This old cottage is only a few doors down from the house I spent my first 25 years, and from memory it has always been in a very poor state as far back as I can remember.
According to local 'common knowledge', this house belonged to a Mr Byrd who was a bit of an agriculturist and a hermit. Throughout my childhood I would always see him driving around in his flatbed truck, just roaming between the local town and back, and I would usually see him sat in his truck on his land just watching the world go by. His house was never treated with much respect, and it was left to overgrow and become part of the natural surroundings, as well as his 'garden'. Apparently the house also has a garage, of which I have never seen because it has been engulfed by so much foliage. Mr Byrd was removed from his house within recent years on health and safety grounds, due to the dire state of the property, and was relocated to a nearby B&B. Nevertheless he returned to his humble abode, I'm assuming because he still felt it was his 'home', though he made a habit of sleeping in his truck every night - the house really was not fit for anybody to live there.
I have always been unsure whether anybody actually resided in the property, though I recently received news that Mr Byrd had passed away. Feeling confident that nobody could be living there, surely, I decided to give it a visit. Gaining access was tricky; I couldn't simply go through the front door which meant I had to find an entrance around the back, away from the prying eyes of my previous neighborhood. This wasn't as easy as it sounds, due to the immense volume of foliage and brambles that had grown over the years. By the time I got to the rear of the house I was bleeding in several places from the several thorn bushes I'd had to crawl through (that's dedication for you! :P).
In my opinion, from the stories the interior told, Mr Byrd used to have a wife who sadly passed away many years ago, and child(ren) who have since flown the nest; the house holds many female items such as purses, shoes, dressing gowns and a whole wardrobe of clothes, as well as many children's books. Again in my own opinion, after his wife had passed away, Mr Byrd entered into a spiral of depression and loneliness, and time in the house stood still; Mr Byrd didn't want to touch or move anything. After a while, the house started to accumulate junk and dust, and many of natures creatures moved in. With Mr Byrd not having any motivation, the house was not maintained at all and things started to fall apart. After many years in this vicious circle, nature removed the face of the house from the street and it became forgotten
Thanks for taking the time to read, and there are more photos on my Flickr.