Some of the nicest and most rewarding locations are the ones discovered by chance. A wrong turn via a confused sat nav or a decision to just drive down a road just in case.

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After an aborted visit to another location some miles away I started the drive back home on a balmy June day and took the decision to ignore the sat nav and merely drive wherever, down winding lanes some unsuitable for a car but what the heck, it's those type of lanes which may have something in waiting.  Suddenly a glimpse of a chimney from a mass of  trees and I parked up at the bottom of a small track off road. On first look the cottage - surrounded by derelict out buildings - was obviously abandoned. The front garden overgrown so the path leading to the peeling door was buried and unrecognisable. Timber framed windows with their peeling paint had seen better days. Cobwebs clinging to the window sills besides old fashioned brightly coloured curtains. The ony sound to be heard, that of a farmer  in an adjacent field firing off shots from his shotgun which unneved me at first but quickly became a distant sound. 

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Inside the cottage a few tell tale signs of a former resident, bits of jewellery, an old cheque book, a vintage post card from the Isle of Man still perched on the living room mantle piece. What caught my eye first though was the cacophony of colours of the 1970's decor. Bright orange curtains, green wallpapers and the bright blue kitchen. Maybe this cottage has been abandoned for some decades, the postal mark on the post card would suggest someone by the name of Daisy was living here until maybe 15 years ago.  

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No sooner had I set my tripod up to start shooting the lounge that I first noticed the spiders. Too many and too big. There were dozens of them, in webs hiding in the corners or simply clinging to the walls. In the bright pink bathroom, the sink and bath were full of them so i didn't stay to take any photographs in that room. For as long as i remember I have been phobic of them and i wasn't about to use any flooding technique to try to cure myself so I gritted my teeth, photographed throughout then left, left behind yet another cottage with a mere glimpse of it's story to tell and slowly deteriorating and being reclaimed by mother nature.