My Old House Is Gone

On this wintry August morning in Melbourne, I was returning from Ashburton when I suddenly decided to go see my old house on Moore Street in the nearby suburb of Ashwood...

...only to find, like lots of old houses in this area, that it had been demolished. And judging from the mud tracks seen here, only very recently. I must admit I was disappointed to see it gone, even though I only lived here for one year.

The view from the rear fence. Nothing left except the wheelie bins...

...except a couple of trees at the back, one of which had fruit. They looked like lemons, except they were smaller and orange. Whatever they were, I helped myself to six of them.

And just to show you what the house looked like, here's a photo of it as it was in April 2005, a couple of days after I moved in. It had an unusual layout; the front door was at the side, unlike all the other houses in that short street.

Inside An Abandoned House

This afternoon, my friend Rob and I were out for a stroll in the Melbourne suburb of Mount Waverley, not far from the train station. We were taking photos for an upcoming photo project when we noticed an abandoned house on Winbourne Street. The wheelie bins were arranged haphazardly at the front, and all the curtains were open, but clearly no one was home – the place was earmarked for demolition.

The first obvious signs of disarray were the awning at the side window that had fallen...

...and a couple of smashed windows had been boarded up. The grass was overgrown, but not by much. Round the back, there was an IGA shopping trolley and a shed.

There was a grassy path leading between this house and the next one. We followed the path, to find that it led to a tiny park, which was surrounded by the back fences of several houses, including the empty one. When coming back up the path to the street, Rob noticed that a sliding door at the side of the house was open. Through the door we could see some green graffiti on the wall behind, a sure sign that something untoward had been going on in there.

Naturally, we entered the house. Ever since one of my TAFE friends had shown me photos he took inside a disused lunatic asylum, I had always wanted to take photos inside an abandoned building. And I had my Sony camera with me – this was my chance!

As we stepped inside into what had been the laundry, we observed this crude graffiti made using lengths of tape and green paint. Year 3, much? The comments scrawled next to this effort say it all. Even peabrains have standards.

  

Just to the left of this, a massive hole had been kicked in the wall. Hey kids – I know this joint is about to be demolished, but they use special equipment for that. Don't waste energy trying to do it yourself. Still, the joke's on them if there's asbestos in there. Also, the hole is in the shape of a car. How amusing.

 

We then entered the front room, where I half expected a hunch-backed dwarf to leap out from behind that alcove to the left. The light fitting had been yanked out of the ceiling. Smashed glass from it was all over the floor. Here too, several attempts had been made to kick holes in the wall, as well as ram through them with a metal rod. Note the little-old-lady colour scheme in this room, with two colours of paint used, separated by a band of wallpaper with a tasteful floral pattern. Very nice.

This white board was obviously busted up, but the floor-to-ceiling mirrors on the sliding wardrobe doors in two bedrooms had surprisingly remained intact. Our vandals may be mindless, but they clearly didn't want 28 years of bad luck.

The other side of the huge hole in the wall. Nice.

All the rooms were empty of furniture – there was only assorted debris that mostly included food containers and remnants of the food contained therein. One bedroom had almonds scattered all over the floor; here in the front room was a container of chocolate ice cream in the corner with a fair bit of the ice cream splattered on the wall. You might be able to make out two cigarette butts in this picture. No beer bottles, bongs or half-smoked joints here – the vandals were probably not even old enough to use the big kids' playground.

The kitchen was surprisingly free of junk. A hole in the wall exposed the bricks, there were burn marks on the lino, and the glass in the oven door had been smashed.

For the glass to fall like that, I guess the door would have had to been open when it was smashed?

And finally, a calling card in what is clearly an 8 year old's handwriting. Too bad, kid – that's the nature of the real estate business. I guess you'll understand when you're an adult and you have teenage kids who think you're a tosser.

I'll spare you any photos and descriptions of what was left in the toilet. Trust me, you don't want to know, okay?