago, I wonder if it was ‘Anne’s Place’.

What a wonderful exploration, they don't come better than this.

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