The village of Aughton, 10 miles north of Liverpool is quite an affluent area, big old established houses, stand aloof in large grounds, often with security gates locked tight to keep the crims away (remember liverpool is only a short car ride away).
In such a well to do area it is unusual that such a gem as this exists.
But, I can't complain I can't grumble, for without these places what would I do?
Parking up quite away from then address and walking back so as to not disturb the well to do busy bodies hiding behind twitching curtains, nosing, with nothing better to do with their time. It stands on a small leafy lane, strange cars always draw attention. Fail to prepare you prepare to fail.
We shall soon discover why @slobberchops nicknamed the place "The vet's house" and over the course of this upload and the next why I spend ages in these places!
Once inside the grounds, which were vast, it was time to navigate the brambles without scrawping myself too much in the process.
There were so many options for access, no doors no windows to have to stumble and fall against, usually when places are this easy they tend to be nothing but a barren shit tip with bugger all to see.
PG tips a brand of tea on sale in the Uk using chimps as an advertising tool, ( yes real chimps acting as humans with voice overs by actors, very amusing at the time) from 1956 to about 1999 the packs include trading cards such as these.
Not too many bramble scrawps, so no first aid required. Looking into promine apparently it can cause undue swelling of the mammaries.... I think my beer tits are big enough I shall pass.
Throughout homes of the hoi polloi, too lazy to get off their arses to draw the curtains or pour a brandy rooms were equipped with buttons or pull cords activating a bell in the kitchen: those working in the kitchen would be expected to jump and attend to the needs of their master and mistress.
Grand old houses often had a "scullery", a quaint old fashioned word for a room off a kitched for storage and cleaning. today's yuppies would probably call this a galley kitchen. It isn't! It is a fucking scullery.
When you press the button and the hired servants don't rush ya either poop your pants or sit on the commode.
Fantastic design on that chair
Sit and gaze wistfully at the gardener tending to the estate, or rather gardeners, it must be at least half an acre of grounds surrounding the place.
Well no shit sherlock, but not today.
The upper windows letting in a little bit of light allowing me to see the wonderful wooden stair case in all its glory
AND NOW, the treasure hunt begins, because I spend too much time rooting, here is a taster, a tease for the main event, an amuse bouche if you will.
The bedrooms gave up some wonderful vintage items ( part 2 will have the documents in all their glory)
Back in the days when the Uk only had terrestrial TV, connection was made using a coaxial cable to the rear of the set, I believe it is still in use today too. Is it?
Children's literature from the 1950's and 70's and Linda Lusardi in the keyhole, BONUS!
I had one of these one xmas of Santa, worst thing he ever made me, the bits were so fidddly and you had to read the words backwards as you tried and tried to set the miniscule rubber letters on a rack, then roll ink over them before pressing onto a piece of note paper.... what did you usually end up with ? One fucking big blob of something, but not letters that is for sure. Thanks Santa for nothing, next year stick to socks and a scarf!
Thanks for visiting my page, I am pleased to make your acquaintance. this is Stephen aka, @grindle, happily retired, travelling the world snapping away. My weapon of choice is currently a Nikon Z6(2).
Unless stated all images are shot by me, all text is mine based on various info sources. NOT AI generated.
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