The rammed earth cottage we stayed in, whilst holidaying down south, is actually located a few miles out of Margaret River proper - closer to a town called Witchcliffe
Right up the road from this cottage is an old (now defunct) wood mill.
Every time we've holidayed there I pay the old mill cottages a visit - and do a bit of exploring
(Hubby usually will not join me in this adventure - he finds them too creepy)
This time round I decided to take some photos.
I find them quite charming and I can imagine what they were like when still occupied by the people who worked the timber mill. There are stables out the back and a small front porch out the front.
Obviously over time they have been occupied by a variety of people
(some legally, some illegally?)
I love looking for clues and waxing lyrical about cosy fireplaces and living off the land.
From what I could see inside they have been modernised
(pretty sure they did not have ovens such as these in the 1930s?)
I tried to do some research but the details of the cottages are quite sketchy.
There are three in total (all along the same road)
One is occupied, one is boarded up and this one is the most run down of the lot.
So I braved the creaking noises, the dark interior and entered.
Camera in hand
I just love venturing into places and looking for clues
(When I was a kid I dreamed of working for Scotland Yard... seriously)
Of course I let my imagination run wild and dream up all sorts of passionate, criminal and deviate events that may (or most likely may NOT) have taken place.
Truth is I'm pretty sure I'd crack the 10 second mile if I found anything REALLY scary.
Then again.. this loo was pretty frightening.
Have to be more than a little desperado to use it methinks.
Still there were a few romantic elements in amongst all the cobwebs and filth...
Like the vines growing over all the outbuildings and this
stunning screen door handle...
(I was tempted to nick it - I wont lie)
Or the Medusa like figure sculpted by the vandalism of a few electric conduits.
I found a room, running off the side of the front porch, which must have functioned as a cloak room.
(probably a bit posh to call it that - but dirty work jacket and boot room doesn't quite sound as nostalgic now does it?)
Upon closer inspection I deemed that the occupants were not christened with names that stirred the literary musings of my crazy mind - Fitzwilliam? Heathcliff?
Hang on they were gentlemen, not working class - let's see..
A Mr John Thornton perhaps?
Nope... no such like.
Still one wonders what reverie occupied the time of men by the name of Andy, Spear and Casper?
(Australian nicknames surely?)
But even in this room there was a tiny flicker of mystique to be
What is it about moss?
What magic does it hold?
(I'm transported to Pip's return to Miss Havisham's house after all those years...)
I did in fact bring some back with me.
Have grandiose plans to get it growing in every shady part of my garden.
Will be realistic though and start off by putting it in a terrarium.
(Last lot I gathered died within a week... Booo)
Wish though I could have magically transported the cottage into my backyard.
(Note to self: research Harry Potter spells for appropriate cottage gathering, moss growing
Happy Week to you all peoples!
PS - Rain on the radar... Yay!