Tales of the Urban Explorer: The Derelict Butchers
'You've got to be fucking joking man.., you're really wanting to go into an old decaying stinking butchers?’, I said with more than a tinge of incredulity.
When @anidiotexplores mentioned a 'Derelict Butchers’ I was less than excited and some thoughts entered my imagination on what would be expected.
Rotting shoulders of lamb dripping in mold, maggot encrusted sausages that would put any scene in a horror movie to shame, or perhaps some putrid lumps of tripe being gorged on by those bluebottles that eventually emerge from maggot larvae?
‘Mate… this is a hot location and fresh news’, he exclaimed, with slightly less exuberance than a few minutes previously.
I could not help but laugh. The venues we visit would be enough to nauseate a regular human, but we are hardened to seeing, walking-in and breathing in all kinds of terrible substances and sights.
As I was speculating another attempt at a certain abandoned theatre that has so far eluded me, and that it was almost next door to this… ‘butchers’, I thought, well OK, maybe I can survive this particular encounter if I can hold my breath long enough.
We walked around looking for a way in without success that is until we found the front door. Why bother with the back when this picture is staring at you?
No doubt it's been sealed again by now and by the time the Facebook crew read this, I can almost guarantee this to be the case.
Not that they will be missing much, it’s a butcher’s shop, not a mental asylum with quality ancient torture devices left inside.
Oh, what the fuck, I shimmied under and entered paradise.
It was to my surprise that I was not hit by a wall of putrid gasses, though it was less nostril flavoursome than an open active business would have been.
I have never seen anything less than THREE out of FIVE on these Food Hygiene Ratings signs. If you get a terrible rating, you shove the sign inside a cupboard and pretend it doesn't exist or expect few customers.
Is this certificate enough to mitigate the official rating? I was trying not to laugh.
To get behind the counter you need to be extra skinny, and I am no longer that. I barely managed it by holding my breath, scraping my skin, and swearing profusely.
That Frank must have been a scrawny bugger and can you imagine an advertisement for hired help?
'Wanted Apprentice Butcher' - Must not be Overweight. Would that work in today's world?
Being a fatty often is a major disadvantage when it comes to the Urbex world. Vaulting over this counter would likely break the glass, make a shitload of noise and place you in hospital.
Franks Butchers was a little dusty inside, but that was to be expected.
Knowing which part of the city this is located in, prices like these are to be expected. I would not expect quality legs to be part of this bargain.
In the spirit of things, calendars should always be held up by butchers’ hooks.
I can now understand that poor hygiene rating. The back area was hardly sparkling and clean.
Dare I enter this room? I moved the plastic sheeting aside, inhaled not too deeply, and thought better of it.
I wonder how long this has been closed. The calendar was from 2016, so is it five years?
What is that substance? I did not touch it. One learns that some brown powders should remain in their natural habitat.
Within 10 minutes we were outside and gaining suspicious glares from a bloke parked in a nearby van.
This whole row of once shops is now closed, boarded up, and sealed. Taking photographs defuses potential bad situations. Mr. Nosey Bastard started reading his paper again when he noticed us shooting.
Thieves and robbers who want to steal old meat carcasses don’t take photographs. We walked away from the butchers smelling slightly meatier than when we had arrived.
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