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I wouldn’t normally urbex a house; but Beedingwood is a notable exception. The place was majestic, proud,
unique and desirable. How did it ever get into this state? As such, it reminded me of the exploits of John
Harris, dodging security, gamekeepers and fierce tenants to spy decaying country houses in the 1950s and 1960s. Although
he dealt with bigger structures, far grander, and still filled with family treasures, I felt that Beedingwood,
in its smaller way, was a taster of those early exploratory tales.
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