Two weekends ago I finally dusted off my poor triumph bike that has been neglected for nearly a year, oops. I love cycling I am not very good at it, but its one of my favourite forms of exercise that and DIY aha. Ben is a far more serious cyclist that I, so it was a challenge to keep up with him. He promised me that we could cycle to Barnes Hospital, a place that spooks him, but holds not only architectural joy to me but also a personal attachment. Built in 1875 this French Gothic revival building looks like a set for a Tim Burton film, it has been left to complete ruin, much to to my chagrin and is fenced up and barbed wired in to prevent further vandalism. Apparently, four local businessmen have purchased it to renovate into living spaces, but rumours of renovation have bubbled to the surface before.
The hospital served as a place for soldiers to recuperate during the Second World War and it was where my Dad stayed after he recovered from a head injury in 1989, I had no memory of ever seeing my dad there was probably too young to go, strange how things come around.