In the story would be a giant of a man with immense strength, who ran away to sea when he was a lad of thirteen in 1890. We would also include two brave men, both whom had been front line fighting soldiers throughout the Second World War, both came through the war physically unscathed. There would be others in the story, but here perhaps a veil should be drawn.
The story would include tales of cruelty, love & betrayal, drunkenness and insanity. It is perhaps best if the full story is never told.
Anyway, now to the house-
It was built c1740 and was made of limestone, rubble and ashlar, estate workers and their families lived in both the lodges. The last person lived there until three weeks before dying early in 1967.
The house had no gas or electric, the water had to be wound from a well that measured 123 feet before reaching water. A large open fire range was used for cooking and heating, fuelled by logs taken from fallen trees. Ash was best to get the fire going as it would burn even if it was green, then perhaps a couple of oak logs would be added, or some yew if available as it would burn like coal and last ages.
Candles were the only source of light, they had to be kept out of drafts to stop them swealing and burning away too fast! With town a long, long walk away, it was best not to waste anything. On a dark night it could be a long and lonely walk, a lot of the journey through pitch black woods.
The following four photographs were taken 1966 or 1967 with a Brownie 127. Unfortunately they were seriously blemished before I scanned them into the computer.
By this time the old house was in a serious state of decay.
The track leading to town
In it's heyday (found on the internet)
I mentioned earlier that the story ended in 1967, this is not absolutely true. Repercussions from events that took place at the old house all those years ago still have their effect today.