Firstly, if you've never been to Bletchley, to say it's a bit bleak might be an understatement. If you venture out from the station, in search of - say - people breathing, you might be disappointed. There's some underpasses, and, erm. Well, that's it.
One night me any payno were there, we asked a local if there were any decent pubs. He laughed. But then - and I expected him to give us the local nod. You know... "but no seriously, if you go down there...".
Nope. He stopped. His eyes rolled upwards, thinking. Then, after about 30 seconds. He said... "no. no there aren't any. good luck. ". That's Bletchley.
But of course, there's Bletchley Park... home of all sorts of military cleverness from times past. Our first visit wasn't entirely unsuccessful, but it wasn't a proper explore. We'd found a "way" into the park and had a nice wander around. There's a Harrier in there, assorted old military buildings, and even better, a model railway (I'm still, slowly, tapping into payno's clearly secretive railway fetish
)
Roll on a few months. We're at a loose end. Payno suggests we go back. "There's another bit, something we didn't discover last time". A few quid in a cab, and we're trecking along a very poorly secured perimeter. Inski! It takes a bit more prodding around, but before us we've got a whole load of grim looking WW2 era buildings. Prefabs, almost. Boarded to buggery and due for demo.
When you see something like this, you just think.... bet there's nothing in there. And, by and large there wasn't. I was photographing anything. Stairs (hmm, ok). Peeling paint (oh no). Dust. My fingernails. Air.
Payno can do this on, what for me, is the most dull explore ever. And, after her processing, it'll come up smelling of roses. Ones that would win the chelsea flower show. I'm reasonably sure, if I shat a big pile, her shots would make the turds look polished. There's times I want to throw my expensive camera away and give up - but I've got a better option. Smash her camera up and run away. It would work. For a bit, perhaps.
So I console myself in a very simple way. Drink cans of stella. Usually works. And when you get really lazy, find some steps and have a nice sit down. And I did. Got me smokes. Got me beers. And all there is behind me, on the steps, is.... files... all marked for destruction a few decades ago. Might aswell have a look through... shiiiit... shiiiiiiit... this shouldn't be here. Fucking jeez...
...more to follow
One night me any payno were there, we asked a local if there were any decent pubs. He laughed. But then - and I expected him to give us the local nod. You know... "but no seriously, if you go down there...".
Nope. He stopped. His eyes rolled upwards, thinking. Then, after about 30 seconds. He said... "no. no there aren't any. good luck. ". That's Bletchley.
But of course, there's Bletchley Park... home of all sorts of military cleverness from times past. Our first visit wasn't entirely unsuccessful, but it wasn't a proper explore. We'd found a "way" into the park and had a nice wander around. There's a Harrier in there, assorted old military buildings, and even better, a model railway (I'm still, slowly, tapping into payno's clearly secretive railway fetish

Roll on a few months. We're at a loose end. Payno suggests we go back. "There's another bit, something we didn't discover last time". A few quid in a cab, and we're trecking along a very poorly secured perimeter. Inski! It takes a bit more prodding around, but before us we've got a whole load of grim looking WW2 era buildings. Prefabs, almost. Boarded to buggery and due for demo.
When you see something like this, you just think.... bet there's nothing in there. And, by and large there wasn't. I was photographing anything. Stairs (hmm, ok). Peeling paint (oh no). Dust. My fingernails. Air.
Payno can do this on, what for me, is the most dull explore ever. And, after her processing, it'll come up smelling of roses. Ones that would win the chelsea flower show. I'm reasonably sure, if I shat a big pile, her shots would make the turds look polished. There's times I want to throw my expensive camera away and give up - but I've got a better option. Smash her camera up and run away. It would work. For a bit, perhaps.
So I console myself in a very simple way. Drink cans of stella. Usually works. And when you get really lazy, find some steps and have a nice sit down. And I did. Got me smokes. Got me beers. And all there is behind me, on the steps, is.... files... all marked for destruction a few decades ago. Might aswell have a look through... shiiiit... shiiiiiiit... this shouldn't be here. Fucking jeez...
...more to follow

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