When I was growing up, abandoned places were everywhere to be explored. The mid eighties, and my home villiage suffered the closure of its pit, and despite the warnings, we couldn’t stay away.
There was a huge marshalling yard where the trucks would have been stored, and for a long while, a little yellow shunting locomotive remained in the yard for us to play on. There were also four huge flood light towers that we dared each other to climb, but never got above a few foot. We did get to the top eventually though, after they’d been felled. The pit site was a massive complex of buildings and equipment and we stayed away from the head gear, and the shafts has been capped, but the admin buildings and shower block was accessible, thanks to the local vandals.
At the opposite end of the villiage was the old abattoir, though that had been filled in and overgrown long before I got to explore it’s macabre remains. There was an unnatural mound of grassy earth, surrounded by trees. But when you climbed to the top, you could look in to the roofless interior. Inside the various rooms were evidence of squatting, charred stones marked where fires had been lit, and the place was littered with rusty tin cans and weather worn beer bottles.
The old farm, right in the middle of the new housing estates had crumbling barns and stables, and a huge weed ridden orchard where a single scraggly old horse munched at the grasses.
The swimming baths too were accessible for a little while before they tore it down. Drained swimming pools are a weird thing to look at, filled with detritus and the occasional plastic chair. And it’s bizarre, that even when you’re trespassing in a deserted condemned building, breaking the law, risking physical harm and a massive bollocking, exploring the female changing room still felt comparatively naughty.
The abandoned railways through and around the villiage still had a lot of railway remnants at the time too. Ballast here and there, and the odd rails. Felled signal masts rotting in the under growth. Often the route would come to an end at an abrupt brick cliff, where the deck of the bridge had been removed. Over bridges were filled in, and we used to run across the parapet, pretending it was still a bridge, and jump down on to ‘tracks’ below.
Huge fun. Wish I’d had a camera when i nine.