Tales of the Urban Explorer: The Griffin Hotel

I stared up at ‘The Griffin Hotel’, wondering if that very top window could ever be viewed from again. One section was gone, the other intact and the rightmost swinging around in the wind.

Was there any stable flooring that high up, and what was in that extra small room that looked like it consisted of a window and little else?

'The Griffin Hotel', likewise glared down at me with a condescending visage of disgust. I could hear the words…, '...look…, new boards on my door and windows, so you are not getting inside arsehole...'

An article from 2020 tells of drugs, crime, and many break-ins. I noticed the image in this link shows the back of the pub also with new boards installed. Whoever is adding these needs to think, 'tin' and not 'wood' as the latter is especially easy to compromise.

From what I can see, the pub was built in 1905 and was famously owned by a Rugby League star. I can see images from 2018 of an open waterhole, so can only assume between that year and 2020, it was closed and boarded up.

We skittled around the back and was amazed to find someone had smashed down the wooden boards creating a semi-easy access point. Well... how unusual!

Some winding around various piles of shit hindered a little and at one point we had to climb over some pallets designed to deter, but nothing especially hampering.

Inside was not a complete disaster, but the usual mess I have encountered at many disused public houses with items flung around everywhere with a scattering of broken glass made up from various objects.

True to the above article, it wasn’t hard to spot needles of the used variety on the bar, though they were missing the needle component.

This section of the floor had been pulled up. Now what were they looking for under there, a cache of used white sports shoes complete with holes and tears?

I could go for that ‘Sunday Lunch’ at £5.99 per head. In 2018 that still would have been quite the deal. Could it be the chef’s experience was limited to burger flipping at McDonalds?

Deferring the stairs for now, we continued searching the lower areas of ‘The Griffin Hotel’, finding many overturned pieces of furniture scattered around.

The long dark red leather furniture hugging the edges of the room is quite typical of pubs built around the time; the tears, bits of masonry, glass shards, and fallen wallpaper due to the extreme dampness is not.

The beer pulling and pump equipment had all but been removed from ‘The Griffin Hotel’.

A tax demand from 2020 gives me a little more idea of when the landlord vacated. HMRC must be getting a little pissed off with the number of self-assessments that are ignored. If they think the £100 fine for late delivery will work, they can only hope the resident spiders may pay up and settle the debt.

That’s really girly writing and someone can’t spell ‘coffee’.

Look closely and you can see those old-fashioned tiles from a different age. They look like ugly flowers and do little to enhance the surroundings. Would you like to wake up to disturbing images like that while sleepily coming around from your close-call wet dream and stiffly pointing 'morning wood?'

If she was on that decaying read leather sofa lying naked, I would be pulling that rubber machine off the wall in search of a stray, ‘tickler fundom’.

‘Lopermide’ to put it bluntly is an anti-shit tablet, made to constipate you, and sadly it looks like someone beat me to that nice blond plastered on the rubber machine.

After all that excitement, we climbed the stairs noting once again, the lack of a bannister.

Those torn curtains would not hide your hairy balls, and the draft would likely shrink them to the size of a pair of small walnuts.

It’s too late for that, we already did.

How cosy, side-by-side beds, intact windows to stop you from freezing your arse off and someone even pulled the radiator down so it’s nice and close.

Very comfortable I would bet, however, there's little glass in the windows, and it could get a little chilly in there.

Another nice cosy room with glass in the windows, a double mattress, and even a DVD player.

If the residents would cease throwing all the furniture about, a desk could probably be recovered to go with the wonky-looking chair.

Beer, pizza, cheap knockoff cola, McDonald's remains, and Bran Flakes. A nice balanced diet.

Someone has a tobacco problem.

Having exhausted the first-floor sights, we ascended in search of that strange-looking room I mentioned earlier.

On the turning of the stairs, I quickly figured the top floor was another burnt mess.

Calling that number means you suck, or you can suck..., I can’t imagine what.

We wandered in and out of the top-floor burnt rooms noting the floor was reasonably stable for a hellhole. I never did spot the three-windowed apparition.

The first of the day, and a successful infiltration. I wondered if this trend would continue.

We left with a target of ‘The Muff House’ in our sights. The day was going to get a little more interesting.

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