Pulling into the side of the road, I was skeptical. With a collapsed roof…and walls this former potters cottage was almost certainly a burnt-out shell of a building, more rubble than substance. …or so I was convinced.
Walking around the back and in through what remained of an enterance, I stepped over piles of rubbish and gazed upon more rubbish which in turn was concealing a further mountain of trash. So, not only a shell but also a rubbish tip…not exactly inspiring.
As my eyes adjusted to the contents of the place I began to realise what I thought was junk was, in fact, very specific junk. Sure, it was not too neatly arranged and had suffered from the elements, but this was the debris of someone’s business, someones life. Not junk but letters, newspapers, family photos, bills, leaflets advertising the cottage’s former life. Machinery, kilms, pottery…lots of pottery…everywhere. This was not only a worthwile explore with some goot photo ops, this was probably the densest collection of abandoned artifacts I had ever come across.
Yes, and even a piano – though it could probably benfit from a tuning.