The Woodbine

(Disclaimer: Joking aside, 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 means of entry.  I leave the building as I find it and only enter to take photographs for my own pleasure and to document the building.

I've been to a few derelict pubs lately- one which I'd had my eye on for years, and the other that I stumbled across completely by accident. This one is different, in that I have some acquaintances who used to run it. Upon hearing news of its pending renovation, they recommended that I check it out before it was gone forever. However, they also seemed to have their doubts that I'd make it out alive.

Not particularly keen on dying, I consulted my handlers, who like my pretty songs and like to sing along, and they politely reassured me that I can't actually die. I don't believe them, but I seem to require minimum persuasion to do silly things, so here we are.

The pub was built in 1939, although upon researching its early days I found out that the land was actually targeted for the construction of a chapel before the brewery managed to get their hands on it. Perhaps had they not, then we'd have a smashed up chapel on this street instead. Who knows?

For me, it's mildly comical because it continues a noticable trend of pubs winning over churches. In a past blog post, I looked at how the power of booze over God had caused an entire village to move two miles down the road, away from a church. And then of course we saw the Limelight, a chapel that was actually converted into a nightclub.

In the Woodbines case the alcohol won before the church was even built. Suck on that, Jesus.

As a minor claim to fame, the pub also shows up in the background of the 1957 movie "The man in the sky." It's very fleeting, and probably only really noticable to the locals, but the pub does have people sat outside it, which was a nice blink-and-you-miss-it glimpse at its past as a popular drinking hole.

The external sign boasts that the pub has a great atmosphere, which makes it pretty ironic that the former occupants warned me to watch out for dodgy people, used needles and to wear a stab-proof vest.
Also interesting is that the part of the sign that says "Good food" has also been defaced. I guess at some point someone decided that rats aren't nutritious.

At some point in the early 21st Century, the pub changed its name to the Red Rooster, which was a pointless move in my opinion. I have no doubt whatsoever that those who frequented it still called it the Woodbine. This is evidenced by the fact that they changed it back.

It was following the change back to the Woodbine that my informants got their hands on it, keeping it in their family allegedly until roughly 2009 or 2010 before it changed hands once again, finally closing in 2013.

From what I gather, it was always a bit of a magnet for antisocial behaviour. They caught the occasional drudgeon doing drugs in the loo, they had their fair share of break ins, and in 2013 a jaguar exploded right outside it. That's the car, not the cat. Somehow I think a wild exotic animal exploding in front of a British pub would have made a few more headlines.

In more recent years, various plans have fallen through, but there's one activity here that remains consistent, and that's fly tipping. This just seems to be the place to go if you want to dump some stuff. So if you want a new sofa, but can't afford one, and don't mind if it smells of cheese, this is the place to go!

Look at this beauty! If you get hungry while watching a film but you cant be bothered to get a snack, just eat the mushrooms growing on this! Sure, it's probably had a murdered prostitute or two decompose on it, but just think of the money you'll save!

Allegedly, in spite of repeated compaints from the locals, the council have struggled to do much, because the fly tipping is on private property, so the clean-up has to be carried out by the owners. All the council can really do is badger them.

From what I can tell, the owners don't seem to care. They have tried a variety of projects, including opening a car wash in 2016, which was met with complaints from the locals. They then announced a plan to convert the lower floors into shop units, but the only retail transaction to take place on the premises is the occasional drug deal. Finally the owners promised to both remove the flytipping and keep people out. To that end, they went for the simplest option, and built a fence. That'll show people!

Except it didn't.
Nobody liked the fence, and eventually it had to be taken down because it went against council planning regulations, due to being over six feet tall.

To me that's a pretty silly rule. The council want to keep people out of the Woodbine, but they don't want a barrier over six feet tall?
I think the local council must be made up of dwarfs or something, because everyone knows that a barrier less than six feet tall can be scaled by just about anyone, except maybe disabled people, newborns, and of course, dwarfs.

But even the illegally tall fence wasn't much of a deterent. From what I can see on streetview it looks about as stable as the German economy in the 1930s. Quite simply, there were many ways to get around it, and one of the options was to simply wait for a light breeze to push it down. By the time the owners did take it down, most of it had been stolen anyway, revealing that the flytipping behind it hadn't been removed after all! The fence had just been put up to hide it!

Sneaky!

Efforts to stop the antisocial behaviour has been minimum. A camera was installed but the footage was only retained for two days. And the council did offer rewards for anyone who reported a fly tipper. But really what it all results in is a massive lack of faith in the local authority by the folks who live around here.

Just to show how little the faith the locals have in the powers-that-be, here some local vandals have used the threat of demolition to mock the local druggies. When anti-social behaviour is being mocked by other anti-social behaviour, you know that the public are pissed off. Nothing says "The police aren't doing enough" quite like reeeeally unenthusiastic vigilantism. Except this isn't really vigilantism, is it? It's just scrawling on a wall, tucked around the corner where the cops can't see. But it's a start.

As you can tell by the door wrapped in barbed wire, steps have been taken to keep people out. But this is really a minimum effort job. Let's slip inside!

Wow! Check it out!  The bar is still here and everything!There's an English flag hanging on the wall, and a pool table still in one piece, albeit dirty. But otherwise this pub is in surprisingly good condition.

There's a sign next to the door that says "Please mind stepping off stage," which implies that the was some sort of small performance area, although it looks mighty cramped for that sort of thing. That could just be the clutter though.

What strikes me as odd is that it looks like nothing has been done to the place since it closed in 2013. For all the talk about putting it to a new, different use, this is quite unmistakably still a bar. No work has ever been done on it. The plans have been all talk.

There's still pool balls, after all these years. That's pretty cool.

There's still loads of glasses behind the bar.

Onto the lounge bar, where work boots are prohibited.

I guess the pub had problems with people bringing in their own alcohol.

The former occupants tell me that the pub was most certainly haunted, and that numerous family members and customers saw ghosts. An elderly lady in white was seen quite often, as was a man in a suit and a bowler hat. My informant also told me that she was once behind the bar shortly after closing when someone quite unmistakably walked past the bar in spite of her being alone in the building.

And as for the families dog, Bud, he had to sleep upstairs because if they left him downstairs he'd freak out during the night and defecate everywhere.

For the record, I personally didn't experience anything spooky while I was in here. 

However, the Woodbine is the site of at least two suicides, one who hung himself in 2012 and an earlier incident where a man threw himself onto the nearby railway tracks. 
It's pretty tragic, but I think depression and mental health issues and their tragic outcomes should not be swept under the rug, given that it's becoming something of an epidemic.
If you do need to talk to someone, do it. It doesn't matter if they don't want to listen- just talk at them. Getting it out of your head and into words is much more important than if they can't concentrate on the latest episode of Coronation Street.

And I get that people fear ridicule, but in my experience bullies mostly like to shit on happy people, or at least people who have a chance at achieving happiness if they can manage a day without getting shat on.
This is why, for all my cheeky jokes and bad humour, I save the politically incorrect words like, for example, "retard" for bullies and the like. Because nothing is more retarded and unnatural than someone shitting on someone elses happiness. Think about it- a key component to nature is survival of the species. When early humans realised that cooking a chicken made it safe to eat, did the other humans laugh? No, they learned from it. That way the species survived. Nowadays we have depressed people everywhere and people keep killing themselves because existence seems pointless and futile. It's such a minefield of misery out there that as soon as we see someone who has achieved happiness at nobodies expense, our survival instincts should be saying "learn from them." Anyone who shits on someone for being happy is a retard. Like a fish trying to breathe oxygen.

But I digress. Let's get back to the Woodbine.

There's an old TV frame on the wall, but the TV is long gone.

Moving onto the best part of any derelict building...

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

And here we have the kitchen, where the advertised "Good food" was served up.

So in regards to projects put forward, the public seem quick to say "Something needs to be done about this communual eyestore," but as soon as something is proposed, like a carwash, retail units, and most recently an apartment block, the public then criticise any idea put forward, keeping the Woodbine in some form of production limbo. In regards to putting the area to commercial use, one guy told the papers "I care who will be working there because I will have to look at it every day."

You do realise ugly people need to earn a living too, right?

Just imagine going for a job interview, meeting the manager and then having them say "Oh, also joining us in the interview is this guy from across the road. He doesn't work here, but we're only allowed to give you a job if he finds you attractive."

Imagine that rejection.
"But I'm the most gifted neuroscientist in the country. I've won awards and saved lives."
"I know, but you have a potbelly, and one of your nostrils is a tenth of a millimeter wider than the other. Sorry. Nothing personal."

Of course, this was a news article that I read this quote in, so it's likely to be misquoted, taken out of context, or made up entirely. It is, after all, the mainstream media, and it's easier to find a nun wearing a strap-on than it is to find anything factual. 

Moving on upstairs...

Allegedly, when my informant had the pub, this is where the dog lived, at the top of the stairs. It seemed that following the break-in, they prioritised keeping the family safe over keeping the bar safe, which makes sense.

Up here things are bleaker and more indicative of past attempted renovations. And indeed, during the fenced-up period of the Woodbines post-closure limbo, people did see lights on up here, seemingly as they were preparing the upstairs for residential accomodation above the shop units, but that project was dropped.

There are signs that someones been squatting up here, but they're long gone. Personally, with the reputation of antisocial behaviour here, I'd be kinda terrified to sleep here, even if I was homeless and desperate.

This room was once the family lounge.

Every room has been fitted with an ensuite shower.

And right at the end of the hallway is the family bedroom, where the guys who ran the place lived. It doesn't look very accomodating anymore, what with the broken glass, clutter and mold.

The final stop is, of course, the cellar. And as far as cellars go, it's unusually cavernous.

In the last pub cellar I set foot in, I found some medieval torture equipment. Or at least, a modern replica of some. Somehow I doubted the Woodbine would have anything quite that eyebrow-raising, but at the bottom of the stairs blocking my path was an old games table, so it's looking promising.

My hopes of finding anything spectacular were dashed when I realised that it was just another generic pub cellar. Still, it's wonderfully maze-like and incredibly creepy, and I wouldn't have been able to leave without checking it out.

Here on the floor of the cellar are the signs advertising the carwash that never was.

That's all I got. The future of the Woodbine looks bleak. With smashed windows, the interior is largely exposed to the elements, and the cost of making it liveable is likely to be astronomical and growing daily as the place decays.
The more recent plans for the place involved converting the pub into twelve flats, and building an apartment block of eighteen more right next to it. That sounds awfully cramped given the size of the area. One can only imagine them building something like that Japanese capsule hotel, where each "room" is basically the length and width of a single bed.

The plans don't seem to be going anywhere, and the pub remains in limbo. The locals continue to complain about the eyesore, the fly tipping and the drugs, which is fair enough. Most people seem to think that the council and police could do more. The council continue to badger the owners, and the owners continue to not care.

So what can be done?
Well, as we learned when I blogged about the Seafront Hotel, under Section 215 of the Town and Country Planning Act 1990, if a building is having a harmful effect on the area, the local authority can demand that action be taken, issue a notice period, and then under 219 of the same act, if nothing is done by the date issued on the notice period, the local authority can enter the property to make the desired changes, and then charge the owners for the cost.

So the powers-that-be could actually demolish this pub themselves, and charge the owners for the expenses. Of course there's probably some procedure to follow beforehand, but it is an option. But that's a whole rabbit hole of legalese. Given that I'm not on the council, and don't wish to be, I can't really comment on what they're doing to clean up this area.

That's it for my blog on the Woodbine though.
Share this blog wherever. Obviously with social media being more and more irritating, not actually showing people the output of those they follow, sharing helps the blog immensely. Next time I'm heading to a derelict college, and then after that I'm checking out a closed pub/restaurant which isn't derelict so much as an opportunity to capture something before the powers that be remodel it. In the meantime, follow my Instagram, Like my Facebook and Follow my Twitter. And of course, be nice to each other.

Thanks for reading!

The Brewer & Baker

(Disclaimer: Joking aside, 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 means of entry.  I leave the building as I find it and only enter to take photographs for my own pleasure and to document the building.

I found this place on my way to a much more badass adventure. It's another abandoned pub, albeit in a much more dilapidated state than the last pub I blogged about. The truth is, derelict pubs are sprinkled across the UK, and one doesn't get about as much as I do without occasionally stumbling across them. Most closed pubs across Britain are simply leftovers from a dying culture, one which owes the nails in its coffin to various factors like cheap supermarket alcohol, drink/driving laws and most notoriously, the smoking ban.

This one had a somewhat more unique tale to its demise, but it took me a while to even find out the name of it.

The Brewer & Baker was built in 1830, on a terraced road, meaning it was connected to other buildings on either side, right up the street. You wouldn't know it to look at it though. It now stands alone, gradually falling to pieces. The buildings around it are long gone, but I was able to come across an older image, which showed it as it was, back when it was part of an actual street.

(Photo not mine, obviously)

Differences between the earlier photo and what now stands (barely) today are most notably the windows, but apparently this is due to a massive renovation that took place in the 1980s.

So let's slip inside and see whats left. 

 There's actually not a lot left at all. While unmistakably a pub on the outside, one can only imagine where the seating areas and the bar might once have been on the interior. These features are long gone, leaving only a shell.

 I learned from my research that in the day, the pub did fantastically. It had a great lunch trade, and when there was a game on, it was said to be popular with "Blue Noses," a term I was unfamiliar with. I'm not local to this area, nor am I a football fan. But it turns out "Blue Nose" is a slang term for a fan of Birmingham City Football Club, as was explained by two comical, same-but-different definitions on the internet, one of which says "Unemployable, foul mouthed and with a deep resentment to Aston Villa" while the other says "Birmingham City Fan, of superior intelligence to a Villa fan."

Apparently there's a fierce rivalry between the two football clubs, dating back to 1879.

But football is really of no interest to me. I personally find it boring. And I don't say that to degrade any football fans. If you enjoy football, then thats cool. I don't watch make-up tutorials on Youtube either, but that doesn't make them bad. Different things for different people. Live and let live, I say.

The story of the pubs closure is a sad one. At the end of the street, there was a second road heading left. When a roundabout was constructed, this second road was subsequently altered so that it cut into the middle of the pubs road, on the other side of the pub itself, effectively cutting it off from the street that it was on, marooning it on a little island next to a busy roundabout.

Quite simply it became a pain in the arse to get to. Pedestrians had to cross a busy roundabout, and motorists struggled to get from said roundabout to the carpark.
During the final nights of 1990, the pub was pretty unlively, with barely anyone in it. It closed its doors for good shortly after.

And then, as often sadly happens, in 2016 it was gutted by a fire.

Now this is interesting. It would seem that this is someones unofficial home. This realisation is of little surprise given that we're in a city, but I have to be honest, the question of what I would do if I actually met squatters has always been on my mind. I'm as respectful as possible when I visit derelict places, only seeking to document whatevers left. I guess if I disturbed a squatter then I would have to respectfully leave. However, such an ethical pickle only really applies when respecting their personal space. It should go without saying that I'd never explore a house that someone was legally living in, but unlike a residential premises, the squatters technically aren't supposed to be here, so when they aren't here, a derelict building is fair game.

I was actually going to call this blog post "The Squatters Pub" but I found that a bit misleading, and maybe even a little clickbaity. The internets great, but clickbait titles really tend to irritate me. I think, as an internet content creator, if one needs to lie about their content to get people to look at it, then their content is probably shit.

 There's some amusing graffiti here. In particular, someone has written "Who the fuck are Man United?" But they have written the word "fuck" with various punctuation and typography in similarity with the sort of censorship one sees in comics.
Which is amusing purely because it's a derelict building. Why censor anything?

 "We believe that it is our loyal fans who have given XLNC the top status it holds. In turn Dave (singer) will give you a blow job, cos he's queer."

Good for you, Dave.

I looked up XLNC after this. It's some Asian band that I've never heard of. It's not my cup of tea, but if given a choice between that and something like, say, One Direction, it wins. But then so does catching syphilis.

There's one last patch of remaining wallpaper here. Somehow it's survived.

Moving on to the best part of any derelict building...

 This area was, at some point, the toilets. Over on the wall, onecan still see where the urinals once were, and there's still an advert above one of them.

Those of you who don't pee standing up probably don't know this, but adverts are frequently placed at eye level above urinals, along with stuff like this about DVD piracy. From a marketing standpoint it's pretty genius. Men are going to be stood here, facing the wall, so companies give them something to look at.
I'd personally think they should use those fairground mirrors that distort reflections. That would be wonderful to look at while drunk.

There's one last toilet left, surviving amongst this rubble-strewn wasteland.

It's still in better condition than the toilets in some active pubs and clubs.

There's also this garage area, but it's pretty featureless.

 

 In the bar area is this narrow stairway leading upwards into what was once the residential part of the building.

The upstairs is incredibly fire damaged, and with the roof open it was completely exposed to the elements. It's probably only a matter of time before the upper floor comes crashing down. Hopefully the squatter won't be here when it does!

Because the top floor isn't level, there's a stairway leading down to the rest of it.

Judging by the tiles around the remains of a work surface, this was presumably a kitchen at some point.

A little instruction notice about the boiler is still here, although the top screws have come out, causing the sign to dangle upside-down by the bottom one.

There is, of course, one final stop, and that's the cellar.

 

Someones living down here too, rather bizarrely. It seems a little less hospitable to the upper floor. But this is by far not the weirdest thing down here...

No, the weirdest thing in this pubs cellar is probably the weirdest thing I've ever found in any cellar. It's a pillory! Given the metal frame, it's clearly not a genuine vintage one, but that makes its presence here even weirder. Why is this under a pub?

For those who don't know, they were used as far back as the 1270s and were basically restraining devices used to publically display and humiliate hoodlums. The two smaller holes were for the captives wrists, and the central one was for the neck. The criminal would be restrained in such a device in the middle of town, and laughed at by the general public. It sounds very medieval, but it was still being used as punishment as late as the 1830s. And personally, I think they should bring it back.

I mean, jail is good and all, but I think that should be reserved for those who are too dangerous to be allowed among society, like rapists and murderers. But petty crime, such as shoplifting or pathetic things like online harassment, could be fixed with a little public humiliation. We used to be able to get entertainment from societies drudgeons through things like the Jeremy Kyle show, and that void can now be filled with some good old fashioned medieval public humiliation. Ultimately it doesn't really hurt anyone, and having a town point and laugh at someone for being an idiot might promote a little self reflection.

 But that's probably an unpopular opinion.

As for the future of the pub, I very much doubt it has one. It appeared in a 2018 calendar of the cities perished pubs, so it has some recent claim to fame. Anyone who had the calendar got to look at the Brewer and Baker throughout the entirety of March.
But personally I think the pub is beyond help. It's trashed, it's been set on fire, and even if the funds were there to fix it up, the road system has made it financially unviable. How it is now, sadly, is still better than it will ever be again.

Thats all I got. Share the blog around like herpes. Next time I'm checking out another derelict pub and then I'm heading to a big derelict college. In the meantime, Like my Facebook page, Follow my Instagram and Follow my Twitter, and be good to each other.
Thanks for reading!