That Fxcking Tank

When the mainstream media announced to the world that a ruined little tank was sitting on an abandoned firing range, the internet had mixed reactions. Some people thought it was pretty amazing and decided that they too would venture out to find the tank. Those in the know were quick to point out that it was actually an active firing range, that they also used it for grenades too, that the hills were potentially littered with unexploded munitions, and that the media had put lives at risk with their irresponsible journalism.

The mainstream media quickly did what they always do, which is to conclude that if anything bad does happen, they'll just blame immigrants and people on benefits. "Did you have your leg blown off after we told you this patch of countryside wasn't an active firing range? Well if you had been at work, that wouldn't have happened, you lazy millenial."

As established over the past decade, my survival instinct and I aren't really on speaking terms. I decided to go see the tank.

 

To get to the firing range, one must follow this nice long road up into the hills. As you can see from the condition of the road, there's no way this firing range is abandoned.

I guess the risk of unexploded munitions should keep me on my toes. Or rid me of them entirely.

 

 

Eventually the road leads to this building, which is a bit of a mishmash of different bricks and stones, and has clearly had various modifications over the years. Presumably this is where everyone gathers when it's time to shoot stuff. On either side of the tower are walled areas similar to blast shelters, apparently used when they're throwing grenades about.

 

A quick mooch around the tower revealed that not only has it had the windows blocked off, but it's also had the ladder removed.

 

 

Or at least, mostly removed. The top of it can just be seen there. You think this will stop me?

 

 

Okay, so it's rather featureless up there, and the windows are barred. Architecturally this structure is a thing of curiosity, but I didn't dwell on it. I had a tank to find.

 

 

So this is the point of no return, hopefully in the sense that once I've passed this sign there's no turning back until I see the tank, rather than the less-fun kablooey kind of no return. The tank is there in the distance. I just gotta casually hop a fence and stroll past this sign. This will be a doddle.

 

 

See, if I hadn't disobeyed the sign, I'd never be able to appreciate the military paint on the back of it! That's a nice touch.

Onto the fucking tank! Isn't it gorgeous?

 

 

The crazy thing about this tank, and the reason I prefix it with the F-word, is that nobody in the urbex world seems to be able to agree on a damn thing about it, and some of the stuff I've read is downright absurd. Never before have my eyes rolled so much. They've been doing laps around my skull so often that they're starting to erode my sockets. Some urban explorers have claimed that this tank saw service in Afghanistan before coming here, but this has quickly been debunked by those who regularly shoot it, who claim it's been sat here for at least forty years. There's also the fact that it's a World War 2 era tank, and that leads me to my next facepalm. Some say that the tank is a remnant of a battle that took place here during World War 2.

What battle??? We're in the Midlands, not flippin' Dunkirk!

 

And then of course we have the matter of the tanks model. Some say it's an M4 Sherman. Some say it's a Canadian Ram. Some say it's a Sherman with Ram bits. Some say it's a Kangaroo. 

I'm no tank expert, but I'm gonna go with Ram. Check out the resemblance.

 

 

(Picture not mine, obviously)

See? Totally the same vehicle, albeit with a turret still attached.

As mentioned, the Ram was Canadian. After the battle of Dunkirk, the UK was left with something of a tank shortage, and the Canadians were all aboot lending a hand. The Ram was built based on US designs so that it could use components already in production. It was unleashed on the world in 1941, but it was overshadowed by the American Shermans, which became the dominant tank of choice. As such up until 1944 the Ram was used exclusively for training purposes and never combat. At least, not as a tank. Those who say this is a Kangaroo may not be wrong, because a Kangaroo was basically just an armoured people carrier created by repurposing a Ram chassis without the shooty bit .

 

(Photo not mine, obviously)

 

The Kangaroo was the brainchild of Lieutenant-General G G Simonds, who wanted to protect the infantry a bit better, and have them also capable of moving at tank speed alongside supporting tanks. To that end he had the idea of removing the turrets of disused tanks, and turning them into transport vehicles. The first Kangaroos were repurposed "Priest" tanks from the US, but these were on loan so the Canadians were quick to look at other alternatives. One hundred Rams were repurposed from the UK, neutered, and sent to France as Kangaroos. With the turret removed, its weight was reduced from 65,000lbs to 53,760lbs, increasing its mobility. 

Many other Rams were repurposed by the Dutch in 1945. They got permission from the Canadian military to make use of any disused Rams still on their land. However many of them were in poor condition and proved insufficient. The UK, ever looking for ways to get rid of its Rams, handed over 44 of their own leftovers. Some saw action in the Netherlands with additional flamethrower doohickeys added, and then in the 1950s some Ram tanks were encased in concrete with just the turret sticking out, to serve as pillboxes. Some of these can still be seen in the Netherlands today at the side of roads. I had a gander on Streetview and found a bunch. Maybe someday I'll go see them.

Somehow this Ram ended up here, turret-less and covered in bullet holes, no doubt the focal point of the folks who use the firing range. In hindsight it probably isn't the wisest decision I've ever made to go onto a firing range and mooch around the very thing everyones shooting at, but hey-ho.

 

I think at this point it's rather impossible to tell if this is a pure Ram or a neutered Kangaroo, purely because it's been here for so long and whatever happened to its gun thingie may not have been the consequences of Kangarooing, but just the end result of decades sitting on a hill having people throw grenades and bullets around. But honestly I don't know anything about tanks so I'm happy to listen to any input from people who do. Unless of course they're those silly super tank nerds. And I don't mean your average friendly person who likes tanks. I mean those weirdos who act like you're an idiot if you don't know what every single component of every single military thing is called, just because they're obsessed with bumming the army. Maybe you know the type. A few of them say that this isn't even a tank, but an "armoured combat vehicle," and that anyone who says it's a tank must have brain damage.

 

 

Now, if you have your passion, that's fine. I collect vintage Transformers, many of which are older than me. I'm a total nerd, and in no position to judge others. But you see, if I invite someone over and they know nothing about Transformers, I don't make fun of them if they can't tell me which one in the cabinet is Megatron. If anything it's a relief. That bastard is worth twice my rent.  

 

My point being, I can respect if someone hasn't got the same interests as me. You don't get that with the type of army nerds I'm describing. In addition to making fun of people who don't know everything about tanks, they don't seek to inform. They don't offer ther knowledge for others to learn from. They just want to mock people. 

 

 

But much to the disdain of tank nerds everywhere, I'm a lot like thrush. I'm an irritating cunt. If I find out that you're getting your army-print knickers in a twist over whether or not this is a tank, I will get shit wrong just to watch you squirm. 

 

I do it in Shrewsbury too: Here in my hometown we have a really pretty park called The Quarry, so called because it used to be a quarry back in the 1200s when they built the town walls. Today it's generally referred to as The Quarry Park, so that tourists know that it's a park, and actually go there. But the towns boomers tend to throw all their toys out of the pram for some reason every time it gets referred to as a park, even though it is a park. It's actually a very nice park, so I never really saw the issue.

But, I just can't help but take a great big stick to a hornets nest, whether I'm in Shrewsbury, the only town in the world where one can make a grown man cry by calling a park a park, or here in the urbex scene where I can make a grown man cry by saying that this "armoured combat vehicle" is a tank. 

"Armoured combat vehicle" just describes a tank, ya big fanny!

 

 

The interior of the tank still has all these old levers and pedals which is pretty cool.

 

 I'm guessing this is some sort of steering mechanism?

And finally there's this tiny shack nearby, but there was nothing in it.

In this picture the tank is just visible on the left hand side, with the buildings on the right. 

And this seems like a good enough place to wrap up.

To conclude, I've shoveled my way through a lot of bullshit with this blog, what with people actually thinking the tank battled the Nazis here in the Midlands. But this is the first time I've documented a tank in my blogs, so I'm pretty happy.

From an urbex perspective... look, it's on an active firing range. I can't recommend or condone anyone coming here, but neither is it my place to tell people not to do something, especially when it's something I've already done. If you want to see the tank, weigh up the risk yourself and be careful.

My next few blogs will be an abandoned pottery and then an abandoned broom factory. It's a lot more exciting than it sounds, because we're diving into the world of Victorian-era industrialness, and these places are total death traps. 

In the meantime, follow me on Instagram, Vero, Reddit, Twitter aaaand the hellsite that is Facebook, where I plan on posting this and drinking tank nerd tears because I called a turret a shooty bit. Stick meet hornets nest.

Thanks for reading.

The Artists House

 Disclaimer: I fully understand the risks/dangers involved in these adventures and do so in the full knowledge of what could happen. I don't encourage or condone and I accept no responsibility for anyone else following in my footsteps. Under UK law, trespass without force is a civil offence. I never break into a place, I never photograph a place that is currently occupied, as this would be morally wrong and intrusive, I never take any items and I never cause any damage, as such no criminal offences have been committed in the making of this blog. I will not disclose location.  I leave the building as I find it and only enter to take photographs for my own pleasure and to document the building. 

 

 

Abandoned residential places used to be fairly regular on the blog back in the day, and they were always quite popular posts. I think it's mainly because there's a sense of mystery behind them. Nobody knows why the owners seemingly vanished and left everything behind. More often than not, they're dead and had nobody in their lives who could clean up their stuff, so abandoned houses also have that sadness to them, while also slapping us in the face with our own mortality and the fact that someday this could be all our stuff sat around, forgotten long after we've gone. It's for this reason that abandoned residential sites are worth a greater level of respect than other abandoned places, because these are essentially memorials to a persons entire life. Do they get the level of respect they deserve? Fuck no, this is the urbex scene we're talking about. It's about as respectful as syphilis. But I can at least control my own actions.

The reason I stopped documenting abandoned houses so much is that I'm a lover of history. It's the story that lures me in. The urbex groups on Facebook are often littered with abandoned houses, but they always say things like "I don't know the history of the place," as if there's an elusive grand story just waiting to be found, or a mystery to be solved. The truth is the former occupants were just ordinary people. They worked for a living, they came home, they watched TV, they scratched their bollocks because nobody was looking, and they farted loudly and proudly because this was their home and nobody was around to say "Eww, ya dirty cunt" like they do to me in the queue at Sainsburys. There's only so many abandoned houses one can do before the narrative gets a bit samey.

But this one caught my attention, because it has a story. It also has a big barn labeled "art" and a World War II Battle HQ sitting in the backyard. It was the Battle HQ that actually led me here, because I mapped them all years ago so that I could swing by if I was ever in the area, much like what I've done with ROC posts. I distinctly remember pinning this Battle HQ and thinking that I'd probably never see it due to it being on residential property. When I found out that a house was abandoned with a Battle HQ in the back yard, I immediately wondered if it was this one, and was happy to see that it was. But it's still the art barn that really made this place appeal to me.

 

The home belonged to a retired research physicist called Michael, who in 2015 converted his barn into an art gallery where he held an exhibition in memory of his deceased wife, Christine. Christine had died in 2014, after the couple woke up at 2am to find their house on fire. Both Michael and Christine had made it out, but Christine tragically died in hospital. 

The exhibition offered tea and snacks, and any art sold had 50% of the profits put towards arthritis research, which had afflicted Christine to the point that she'd actually had her knee joints replaced, and likely contributed to her death, since her mobility issues no doubt slowed her escape from the burning building. It's a very moving tribute to someone Michael clearly loved very deeply, and it's also quite inspiring that he turned his grief towards something positive.

 

 

Michael himself died in 2017 at the age of 84, two years after the 2015 exhibition. 

The barn remains untouched, but maybe that's not so strange. Sometimes people who are sad procrastinate. When people say they'll do something "later," it's amazing how quickly the weeks can become months and the months become years. It completely makes sense to me that the barn remained unchanged after the 2015 exhibition. Especially given Michaels misery and his age, and apparent failing health.

And honestly, with the barn wide open and the artwork just sitting here, I'm amazed it's lasted this long mostly untouched.

 

A few urban explorers have left notes here ordering people not to vandalise or steal things, something I've not actually seen in abandoned places before. Clearly the sad story of this place has encouraged them to put some effort into preserving it.

Maybe stop handing out location co-ordinates to all your friends, their friends, and their friends friends friends sisters friends, too! That'll be a big help! 

 

 

This does go towards restoring my faith in humanity a bit. 

 

 

Here's an official document explaining the exhibition, and basically confirming what I've already explained.

 

 

There's some pottery here too, which I think was Chrstines work. She was said to have run a pottery for a bit. According to photos that I found in the house, this piece was named "Two to tango" and was originally painted grey. 

 

Unfortunatelty some of the artwork has been damaged, but this isn't at all surprising given how wide open the place is.

 

 

So Michael was born in 1933, and met Christine in Austria on a skiing holiday. In his own words, he fell for her adventurous spirit and married her in 1966. Both of them worked for the central electricity generating board, which was responsible for electricity generation from 1958 until the privatisation of the industry in the 1990s. They would regularly take their 20ft sailing cruiser out on the English channel every weekend, so it's fair to say they were pretty well off and all about living life to the full.

In 1991, getting on a bit, they purchased this land and together they built a small house, where they also farmed pigs and sheep. It was around this time that Michael discovered his love of art. 

Following Michaels death in 2017, the house has just been left abandoned, and like the barn, it's just wide open.

 

 

The front room is a bit of a tip. Given the lack of any actual furniture, or television, my guess is it's been looted.

 

 

There's more of Michael's artwork dotted around the house too.

 

 

Moving deeper into the house, things got a bit uglier. Exposure to the elements has given the place a serious mold problem.

 

 

There's some graffiti here too which is annoying, given the sad history of the place. Remember what I said about abandoned houses being deserving of more respect, but not getting it? This is what I mean. It's not even good graffiti. It's my-parents-are-siblings graffiti.

 

 

Fortunately there are better things to look at nearby. Like the mold.

 

 

Amongst the chaos and clutter, it's the untouched parts of this house that are particularly creepy and intriguing.

 

 

Here's some paperwork which was no doubt for poor Christine's arthritis.

 

 

Here's more of Michael's art.

 

 Onto the best part of any abandoned building- the bathroom.

 

 

It's alright, as far as abandoned bathrooms go. It's still in better condition than the toilets in some pubs and clubs. 

Onto the first bedroom!

 

 

There's actually three bedrooms in the house, although it's impossible to say which one belonged to which family member. Michael and Christine did have a son and a daughter, after all. But they were born in the 1960s, which means they would have been adults by the time this house was built. Perhaps Michael and Chrstine had the grandchildren over occasionally. Although I am curious to know what happened to the rest of the family, given that the house is just wide open and everything. You'd think one of them would be taking charge and securing the place and clearing out all the old art. 

 

 

Here are some old black and white photos that presumably depict Michael and Chrstines children.

 

 

This painting depicts Bolivar Point Lighthouse in Texas. But Michael is either painting from old reference images or he went there decades ago, because in real life the lighthouse is now entirely black, due to withstanding over 150 years of erosion and its fair share of hurricanes. I've not been able to find any recent photos that show it as it's depicted here. All the photos that show it like this are super old.

 

 

Onto the kitchen!

 

 

The kitchen is by far the grimmest part of the house, and I didn't stop for long. I'm sure there's probably loads of interesting things buried in here somewhere, but who wants to touch anything?

 

 

Whoever was clearing out this place must have taken one look at that washing machine, wondered how they even got it in there, thought "Fuck this," and then given up. It all makes sense now.

 

 

It seems that Michael was taking a lot of vitamine supplements. They're all over the house, and many are still in their bottles.

 

 

Yum!

 

There's a small lounge area at the back of the house that still feels quite cosy depsite the current condition. 

 

I can totally imagine what it would have been like to sit and chill in here back when the house was still habitable. And it's an interesting thought because while the initial response to the story is that it's quite sad, this is still a house that they built together and lived in for just over two decades. They grew old together here, in something they created. That is kinda nice.

 

 

Here are Michaels old paints. Since coming here, I've seen some photos by other explorers that show this paint box in the barn with all the paintings. Or at least the ones that are left. Many have since been stolen or destroyed. The paints were no doubt moved out there so that it could all be photographed together, but that nonsense isn't really for me. Rearranging an abandoned place robs it of its authenticity. And I'm not saying it was 100% authentic when I found it. I have no doubt that this place was rearranged prior to my arrival too. But all I can really do is take it as I see it.

 

 

These pictures are quite intriguing. I think thats the Queen, albeit much younger. Sneaky Michael must have gotten pretty close for these shots.

 

 

I think that's either Prince Andrew or Prince Charles sitting on the Queens left. This is a bit weird. My typical royal family urge is to drop some jokes at their expense, but it's hard to roast a child, even if that child is now a dirty nonse. 

And yeah, that goes for Charles too. He was about thirty when Diana was sixteen. Don't act like you wouldn't judge if it was a regular non-rich guy.

 

 

 

There's a characature of (presumably) Michael here. He looks a bit younger than in other depictions of him that I've seen, and it doesn't really match his style either. It looks like the kind of characature one gets at an art festival or something.

 

 

 

On this one bedroom door are some hooks for house keys, and it seemed a little weird because this is only a small room with a single bed, not at all what one would expect the primary occupant to use out of the choices here. I wonder if they had lodgers.

 

 

The room is very feminine too. The media coverage of the fire did indicate that Michael and Christine at separate beds, which I assume is because of their health conditions and Christines mobility issues. Maybe this was Christines room.

 

 

These shelves are remarkably preserved among the clutter and mess. What's up with that?

 

 

Ooooh, Top Gun and Pretty Woman recorded on the TV. Now there's an archaic blast from the past! Not so much the movies themselves but the entire concept of recording something off the television onto a giant cassette. Retro technology does come in and out of fashion. Just look at vinyl records. Some people DO collect VHS tapes, but they tend to be the official releases. The whole concept of taping something off the TV, along with the pressure to be quick on the record button during ad breaks, has been lost. 

 

 

There's loads of old photo slides on the floor too. These are pretty cool.

 

 

This old letter makes mention of a wind turbine erected by Michael on the land, and his request to feed the power generated by it into the national grid, for money. Apparently Scottish Power weren't co-operative, but I think it's pretty cool that Michael was able to independently make his own wind turbine for power. It's still in the back yard too!

 

At least, I assume this is the turbine in question. It seems to be held in place in its current position rather than erected vertically, which is odd. Maybe it's not a turbine at all but some other kind of contraption.

Back to the house.

 

 

One final room remains and it is most likely Michaels bedroom. It's full of old photographs.

 

 

Here's a photo of Christine and two children dated 2006. I assume these are grandchildren. There are loads of photos of them here, but if these kids were small in 2006 then they're still alive, and in their late teens or early twenties today, so it feels a bit creepy. Even exploring the abandoned house of a dead person is creepy, but at least the case can be made that one is documenting the life of a deceased artist. Documenting the life of a living, breathing teenager is a little harder to justify.

 

 Instead I'd rather focus on Michaels other photo album, which documents all of his art work!

 

 

Among the photographs of Michael and Chrstines art, there was this funky statue called a Han Dancer, which makes reference to the Chinese "Han" ethnicity. The Han Dynasty ran from 202BC to AD220, and were quite big on producing pottery dancers in this style. Their dancing was very acrobatic, and as such the statues from the era often depict the dancers with their limbs doing all kinds of weird and wonderful stuff. But what's really cool about Michael and Christines Han Dancer sculpture is it's still in their garden exactly as pictured in their photographs.

 

 

Although the garden is a bit more overgrown and neglected than it was when the Han Dancer was first photographed.

 

 

What I really love is that even though the couple sold their art, every piece was photographed and kept in this album, so that even if their pieces were scattered around the world, the collection remained complete in their home.

 

 

Mousehole Harbour is down in Cornwall. Given that Christine and Michael loved taking their sailboat out on the channel at weekends, it makes sense that they've spent time here.

 

 

Lymm Dam is a lake near Warrington. Apparently Michael and Christine moved there in the 1970s.

 

 

Here's a photo of the Bolivar Lighthouse painting that I found elsewhere in the house!

 

 

 Here we have Michael's self portrait and also Chrstine, which is quite nice.

 

 

There are photo albums here too, for Michael and Christines two children, Gerard and Pamela. Gerard was baptised in 1968.

 

 

Pamela was baptised in 1969. I'm not too comfortable posting photos from these albums, because these two might still be alive today, and it's a bit weird. 

But what's weirder is that if they are alive today and have spawned their own mini-humans, why has nobody come and taken care of this house? Surely someone would care that their parents or grandparents home is wide open to the elements, and that their art is being ransacked and destroyed? Surely even if the rest of the house was left to ruin, the old photo albums would be worth saving?

It's the apathy that makes the story tragic, not the deaths. Michael and Christine fell in love and lived happily ever after. That's great! But the fact that nobody cared enough to take care of all this stuff is really sad.

There's a few more out-buildings to check out, including a couple of barns.

 

 

Here's the old coal shed.

 

 

This barn had a platform that was impossible to get to without standing on a really rickety table and climbing up. Naturally, I had to. There's a table and chairs up there with a load of documents.

 

When I got up there, I found that every single piece of paper was blank. Someone had done this as a prank, to get people to climb up for no reason! Well played! You totally got me!

 

 

Also in the garden is this cross monument that was allegedly erected for Christine following her death. That's quite touching.

 

 

And here we have an Austin minivan. I somehow doubt it will be going anywhere soon. But what really interests me is behind it.

 

 

It's a Battle HQ! Basically, these were built during the early days of the second world war, and can generally be found on pretty much any land that was an active airfield back in the 1940s. The majority of it is subterranean, with just the observation room sticking up above ground. A few feet away, one can usually find the access stairway.

 

 

In this case, the stairway has been filled with dirt.

The Battle HQ's main purpose was to provide a base from which the defence of an airfield could be organised if they came under attack. The majority of them are built identical, but when the war progressed to the point that a Nazi invasion of the UK was less and less likely, many Battle HQs became redundant and disused before the war was even over. It's very rare to find one with anything in it other than rain water. 

But I love them. They're unusual quirky remnants of one of the most important conflicts in human history. And underground stuff always gets me excited.

 

So it seems that Michael and Christine built their home on the remains of an old war airfield. The airfield in question was built for the RAF in the 1940s specifically to defend the cities of Liverpool and Manchester from the German air raids. But when the Luftwaffe changed their attack tactics, the airfield became surplus to requirements, and was handed to the Royal Navy Air Service in 1942. They regularly used it to send planes to aircraft carriers out in the Irish Sea. The North-East portion of the airfield ended up being used to repair and modify various aircraft such as Barracudas, Fireflies and Fulmars.

As is often the case with old World War 2 airfields, people died here through sheer random happenstance. In 1943, three members of the Womens Royal Naval Service, and three naval airmen were killed on the way back from a local dance when the truck they were riding in overturned. 

There were a couple of plane crashes too, in 1953 and 1955, during which time the airfield was used by three naval air squadrons. It was also used briefly to dispose of American planes after the war.

The airfield itself closed in 1958, and by the time Michael and Chrstine built their house here, there was an industrial estate on some of it and a road cutting through the old runway. A few of the buildings probably do survive, ruined and scattered. But Michael and Chrstine managed to get the Battle HQ, which is kinda cool. Who wouldn't want one of these in their gardens?

 

 

The access hatch is still here, which means it's possible to get into the observation room.

 

 

This was the Observation Room, where the little crack around the top would have given anyone in here a 360 degree view of the entire area, from relative safety.

 

 

Alas, the rest of the Battle HQ is flooded, but basically this would have been the Defence Officers Room, at the bottom of the stairs leading down from the observation room. There are diagrams online that show the Battle HQs basic layout.

So the hatch is the emergency exit, and the last photo is taken from the steps peering into the Defence Officers Room. As you can see, there's much of this that has completely eluded me due to the flood water, and that boils my piss a bit. There's even a toilet, and I'll never be able to see if it's in better condition than the toilets in some pubs and clubs. Although even under a few feet of dirty stagnant water, it probably is. 

 

But in all likelihood, the Battle HQ was empty anyway. I have found one non-flooded Battle HQ before, and it was fun, but it was a shell. But what really intrigues me is that in my photo, it's possible to see the horizontal brickwork in the Defence Officers room that would have supported a table at one point. No such brickwork existed in the one Battle HQ I've actually made it into, and that intrigues me. There might be other fixtures completely escaping my notice. 

 

But that's all I've got today. In conclusion, I think it's natural to find the story of this place a little bit sad. But thinking on it logically, Michael and Chrstine had an entire lifetime together, they settled down in this house that they built themselves, and they died within a few years of each other. But for any love story, isn't that the best possible ending? I mean if that's not the most desirable outcome of any relationship, then what's the point in them? The other outcomes are break ups and heartbreak. These two didn't have that. They won. And sure, death is sad but it's also inevitable. They knew that. We all know that. They still spent their lives together and happy. That's the most any of us can ever hope for. 

The sad part is that their family didn't clear up after they'd gone. What's up with that?

From an urbex perspective, houses are great for beginners or those with mobility issues or any other restriction that stops you from being able to do things with more challenging access. They aren't for everyone, and that's okay. The building is structurally intact which makes it a relatively safe explore. The one main hazard is all that mold. Don't bring your favourite lungs. 

My next blog post is an abandoned tank. And then, it will be an abandoned pottery. They're pretty cool. The tank is photogenic and will make a nice snack blog. 

In the meantime, follow me on Instagram, Vero, Reddit, Twitter and Faceboomer, and pray that the algorithms actually show you when I update my blog. A lot of people ask me if I've stopped blogging. No, I still blog. Facebook's just shit

Thanks for reading!