I've been meaning to post about this house for a while now. There have been art student films made about it and it was even used in a shoot for Vogue Korea, which reached the chicest corners of the interwebs.
It's generally known as the voodoo house or crazy voodoo house and over the years, many rumours have surrounded it. You can't tell just how big it is from the pictures but it's an enormous, rambling Victorian villa on a corner plot. People say it's owned by the council and that they're letting it crumble so that when the elderly Jamaican man who resides there is gone, they can knock it down and build yet another ugly block of cheap flats in its place. Also well reported is that the man who lives there is crazy and stands on his porch all day shouting at passers by - and I'm pretty sure I've perpetuated that story myself.
However; whenever I've passed the house on foot I've noticed the beautiful, well kept rose bushes in the garden and pots of geraniums on the steps. The planks of the broken down old fence have been repaired and there's a new garage next to the burnt out one. Some windows have holes, it looks like where people have thrown stones, the paint isn't perfectly applied and the colour scheme is definitely not to everyone's taste. Some people think of it as an eyesore, some think of it as a landmark. It's creepy and cheerful at the same time.
In honour of Halloween approaching I decided to pay the spooky house a visit on a blindingly sunny and cold morning.
When I got there I started snapping away at the garden and exterior of the house. You can find photos of it on Flickr and elsewhere but I wanted to show the garden. Frankly, I wasn't bold enough to go and ring on the doorbell to ask permission; but since it's not at all unusual to see people taking photos of it I felt it was ok.
Then I saw movement in the garden and my heart skipped a beat. It was a little like when you're a kid and your imagination is in overdrive making up stories about people in the neighborhood - for example, when I was a wee tot there was a lady in the neighbourhood who worked for Superdrug (like a cheaper version of Boots The Chemist) and my little friends and I thought that meant she was a drug dealer and ran away terrified every time we saw her.
Thankfully I am now an adult and he looked so sweet pottering around the garden that I walked around (still outside the fence) and said hello. At this point I had no idea of the reaction I would get and he was holding a fairly sharp garden fork. And guess what?
He was the sweetest man ever. We had a little chat and I told him I'd seen his house in a magazine and he said, oh yes it's been in magazines all over the world. Emboldened by his response I asked if I could take his picture because his yellow trousers the same colour as the masonry were just too fabulous not to record. I kept saying back a bit, back a bit so I could get his trousers in...
{photo by me}
So there you go. I forgot to ask his name but I'm glad I was able to debunk a myth and next time someone Googles the "The House on Loampit Hill" or "Voodoo House", hopefully this post will come up to balance out all the 'crazy voodoo' talk. It makes me so happy that there are houses like this and so many interesting characters like this around here. Sigh, I'm so in love with the 'hood.
*EDIT* Since I wrote this, in the interests of honesty I must admit I have seen my friend apparently ranting uncontrollably at passersby quite a few times. So I wouldn't just bowl up to the front door and invite yourself in for tea if he's having a bad day.
