Tuesday, 27 January 2015

L' ordinaire...

It has to be said, I am a very vernacular old Hector.  I have far more interest in the lowly, the small time and the cranky than the grand.  Partly because I can't make models of the grand.  No time, no space, but also because I look at something that's ONLY intended to impress and I tend think "so what". Sticking another wing on the old palace is no more impressive to me than an Essex builder lashing a bigger outboard to his ski boat.  It's only when the palace becomes a rural shithouse or the ski boat becomes a Dispro or a harbour launch that I get interested.

Ever since I have lived in these parts (about 26 years) there has been a place on a tiny back lane near Pingle Bridge that housed, 'twixt sharp bends, a property whose business has never been remotely obvious, which has never shown the slightest hint of occupation, yet which has some remarkably fancy iron gates.
Look at those uneven bricks, Iain.  Fancy that?

I would imagine it was once a car repair shop.  I'm thinking repairs on the left, spraying, maybe and office on the right.  But then, there's not space enough to raise a finger lift in either.  Bodywork only, maybe?  The only difference in what you see from what was here all those years ago is that the van and Cavalier in the yard couldn't have been there then and that a Rover 75 used to be behind the gate.  They have come and gone, respectively in the ensuing time, still with no sign of humanity.

BSC??  Well made, but home made, gate signs.  Could it be an outpost of the all pervading British Sugar Corporation?  A major employer in these flat, beet filled fields.  A bit small for a bulk carrier to be fixed.
Barrington Septimus Corrigan?  Nah, never 'eard of 'im.  Those are proud, if unaeshetic, gates.  Three of them.  This place meant something to somebody.  Those tall outside lights speak of a need to sometimes work outside, or at least have security on something that was maybe left outside.

I really must enquire of some locals.  Except the nearest neighbours are a quarter of a mile away.
I'd love it!  So would my son.  Old cars!
I will report if and when I find any info.  I know you're all busting for an explanation.

Travelling a little further round I couldn't resist this, the least grand building you're likely to find, but a real feature of the fields round here.  Probably because there is so far to walk to civilisation for the field workers to spend a penny and so little tree or bush cover for the more demure to squat behind.
The field-corner privvy
Nearly every larger field has one round here.  Clicking on this for a larger image will show a very odd effect.  Entirely due to the angle of the shot and the fact that the "bog" is made of thin tin or aluminium, it appears to have been drawn round and plonked on the picture of a field.  Not so, I assure you.  I wonder if these were bucket and chuckit loos or were they proper earth closets.  No means of digging it out behind.
I love how we cover such delightful bucolica on this site.  
Do come back!


  1. I, too, relish the derelict and decaying parts of the landscape and I would certainly love to model something like this. The gates certainly suggest that somebody was proud of this place once...a fascinating mystery!

  2. I thought you might like it, Iain. There's plenty more to come!

  3. Those gates would be an interesting exercise in weathering.

  4. Pretty interesting exercise in making 'em first!