I have noticed that it’s since been boarded up to high heavens so whilst it still awaits a new future, it’s a little safer to talk about it than it once was. If nothing else, this was an absolutely beautiful farmhouse. Not the oldest but definitely one of the more grand that I’ve visited. Its familiar pre-war design suggests that it was built around a century ago, had very few changes of ownership, and lasted pretty darn well by all accounts.

Google maps shows little in the way of change dating back to its first street view imagery around the year 2000. This follows suit around the entire property, with next to no signs of the digital age having been a part of the lives of those who lived here.

Anyone who remembers the old 1990's TV show 'Through the keyhole' starring Loyd Grossman might appreciate this little uncovering. So, I'll say it; "who lives in a house like this?"

You’re probably wondering first of all how I’ve come to identify the owner of the house. All things considered, the inside is relatively sparse. There’s no signs of any recent tenancy, and there’s no furniture that would indicate someone having used it any time in the past decade at the very least. What I could find was two documents, both signed with one name; Wilfred Lawson Sagar. Born according to the national archives in a modest terrace in Burnley on 3rd January 1888.

The first document is a certificate gifted on behalf of the ‘City & guilds of London Institute incorporated by the royal charter department of technology’. Dated 1909, the signature of holder gives us the first mention of the name ‘Wilfred Lawson Sagar’. Given that workers around the late Victorian era would typically enter careers around the age of 14, this wouldn't give enough time to have afforded this house by the 1920's when we presume it was built, given it's size it would simply have been out of the question.

Looking through the local archives around this time, more evidence reveals the latter to be true. Wilfred would have lived somewhere far more modest and industrial before moving here later in his life, and sure enough the marriage certificates indicate only one Wilfred Sagar in Lancashire to have married in that era.

According to online records, Wilfred married Alice Sagar (born Lowe in 1890) sometime in the year 1919, at age 31. They were both registered as cotton weavers at the time of registry, with Alice having been born in Chorley, no doubt paving the way for her husband to migrate from his home town when the opportunity presented itself.

So now we know that Wilfred had started his career as a weaver in Burnley and within the next ten years had met his new wife Alice presumably through their workplace. They had their first child, Betty Wilfreda Sagar in 1926, After this there is no further records until their nephew, son of Wilfred's brother William, also a weaver, marries in the wake of the second war some 35 years later.

By this time Wilfred has retired and would be in his early 60's.The certificate reads as follows:

Marriage: 9 Jun 1949 St Stephen, Burnley, Lancs. Jack Sagar - 29, Postal and Telegraph Officer, Bachelor, 23 Irene Street, Burnley. Alice Mary Clinton - 23, Secretary, Spinster, 195 Todmorden Road, Burnley

Groom's Father: William Sagar, Retired Bride's Father: William Clinton, Deceased, Accountant

There was very little clues left behind as to what his wife Alice did in her later life, other than that she kept diaries from her later work as a school teacher in the 1940's. Perhaps Wilfred also progressed beyond his days as a weaver in his later life. Either way, they were clearly comfortable enough to upgrade to what is by all accounts a much bigger house than most people still live in now.

So with Wilfred's family now leaving the nest and his career behind him with a pension in wait, we now know he left the town of Burnley, which was still industrialised at the time, to find greener pastures among the fields of Chorley.

With a beautiful detached home and a decent acre or so or land, Wilfred began to focus on his retirement passion which was clearly motoring. We found his AA card signed and registered on top of his desk, which was the golden ticket to a life on the road at a time when British motoring wasn't an altogether reliable affair.

The oldest car in the yard was basically impossible to identify. At a guess, this could have been a jaguar at first glance but nature had ripped it apart at the front end but on the plus side it made for a beautiful sight when we visited in the middle of spring.

Nature's done a pretty good job at hiding what this car once was, but only once we saw the back end could we make up our minds on this one. With the rear panel still indicating the classic Rover design. I'm fairly sure it's a 1959 Rover 80. Sporting a new Land Rover-derived straight-four engine these bad boys could reach a whopping 85mph. They didn't sell very well, though and were replaced half a decade later. Most would've ended up in a similar state to this one.