A quite remarkable house right in the middle of a busy residential street, Bucket House stands out amidst the tidy suburban homes due to its obvious advanced decay. Ivy has begun to weave itself around the house and the windows are either boarded up or clogged up with old newspaper.Standing at the bus stop opposite, Bucket House stares down at the world below like a giant decaying beast refusing to hide; shrink back into the ground.

Access wasn't gained into this house however I have included it as some images were taken through windows.

Named Bucket House on account of the extreme decay inside the house - where 2 sisters lived - where buckets were placed to catch the dripping water as each sister retreated into the only dry rooms still remaining, although they were too quite decayed and looked damp. The room photographed from the back of the house was the final chaotic and rotting resting place of one of the sisters, a squalid micro world of sadness.

​

Whilst there photographing the exterior, a local lady filled me in on the story of Bucket House. Two sister lived inside the house. After a falling out, they refused to speak to each other with each sister living in their allocated half of the house, avoiding each other at all costs. After one of the sisters passed away, the remaining sister retreated to what was the only room that wasn't constantly dripping with water through the decaying rooms above. A sad little room full of her possessions scattered around the makeshift bed in the corner adorned with blackened pillows and blankets. Chairs cobbled together to form her bed. A former nurse, caring for others living out her final days being ignored and forgotten by the world around her as she retreated into despair.

June 2014: My return some months later.

A revisit was done in June 2014 and the interior photographed. A very sad house, full of black plastic buckets to catch the rain as it fell through the broken roof, the occupants were living here as the house slowly succumbed to decay. Much was still left inside the house, magnificent red tiled victorian fireplaces, nurses items scattered around and an old piano hovering on a downstairs floor as the floorboards buckled with decay. I avoided the upstairs bedrooms as the floors were perilous and one wrong step could have brought the floors crashing down. So I focused on the staircase mid section, sturdy looking wood, a good place to set up the tripod to photograph the upstairs landing and hint of a bedroom. However, the staircase was deceptively weak and as I took one shot the whole mid section crumbled under my feet as I crashed down to the room below. A reminder that in these old houses which have been left abandoned for many years there are hidden dangers which aren't obvious on first inspection. With badly damaged legs I managed to free my self and leave the house, leave behind a house with a sad past. The most poignant things inside were the windows covered in newspaper to block out the outside world and the downstairs room made into a one room bedsit for the last occupant to live out her final days. 

As I write this, the house is covered in scaffolding for renovation. A house of such splendid character albeit with sadness etched inside its very foundations may well rise from its solemnity once again.