Lime Works

Todays blog is a quirky insight into the industrial history of South Wales. Alas, time was short so it was only a quick mooch, but things like this are so often overlooked, particularly as it isn't what many urbexers would consider exciting. But there is history here. These silent ruins were once one of the biggest lime works of their time, and produced what was purported to be the best limestone in the world. 

The part of the lime works that actually resembles a building (above) is sandwiched between two huge blocks that contain the kilns. The kilns once burned limestone as part of the process of making cement. 

A casual internet search actually brings up very little on the lime works, but most sources will say that they were built in 1888 and owned by "David Owen," the owner of Cardiff's Western Mail newspaper. But then a quick look at the Western Mail newspapers history reveals something very interesting. "David" Owen never owned the Western Mail. 

Instead, two men named Lascelles Carr and DANIEL Owen became the newspapers owners in 1877.

Alas, Wikipedia then makes the error of linking this Daniel Owen to the famous Welsh novelist of the same name, a man from Flintshire who was the first significant novelist to publish books entirely in Welsh. While it's an easy mistake to make (easier to make than calling him David anyway), they aren't the same guy. 

Our Daniel Owen was from South Wales, but made himself a fortune as a timber merchant in Australia, before returning home when the mayor of Worcester informed him that the lime from his home was superior to any cement in the world due to its ability to set underwater. 

And so Daniel came back here to set up a new business empire, first becoming joint owner of the local newspaper, and then setting his sights on the limestone.  

Here we have a little pathway that leads between the building and some of the kilns. Originally there would have been rails leading through here, and likely some means of raising the carts up to the kilns.

This isn't the best shot of the kilns but I just love the way nature is slowly engulfing them. Maybe someday this will just be a big square block of vegetation. 

But what's really cool is that there's a photo of some of the old lime works employees standing in what looks like this area, with the building on one side and a big wall on the other, and rails running through the centre. 

 

(Photo not mine, obviously)

This photo is allegedly from 1907. From left to right, starting with the little boy but excluding the horse and the dog, are Clifford Prosser (the boy), Tom Evans, Dai Hopkins, Frank Brown, Jack Rees, Jack Morgan, Walter Prosser, Dai George and Ted Brown. 

These people, and their animals, are all long gone, but I think it's important to post photos like this. It's important to not lose the human element, even when exploring something that has been a ruin for a century. These people still mattered. 

I want to scrawl the usual spiel about how each one was someone's son, or someone's brother or father (even the horse and dog) but my partner said something interesting- Why is that the line people always use? Why is someone's value always measured in who they were "someone" to? These men were someone. That's all that matters. Each one had hopes and dreams, opinions and ideas. And this lime works, so often overlooked by people today, is how they put food on the table. 

Allegedly they all had swollen fingers from handling hot lime. 

I wonder if King Charles ever worked in a lime kiln. 

Check it out! We can actually see the remains of old rails protruding from this one kiln. 

The building itself is a shell, but we can still see where the upper floors used to be. 

So Henry Lascelles Carr, better known by his middle name Lascelles, came from Yorkshire where he allegedly trained to be a priest. He decided to give up that life and head to South Wales to become a journalist, and also spent some time as a councillor in Cardiff. He originally worked for the Western Mail newspaper until he purchased it with Daniel Owen in 1877. The two men also established "Daniel Owen & Co Ltd," which was a printing and bookbinding company operating out of the Western Mail offices. 

Lascelles was an efficient worker and businessman, and one hell of a problem solver. In 1893, the Western Mail offices burned down, but he was able to procure printing equipment and an office in Newport that same night, so that in the morning he could report on his own business burning down. 

Lime works had existed in the area for a while but this place was built with a bit more ambition. They wanted to bring lime works to the next level. 

By the 1750s it was becoming known that the area had a different kind of lime. It was mixed with a mineral called pozzolana, and could be used to create a mortar that could set underwater. This made it perfect for lighthouses, harbours and reservoirs. 

The engineer John Smeaton wanted to use this kind of limestone to create Eddystone lighthouse. After carrying out a few experiments he concluded that it was considerably harder than common limestone, but ultimately decided to shop elsewhere anyway. But it didn't matter, because even just the fact that he had been interested was enough to make this limestone explode in popularity, and at the time there wasn't a lime works big enough to meet demand. 

Daniel Owen had tried to make something out of this need for limestone, but his plans hit a snag. Any lime works he built in the area would be doomed if he couldn't convince the bigwigs at Taff Vale Railway to build a train line to the area. And they weren't about to do that. It wasn't financially viable. It was said that the traffic would not be enough to even pay for the greasing of the train wheels. 

Daniel would end up joining forces with a businessman named Stephen Collier who shared his dream of building a lime works greater in scale than any that already existed, and they had a meeting with Lascelles and the railway traffic manager, James Hurman. Daniel knew that his project would be doomed without a railway so he desperately wanted to get Hurman on board. 

Alas, Hurman wasn't on board. He didn't mind the gap between the train and the platform edge. 

But then to everyone's amazement and some degree of concern, Daniel Owen just went ahead and built the lime works anyway, despite having no indication that the railway would go along with it. 

Daniel, along with Lascelles, Stephen Collier and a ship owner named John Thomas, leased the land from Owen Henry Jones. This guy is quite a big name in South Wales history, his family owning Fonmon Castle as far back as 1658. He had apparently approached them, not only as a businessman who wanted to make something profitable out of his ginormous estate but also as a community man who wanted to provide work and resources to his community. 

And so against many people's better judgement, the lime works was built. 

And here's an illustration of what it looked like in its hey day!

(image not mine, obviously)

So here we can see the rails going between the central building and the smaller kilns, as well as the tramway to the top of the kilns. Wagons would have been lugged up to the top and their contents tipped in. Unfortunately any wooden structures have not survived to the present day. 

Some would say it's quite daring and possibly an act of madness to build this place, knowing that it was doomed without a rail service and knowing that the railway company wasn't compliant. But to the surprise of everyone in 1888 the railway company changed their minds completely. 

Why this happened has been the source of speculation for decades with numerous theories being put forward. Everyone said it was financially unviable. The Taff Vale Railway had absolutely nothing to gain. But in a meeting in May 1889, a chairman of the railway company had been badgered by this frequent questioning of his sanity, and eventually said that someone would have built that line eventually. It may as well have been them. 

This satisfied some critics but others saw it as more of an excuse. 

Whatever the reason, the fact that the railway coincided with the lime works opening and the fact that Daniel Owen and his chums were having it built despite seemingly having no indication of railway support, but being utterly dependent on it, seems to indicate that they were pulling some strings behind the scenes. Perhaps he and his rich cohorts just threw money at someone. 

(Image not mine, obviously)

Here's how it used to look. It's not the best shot but there are some humans in the bottom right corner to give it some vague sense of scale. 

In 1888 a gloriously long-winded newspaper article covered the lime works and their opening ceremony. It was attended by the mayor of Cardiff and the Mayor of nearby Cowbridge, the town which had been connected by this new railway. Both mayors gave speeches, wishing the lime works a bright and glorious future. The Mayor of Cowbridge went so far as to say that in the future, he wanted houses in Cardiff, Cowbridge, and everywhere else to be constructed using lime from this location. 

Daniel Owen, Lascelles Carr and Oliver Henry Jones all made speeches too. The future was bright. 

This path leads from the central building into the kiln building. 

And from there, there are couple of tunnels that lead around the kilns themselves. 

The walls of the kilns were said to be several feet thick but it was still possible to feel the heat by placing a hand against the walls. Needless to say, if you fell in, you'd be fucked. 

Each kiln could hold up to 300 tons, and could create 40 tons of burnt lime each day. 

I'm not an expert so I don't know how impressive that is. It was probably impressive in 1888 but I wouldn't be surprised if it's long been surpassed by modern technology. 

Here we can see the kiln openings. They were too small for me to squeeze my enormous flabby body through, being a glorified potato with limbs, but my phone still fits!

Allegedly children used to abseil down here for shilling bets. 

Regarding the validity that the lime produced here was the strongest in the world, I have found some publications where it came under scrutiny. A man named Mr Cox used it to build a reservoir but ten years later he found that it had decayed and was as loose as the day it had gone in. But it was concluded that he merely had a bad batch that had been improperly prepared. The lime was otherwise fine. 

But nonetheless, the railway was still financially unviable and by 1894 Daniel Owen was also struggling financially too. His lime business went into administration because "the company cannot, by reason of its liabilities, continue its business."

Times were hard and in 1895 Daniel Owen passed away, and his empire came crashing down.

But the Internet (the same sites that refer to Daniel as David, so don't get too excited) insist that the lime kilns closed in 1926. The only evidence I can find for this is the photo showing the people working here allegedly in 1907. It's certainly possible that another business used the lime works for a while, but it's also possible, especially given how often the name "David" has been regurgitated, that the internet has it all wrong. 

I don't know. 

But either way, for an entire century these lime works have stood here as the ruin of a once proud but doomed business venture. Old people recall playing in these ruins as children, and that just blows my mind. My last blog, the Boys Village, is within spitting distance of this place (when the wind is on your side) and that opened around the same time that these lime works are alleged to have been abandoned, so it's entirely possible that boys from there explored these ruins just as I am doing today. That's pretty cool. There's something awesome about something like this being enjoyed by multiple generations. 

I absolutely love South Wales. It's full of history, and it so rarely gets a mention here. I know it's not the most exciting urbex spot, at least not for those who just want youtube views and need some degree of sensationalism, but for those of us who like a good slice of history, this is pretty cool for a quick mooch. 

I will be back in South Wales in about forty-ish blogs. Hopefully I won't get kidnapped or something between now and then. My arse is pretty kidnappable. 

But anyway!

My next blog will be something unusual and bonkers, and I've never done anything like it before, so that should be fun. 

If you do enjoy my blogs and want to see more, then unfortunately I need to direct your attention to social media. Facebook is not showing my posts to half my audience, but that's because Facebook rewards rage bait, because rage builds engagement. But try following me there anyway, and see what happens! I'm also on Twitter but I don't know why. Primarily I'm trying to make the most of alternative forms of social media, so I'm on Cara, and Vero, both excellent Instagram alternatives that promote creativity instead of whoever has the plumpest wallet, and I'm on Bluesky. Follow me on these things.

Thanks for reading!

The Boys Village

While down in South Wales, I decided to swing by this old village-style holiday camp, complete with its own sports hall and chapel. 

Nearly a century ago this place would have been full of life as numerous youths took part in various activities. 

In recent years most of the buildings have gone. In fact there's even less now than there was at the time of writing. Work is underway to bring this patch of land back to life. But as numerous movies have shown us, bringing something back from the dead doesn't always have attractive results. We won't be getting back the holiday camp that we lost. Instead the chapel, converted into a house, will be surrounded by other, not-so-pretty houses. 

Aerial views of the village show us what it used to look like.

(Image not mine, obviously)

All that stood on my visit was the former sports hall (top corner), caretakers bungalow (bottom corner), canteen (that long pointy-ish building on the left side of the grass square) one small accommodation block (that building along the bottom side of the grass square), a larger accommodation block (right corner), and the chapel (the chapel-like structure that  resembles a chapel). In the middle of the grass park is a monument to those who either worked or holidayed here, and died in the two world wars. 

The other buildings were dorms named after various former staff members, although I'm pretty sure the long one near the road was a conference suite for admins and whatnot. Apparently there was a concert hall too.

Most of these buildings were destroyed before I got there, and lacking a drone I'm unable to show you a comparison view of how it looked on my visit. Luckily a certain Doctor can save the day, because an episode of Doctor Who was filmed here. 

(screenshot from Doctor Who, Season 12: Ascension of the Cybermen)

Hmm... They may have embellished things slightly with CGI there, but it's unmistakably the same place, albeit now serving as the final human settlement after the rise of the Cybermen. 

Or something like that. I've never actually watched Doctor Who. I watched this episode, obviously, and I know the basics. British accent, fancy gadgets, regularly changing actors, etc.

I think James Bond may be a time lord, too.

As well as Doctor Who, the holiday camp has been used by various rock/metal bands for their music videos, most notably "Funeral for a Friend."

But long before that this summer camp was the brainchild of two men, the likes of which the world sure could do with more of. 

David Davies was a philanthropist, president of the Ocean Coal Company and allegedly the first Welsh millionaire. His empire spanned a huge chunk of South Wales, but he was well aware that the coal industry was rather lugubrious for the common folk. 

After serving in World War One, David Davies became passionate about achieving world peace, and many of his philanthropies were towards the betterment of human kind. He helped form the League of Nations, the predecessor to the United Nations, with the goal of preventing another world war. We all know how that played out, but the intent was still good. His ideology and writing carried forward and influenced the United Nations charter. He also helped set up numerous hospitals across Wales and founded the Temple of Peace in Cardiff in 1938. 

Some call him the Peacemonger, and I wish we had more millionaires like him. 

(Photo of David Davies not mine, obviously)

He met a chap called J Glyn Jones when they served together in the first world war. Davies was so impressed by Glyn-Jones skills and values that after the war, he recruited him as the welfare officer at the coal company. 

J Glyn Jones felt that local kids had nothing to do but loiter and cause mischief. He wanted every boy to be a member of some sort of club that provided healthy exercises and activities, and promoted good values. He believed that boys had a responsibility to their community, and that they were the building blocks of the future. If world peace was to be achieved, it began with the children. But first they needed to be given direction. 

Again, definitely the sort of bloke we need more of. It was said that no other Welshman has done more to help boys help themselves. 

(Photo of J Glyn-Jones not mine, obviously)

J Glyn Jones said of the boys that came here "They are the first reserve of manhood, and our reserve should be trained in a real boys club."

It's dated terminology, for sure. Let's not get started on the omission of girls from any topic regarding teaching values to the young. But the wording is a product of the era. If these guys had existed now, and weren't born in an era where the average woman's career choices were either housewife or asylum inmate, I'm sure they would have been more inclusive.

In 1923 J Glyn-Jones went to a youth camp in Kent with the children of some of the coal company's miners, just to get them all away from the filthy air. David Davies decided to go check up on them. The two men absolutely loved the youth camp and the happiness it brought the children. They concluded that they needed one closer to home. 

After a £5000 donation from the Recreation Union and J Glyn-Jones persuading the Ocean Coal Company to part with £300 for equipment, this holiday camp opened in 1925. 

We'll start with the sports hall, now engulfed in graffiti while the roof falls apart. 

Inside we can see the basket ball hoop still hangs and the lines on the tarmac are still visible. Think how many generations of children have played in here. 

Here's a photo of it from its heyday. 

(Photo not mine, obviously)

And check it out. There's a photo of Prince Phillip standing right next to that door over there back in 1968.

(Photo not mine obviously)

Is it just me or does he look kinda dead, even in 1968? 

We can also see the sports hall in Deaf Havana's music video for their song "I'm a bore, mostly," from 2011. 

(screenshot from Deaf Havana music video)

That little walkway along the back has some interesting poppy graffiti.

And then down below, Satan is barfing some graffiti.

The Boys Village opened in 1925 with capacity for 120 boys, aged twelve to eighteen. Its goal was to offer boys an escape from the polluted and unhealthy atmospheres of their home towns and give them a positive experience near the coast, and let them actually be kids, while also teaching them values and shaping them into decent people. 

Boys from mining backgrounds, either the sons of miners or miners themselves, could pay fifteen shillings (75p) to come here one week a year. For many, such an opportunity was an absolute blessing. 

The Village only opened for an experimental two weeks to see if it was a hit. It was, but it needed some serious adjustments. For starters, it didn't even have running water. Luckily some welfare sources were sought out thanks to a donation of about £3500 in 1926. In 1928 the camp also hosted a conference of various leaders from similar clubs, and this led to the formation of the "South Wales Federation of Boys Clubs," giving the entire concept some unity across South Wales.

But given that there was a huge miners strike in 1926 due to wage cuts and longer hours, many boys couldn't actually afford the fifteen shillings to get in, and consequently the Boys Village didn't actually open until 1930. 

Nevertheless, it was a huge success, and it went from strength to strength year after year. As well as being there for children, one interesting initiative was to select one old miner and his wife to have a free week-long holiday here, where they would be regarded as the mayor and mayoress of the village. Here's a photo of one such miner being appointed Mayor in front of an audience. 

(photo not mine, obviously)

One of the earliest camp managers, Ivor Llewelyn said "the camp is an attempt to assist young people to learn to live together and help each other and those less fortunate than themselves, and through sports and other organised activities, learn self discipline and fair play."

But he said he could also see real poverty from the boys that came here. Some had barely any clothes and no shoes. It was obvious that some were coming for the free meals more so than the activities. It must have been very rewarding to work in a place like this, knowing that such a place was adding some positivity to a bleak world, even for a little while. 

Here we have the swimming pool, which is almost invisible beneath the vegetation. In the 1930s, children would have been having a blast in this, and for many in impoverished families, it would have been their first time in a pool. 

The pool also shows up in the music video by Deaf Havana.
 

(screenshot from the Deaf Havana music video)

It was a lot less overgrown in 2011. In the video, this guy spends a lot of time wandering about looking melancholy while people bump into him as they run in the opposite direction, and then things blow up. Of all the music videos filmed here, Deaf Havana seemed to make the most of the surrounding landscape.

Other bands also used the swimming pool in their music videos, most notably Funeral for a Friend in their video for "Serpents in Solitude" in 2011. 

(Screenshot from Funeral for a Friends music video)

It's interesting, if only to see the pool before it became covered in grass.

Nearby we have the pool pump room. 

In the 1930s, things were looking a bit fishy over in Europe. But the people running the Boys Village used this opportunity to double down on their values. It was said in a newsletter "these boys may have to face changes in the years to come, and when peace is achieved it will be their ideals that will be needed to restore the world."

It seems pretty ambitious for one holiday camp, but it's a nice message all the same. 

The BBC broadcaster Huw Wheldon came to work here in 1933, and he sought to entertain the kids by adopting the identity of "Herr Von Klomp," Hitler's envoy who had been sent to study British organisations.

And I kinda love that. This was pre-war, so Hitler still had some way to go before he made a massive splash on the world stage and became one of the loathed men in history. In fact he had only just come to power, and people were already mocking him. 

The publics attitude to the Boys Club had actually been quite negative at first, with many thinking it would interfere with young peoples other commitments, such as school and church. The general response from those in charge was that this was a miners community affair and other people should butt out and fuck off. Nevertheless, I can't help but wonder if this is what led to the club having its own chapel built in 1937. 

Either way, public attitude to the club had softened greatly by the end of the 1930s. But then, the world did have bigger problems. 

Onto the chapel!

The chapel is the most prominent and recognisable building in the entire village, so I've been able to match it up to various scenes from Doctor Who. 

(screenshot from Doctor Who)

Ooooh it's the female Doctor. I seem to remember a lot of anger directed at this woman from angry people on the internet who weren't actually fans of Doctor Who, but didn't like the Doctor being played by a woman. Obviously I gave this episode a watch and I don't understand the hatred. The Doctors reproductive organs have nothing to do with the plot. 

I guess these people just have a preference for cock. I totally get that. Live and let live. 

This was the first episode of Doctor Who I've ever actually watched and it was great to watch a place that I have actually been to feature on such a prominent show. But the familiarity did remove me from the illusion somewhat. I wasn't watching this thinking "Ooooh how are the humans going to get out of this one?" I was watching it and thinking "Damn, this looks like it was fun to film. I bet they were having a blast."

Slipping inside the chapel... 

A lot of the floor tiles have been yoinked, and it's flooded quite nicely. 

Here's how it used to look back in its heyday:

(Photo not mine, obviously)

Here's the chapel interior in Doctor Who:

(screenshot from Doctor Who)

It's a bit gloomy but the human character is hiding on the left, and a Cyberman is strolling down the centre of the chapel. 

(screenshot of Save Your Breaths music video)

Here it is in a music video for the song "Nothing worth having comes easy," by "Save Your Breath." This was filmed in 2011, and it definitely looks fun to film. These guys basically had a food fight in the derelict chapel, and it's with the land owners permission. How cool is that?

(screenshot from Funeral for a Friend's music video)

The chapel also features in the Funeral for a Friend video, albeit briefly.

(screenshot from Brutality Will Prevail's music video)

And then there's this other video, The Path by "Brutality will Prevail," also filmed in 2011. I guess the landowner was just keen to make some money out of the place that year.

 This is my least favourite of the music videos filmed here, but hey-ho. It still deserves a mention. 

The military requisitioned the club in 1940, and it was used by soldiers. They gave it back a year later, but given the proximity of a nearby RAF camp, and the fact that bombs had actually fallen nearby, the camp remained closed and the military decided to carry on using it. It became a rest camp for those returning from Dunkirk, and was occupied until 1946. 

Despite a dramatic drop in funding and the deaths of various staff members, the Boys Village did bounce back after the war, with the viewpoint that it could still teach important values to young boys and shape a brighter future. After 1947 the South Wales Federation became The Welsh Association of Boys Clubs, indicating that they were growing. 

There's a war memorial in the centre of the village, dedicated to those of the coal mining community who lost their lives in the wars. 

It reads "Dedicated to the memory of the youth of all nations who fell so that war might end, by the boys of the South Wales Coalfield, who at this altar dedicate themselves to complete the task so nobly begun." 

(Photo not mine, obviously)

There are numerous photos of the memorial from back in the day. It was a focal point of many a gathering. So many other memorials in the world just become part of the furniture but this didn't happen here. People paid respects regularly.

(screenshot from Doctor Who)

In Doctor Who, they popped a black panel over the inscription, which kinda makes sense given the context of the story. 

(Photo not mine, obviously)

Here's a photo of one of the Boys Village staff members, Struan James-Robertson, sat in front of the memorial and surrounded by a group of boys. On this day he'd allegedly taken these kids to the seaside, where the owner of an amusement park donated a load of a free tickets for the rides. He tells of how the Irish kids had to fly back on Friday, and the Welsh kids went to the airport to see them off. He later learned that one of the Irish boys had lost a brother in the conflicts over there. He said that for one week they had lived together in perfect harmony, and wished that this could be said for the kids home life. 

The fact that he's talking about Irish kids staying here means that this photo was taken after 1962, because that was when the Boys Village was refurbished into a youth hostel for a wider range of young boys from all across the country, not just the ones from mining backgrounds in Wales. 

As a newly refurbished youth hostel, the Boys Village was actually opened by Queen Elizabeth, and her mother. As well as having the usual activities, it now offered workshops to teach kids work-related skills. 

Onto the dining hall...

The dining hall was barely standing during my visit, slowly demolishing itself. But it's possible to see it relatively intact in the music video by Deaf Havana:

(screenshot from Deaf Havana's music video)

The interior is pretty bleak. It's becoming a bit a walled garden for wild flowers. But from the 1930s right up to the 1980s, this was where hundreds of kids ate their meals while on holiday.

Check it out, we can still see the original floor tiles. 

Over here, the floor tiles are more black and white, but a fan of metal with a keen eye might notice these match the floor in the Funeral for a Friend video.

(Screenshot from Funeral for a Friend's music video)

This area was also used by Funeral for a Friend's video, albeit when it still had a roof. 

(Screenshot from Funeral for a Friend's music video)

Alas, in the latter half of the 20th Century air travel was becoming increasingly more popular, and a boys summer camp in Wales didn't have the same appeal as a week in Costa Brava. A combination of package holidays and the decline in the coal industry killed the Boy Village, albeit slowly. 

It's sad, but it's just the way of the world. The world changes and sometimes there are casualties. We see it in these old Victorian theatres and cinemas that have fantastic architecture but were killed by the multi-screens. It's just the way things are.

The Boys Village did chug on for a few more decades. It introduced holidays for disabled children too, and became involved in training unemployed young people in 1986. But it wasn't enough, and with funds dwindling, the Welsh Association of Boys Clubs ceased operating in 1990. 

Here we have the "Ivor Llewelyn" dorm. All of the accommodation blocks were named after various former staff, but this is the only one I've been able to identify and match to a specific name. Of course it helps that it's still standing. 

In the Doctor Who episode, the humans ran through this building to get to escape from the Cybermen as their village was destroyed. 

(screenshot from Doctor Who)

The dorm itself is two floors, and is very much a shell now. Once these rooms were fully furnished, with bunk beds and stuff.

Onto the best part of any abandoned building, the bathrooms.

Despite the building being an absolute shell, the bathrooms are recognisable by the wall tiles and smashed porcelain. 

Still in better condition than the toilets in some pubs and clubs. 

From the top of the dorm house, we get a view of the chapel and the other surviving buildings. 

Over there we have the caretakers bungalow and another dorm house. We'll swing by the caretakers bungalow first.

While I don't know exactly who lived here when it was first built, I do know that the Boys Village manager Jim Davies lived here with his wife Ann from 1985 to 1990. They said it was great to live here and hear the sound of people having fun outside, resonating all around the club. It was a happy place once. 

It's still got a homely vibe despite the decay. 

 

There's a little fireplace there. Presumably this was the living room. Once upon a time Ann and Jim sat in here and watched TV. 

 

This bungalow was apparently sold in 2000 and occupied by a family until 2008. I guess that makes it the longest-running building of the entire village. It must have been strange to live here in that time, with a big crumbling chapel, sports hall and old dining hall just sitting empty in the backyard. 

I'd actually love it. 

There's one final dorm block...

There's a human in this picture. I didn't realise he'd made it into the shot. He saw me and scarpered. I think he thought I was security. Poor chap. 

This one is single story and just more of the same. 

So of the boys that spent time here, a few have gone on to become successful. A few of them are professional boxers, like Joe Calzaghe, Scott Gammer and Jon Alsop.

I don't follow Boxing. I'm just regurgitating names from the internet. 

Watch me do it again!

A few of the boys who stayed here went on to become professional footballers, including John Hartson, Alan Curtis, Clayton Blackmore, Brian Flynn, and Mark Pembridge.

The Welsh Comedian Max Boyce and the radio presenter Owen Money also came here as children. 

I haven't heard of any of these people, but that's besides the point. I haven't heard of many things. The point is, these people came here as boys and grew up to be successful. That's pretty cool. 

Various church groups have apparently used the Boys Village following its closure in 1990 but the land was sold in 2000, and without any actual security, it soon fell victim to vandalism. Some buildings were destroyed by fires, and the swimming pool roof collapsed and was removed. There was an attempt to sell it again in 2010 but this failed. After renting the land to various musicians for shooting music videos, they attempted to sell it again in 2013 and this time succeeded. And that pretty much brings us up to now. 

Developers have got their claws in, and things are being torn down to make way for some new fancy houses. Allegedly the chapel will be retained, albeit converted into a house. The occupants will be able to say that their home was used in an episode of Doctor Who. That's quite a claim to fame, even if you aren't a fan. If they're metal heads they'll be able to brag about the music videos too.

These plans were naturally met with some resistance from the locality, but with little effect. The saving grace is that they managed to make the war memorial into a listed structure, therefore ensuring its preservation. In the years to come, the memorial, the chapel and the caretakers bungalow will be the only remnants that the Boys Village was ever here, as every other inch of the area is occupied by a characterless house.

So that's it from the Boys Village. It probably doesn't look this good anymore. The developers have settled in and things are moving forward. On one hand it's sad to see a cute urbex spot bite the brick, but on the other hand, it's unrealistic to expect this place to remain derelict and untouched forever, and I feel lucky to have seen it when I had the chance. I only wish I'd got in before the cafeteria roof had collapsed. And really, the sad thing isn't that we've lost a summer camp, but that we've lost the values and ethics of the two men that brought it into existence, two long deceased men who sought to improve the world, even if it was just one little corner of it. 

We need more like them. 

I'm only going up the road for the next blog. And then I'm doing something very fun!

In the meantime, follow me on social media. I'm trying to use them less and less, because I hate them. I especially dislike the mainstream ones that serve only to bait people into arguments, and don't actually show people who they follow.  I think it should be about finding creative people, embracing our passions and supporting each other, but somehow we lost sight of that. 

Nevertheless if you like to my blogs and want to see more, follow me on the main, shitty three, Facebook, Twitter, and I can also be found on things like Cara, Vero and Bluesky, which are a bit more positive and focus more on creativity, and I'd really like to see people jump ship and go there. But I've ranted enough about that in the past. 

Thanks for reading!