A house
Growing up in Stafford was pretty dull. A lot of aimless poking about was done by yours truly, sometimes in company with my brother and cousin.
One afternoon we found ourselves in Rowley Park and that's when we noticed the fenced off bit of wilderness beside one of the entrances.
"What's in there?" we asked one another and scrambled over the wire.
Hidden by trees and bushes we found a house. Alright, a bungalow. The door was guarded by about a million nettles and the woodshed fell in when we prodded it. Nobody home, obviously.
Entry was, ahem, gained and we began exploring.
Truth be told there wasn't much there - a mouldering couch and scraps of rug but we were convinced we'd found somewhere everyone else had forgotten about years, nay decades, ago.
On and off over the next seven years or so we would wander back and each time we'd find more vandalism and more empty cans.
Then one night some numbnuts burnt it to the ground. *
If any of you lot are from Stafford then I'd love to know if the ruins are still there.


* Not us I hasten to add.
(Big D, Fri 7 Nov 2008, 20:25, 2 replies)

Mr Bin
is from Stafford.

But he says that he doesn't know Rowley Park. It may have been due to spending most of his younger years in Props.
( Mrs Entity is in hiding., Sat 8 Nov 2008, 19:51, closed)

props I remember
The Chains and Pitchers Tavern I remember slightly better.
(Big D, Sun 9 Nov 2008, 19:27, closed)