Dynamite, sex toys – and liver? Readers on the weirdest things they've found in a new home
It took a year of remodelling the house before I finally got around to sorting through the sheds. There was a lot of rotting junk: mouse-eaten baseball caps, a wooden bat, old cassette tapes and a very large suitcase. When I opened the suitcase, I fell backwards and screamed. My husband and neighbour came running up the driveway. It was a body in two parts: a full head of hair, arms, hands and a torso in one half; legs and feet in track pants and sneakers in the other. Both halves wore an Adidas tracksuit.
We peered inside to get a better look. She was a full-size resuscitation doll, probably used to train ferry personnel in first aid and rescue. My husband looked at me, his mouth wide open and his eyebrows raised. 'I told you so,' I said. BL, Washington, US
I moved into the house in 2006, but it took me almost 10 years to venture properly into our loft. It had been partly floored already, but I needed to finish the job to create an arts studio for my studies.
The loft was completely empty, or so I thought. After poking about, I found a carrier bag wedged in the roof. Inside were about 10 pairs of old, worn-out, 1970s-style Y-fronts. The discovery amused and disgusted me. One pair had a logo that said 'Half Way Inn'; another, in white, had a grubby brown colour on the front. I kept the four best pairs and put them on display in the studio. The pants would be horrible to most people, but they fascinated me and made me laugh. They were perfectly, disgustingly beautiful.
A couple of years after the discovery, I started dating. My boyfriend did not understand my fascination with the pants – he is the opposite of me and very conventional. When we decided to move in together, he strongly made the point that I wasn't allowed to bring them. It was him or the pants. I did consider hiding them. Oonagh, Angus, UK
My husband and I bought a property a few years ago from a couple. When we first visited the home, the wife was wearing an unmissable gold cross. She took charge of the viewing while her husband seemed relegated to the garage.
After the couple moved out, we found a Bible sitting on an out‑of-the-way shelf in the garage. I flicked through it and found a folded sheet of paper with details of a prayer meeting. It belonged to the husband of the cross-clad former owner of the house. Written on the sheet of paper were the words: 'Why I am at this prayer meeting today,' to which he had scribbled the response: 'Because I always feel guilty.'
Some months later, we noticed a blackbird flying in and out of the garage. It was building a nest and we wanted to see whether eggs had been laid. My partner went inside and climbed up a ladder. They had nested in a hard-to-reach corner. Next to the nest sat a smartphone. After we charged the phone up and switched it on, a ransomware notice flashed up, naming the prayer-meeting husband as the owner of the phone. Being fairly tech-savvy, it didn't take too much effort to remove the ransom notice – and we were presented with a browser page dedicated to hirsute elderly women, featuring a dozen or so photos of ladies enjoying themselves. This appeared to explain his guilt-ridden prayer‑meeting notes. Anonymous
When I was in my 20s, with a newborn, I moved back to a flat my mum owned. She had rented it out to another woman who had recently given birth. They only lived there for six months, but they had made their mark on the place: their dogs had eaten the cushions off the sofa; it was a real mess.
While cleaning, I found a carrier bag in the freezer that looked like a lump of liver. I'm a vegetarian, so I don't know what different cuts of meat look like. We had a dog, so we put the mystery meat outside in the back garden and he ate it. We didn't think anything of it, then two weeks later my mum got a phone call. It was the previous tenant, who said she had accidentally left her placenta behind and asked for it back. Mum didn't tell her the dog ate it – she said it had been thrown away. You wouldn't expect such an important thing to be left behind in the freezer … Melissa, Pembrokeshire, UK
In 1986, I bought my first flat. While clearing out the fitted wardrobes that came with it, I found a loose carrier bag tucked underneath a drawer. I opened it up and inside was an item that I thought looked like a man's willy. I was right. On further inspection, I realised it was a used, battery-operated vibrator. I'm so glad I had cleaning gloves on.
My elderly mum was with me when I discovered the bag. I said: 'Oh, that can go in the bin.' Unaware of its contents, my mum replied: 'She probably doesn't realise she's left that and might want it back. You should ring her.' After some back and forth, I showed her my discovery. She looked for a minute and then said: 'Oh good God! Your father can take it to the tip.' I shoved it into a black bag with lots of other things that needed to go. Dad never knew what was inside. Sally, Wiltshire, UK
I moved into an old farmhouse with my wife and her daughter in the early 1970s. The previous owner lost his temper a lot in our dealings with him; if we said something he didn't like, he would raise his voice and put his fist up in the air. He frightened the wits out of my solicitor and I kept my contact with him as low as possible.
When we moved into the house, he still had his animals and possessions in the outbuildings. When he finally took his stuff with him, I had a look around. In the dark corner of a room, lit by a single naked bulb, I found an old cardboard box labelled Nobel – the name of an explosives manufacturer with a factory nearby. I was pretty sure what I was going to find when I opened it. The box contained three or four sticks of explosives and detonators that looked brand new.
I had never handled explosives before, so I phoned the police. It took them three hours to find me. When they arrived, I showed them what I had found and they said: 'Oh yes, those are explosives,' and off they went. The next day, the bomb-disposal squad arrived, in a Morris Traveller, of all things, to remove the items. One of them returned from the outbuilding with the box and a broad smile on his face. I found out later that the explosives had started to become unstable; they would have gone off with a nasty bang if they had detonated. Alan, Wales, UK
In 1996, I moved into a house with my daughter. The previous owners, a couple with two children, were portly and eccentric. They left in such a rush that some things were forgotten. While cleaning out a cupboard in the master bedroom, I found a surprising item lodged on a top shelf: a flesh-coloured rubber sex suit made for two people. It was stuffed into its original packaging – after, I assume, being taken for a test run; it didn't look pristine.
It was a very odd sex item. It had instructions on the front on how to rub your bits together. Vibrators are one thing; full-body sex suits are another. Given their plump stature, I wasn't sure how they would have got into it, never mind out of it. It certainly would have restricted blood supply. I left it out for the bin men, but I was worried they might think it was mine. They're always asking for a tip, but who knows why. Maybe they're after some hush money. NT, London, UK
Twenty years ago, I bought a charming home, but the inside was a neglected mess. I soon found myself on my knees in the bathroom, washing around the back of the toilet, when I encountered a small, crumpled package tucked out of sight. It was a handkerchief tied around something. My heart thumped wildly. Could they be jewels?
Sadly not. I unfolded it and gasped to see five long, yellowy-brown teeth filled heavily with gold. I laughed out loud with surprise and a kind of horror. The estate agent gave me a forwarding address, so I wrote a note to the previous owners telling them of my find, but I never received a reply. I popped the teeth into a glass jar, thinking one day I would do something with them.
I later sold the home and moved out of town. While at my local shopping centre, I saw a stall buying gold. I knew what I could sell. I tumbled the teeth on to the counter. The girl behind the till wasn't fazed; she'd seen it all before. 'Are they your father's teeth?' she asked. 'God, no,' I said, shocked at the suggestion. She got out some heavy-duty pliers and began crushing the teeth to separate the gold from the enamel. She put the nuggets on the scales and offered me A$60 for the lot. I quickly refused, as that seemed like a real rip-off. Years later, the remains of the golden teeth are still in that glass jar. Silda, Sydney, Australia
I was ecstatic when my family and I moved to an old Victorian-era house on Long Island. After moving in, I noticed that the previous owners had left pennies on all the window sashes. I had no idea what it meant, but since they were nice people, I figured it was a gesture of goodwill on their part, representing good wishes for our future in the house.
Several years later, as I was getting ready for bed, I heard a cacophonous racket in the attic above – the noise of someone stomping up and down and throwing boxes and furniture around. I sent my husband up to see what was going on and he found nothing: no one there; not a single item out of place. At that point, the word 'poltergeist' popped into my mind. I'm not afraid of ghosts; I was charmed by the thought that we were sharing our new (old) house with one.
Now, I think the pennies weren't so much a goodwill wish as an attempt at poltergeist protection. It's still a mystery to me. Nancy, New York, US
The contributors featured in this article responded to a Community callout. You can contribute to open callouts here
Do you have an opinion on the issues raised in this article? If you would like to submit a response of up to 300 words by email to be considered for publication in our letters section, please click here
Hashtags
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
The Guardian
3 hours ago
- The Guardian
Southwest Airlines apologizes after two blind passengers left behind by plane
The US's Southwest Airlines has publicly apologized after two women who are blind were both left behind by a plane flying to Orlando that the pair evidently should have had the opportunity to be on. Southwest eventually ended up flying the women, Camille Tate and Sherri Brun, on another flight for which they were the only two passengers, with the rest being rebooked on a plane that left earlier, according to recent reporting from the Orlando news stations WSVN and WOFL. Nonetheless, as WSVN noted, the two friends from Florida remained outraged at their experience, which resulted from their not being able to see information about the rebooked flight and not being verbally notified of the switch by the airline. 'The way they help their customers [who] require additional assistance needs to change,' Brun told the outlet. Tate added: 'There needs to be some improvement in how they communicate with passengers, especially those that have disabilities.' Brun and Tate booked themselves to take flight 2637 from New Orleans to Orlando on 14 July, and it was delayed by five hours. They waited at their original gate for the duration of the delay and then realized they were the only passengers on the flight when they boarded. According to Brun, she and Tate were told: 'You're the only two people on this flight because they forgot about you.' A statement from a Southwest spokesperson explained that nearly all of Brun and Tate's would-be fellow passengers were rebooked on another of the airline's flights that left to Orlando earlier from a nearby gate. Neither Brun nor Tate were rebooked on that earlier flight, and the friends said they had no idea it was even an option because – without sight – they never saw information related to rebooking. 'Nobody … told us anything,' Brun said, according to WSVN and WOFL. 'Nobody came to get us … The time passed.' Tate reportedly remarked: 'That airplane took off and our boarding pass had not been swiped.' The two friends said they took their unique flight story to the media to raise awareness about something that could happen to other similarly situated passengers unless the airline implements changes. Southwest's statement said it had offered Brun and Tate each a $100 voucher, explaining how they were not eligible for a full refund because they had completed their originally scheduled flight. 'We apologize for the inconvenience,' the statement continued. 'Southwest is always looking for ways to improve our customers' travel experiences, and we're active in the airline industry in sharing best practices about how to best accommodate passengers with disabilities.'
The Guardian
3 hours ago
- The Guardian
How to make the perfect peach cobbler – recipe
'If you go to a picnic in the south,' wrote the late South Carolina chef Emily Meggett, 'and there's no peach cobbler, someone's got some explaining to do.' Cobblers, a rustic variety of fruit pie that seems to have originated in the rough-and-ready environs of the American west, are now principally associated with the US south and are, as chef Brad McDonald observes, 'unglamorous' yet 'rarely fail to please'. As befits frontier food, they're extremely adaptable to a variety of climates and kitchens, too, but, as the southern food critic James Villas once explained, 'no matter how you construct a hot cobbler, the main principle is that the filling should never be either soggy or dried out and the crust must be crisp enough to create a good counterpoint with the soft fruits or berries – not to mention the obligatory scoop of ice-cream on top'. Far easier to pull off than a pie, but more impressive than a crumble, cobblers are a great way to use a bargain tray of overripe or bruised fruit, should you be lucky to come across such a thing. Peaches, obviously – but peaches in the UK will not usually be as fresh as those in the American south, which means we have to adjust our expectations accordingly. A couple of recipes call explicitly for 'ripe but firm' fruit, which does not mean those cannonballs sold as ready-to-eat in many British retailers; I speak from bitter experience when I assure you that a peach that is crunchy when raw will still be al dente once baked. Though not squashy, the fruit ought to give a little under your fingertips (a good fruit vendor should be happy to pick some out for you, though sadly our supermarkets do not offer that service, so you'll have to take it on trust or do some discreet and gentle squeezing). That said, even in the south, there's a delightfully bitchy hierarchy of peaches, with Villas instructing the reader of The Glory of Southern Cooking to 'forget most of what you've heard about Georgia peaches. Yes, Georgia peaches are certainly far superior to the pulpy, bitter peaches they grow in California, but where I go for sweet peach perfection is to the South Carolina Piedmont region, intersected by Interstate 77 and, more specifically, to the Peach Tree and other orchards in and around Filbert. Peach fanatics from as far away as Pennsylvania and Kentucky flock to the Peach Tree every summer to see and smell and taste the luscious early belles, white ladies, lorings and indian red clings'. Meanwhile, I head to the greengrocers. Controversially, I will not be peeling the fruit. Everyone peels the fruit, I know, because they seem to have an aversion to what America's Test Kitchen (ATK) terms 'any unpleasantly leathery bits of skin', but, as with apples, tomatoes and even potatoes, I happen to like a bit of chew – a skinless peach feels like a tinned peach to me, and though tinned peaches have their place (a hotel breakfast buffet), it's not what I'm after here. Plus, a ripe peach is a pain to peel. (I can almost hear the southerners murderously murmuring: 'Bless her heart'). Ripe peaches are a very wet fruit, which proves a problem in recipes such as the one in McDonald's book Deep South, where they're used raw – this proves the first clue to perhaps the most important lesson I learn about peach cobbler: the dish should always be placed on a rimmed baking sheet, because if it can bubble over, you can bet your bottom dollar it will. Cutting the fruit into chunky wedges, as he suggests, rather than slices, is a good start; too thin, and they have a tendency to dissolve into perfumed mush in the oven. Like ATK , McDonald uses cornflour to thicken those juices (Edna Lewis prefers plain flour) but, to my mind, more muscular action is required to stem the tide. While this shouldn't be a dry dish, equally, too much juice will make the topping soggy. Chef Joe Randall's recipe in the book he co-authored with Toni Tipton-Martin, A Taste of Heritage, marinates his peaches with sugar, flour and spices to draw out the juices, then simmers them until those juices start to thicken – yet with similarly liquid results. I'm beginning to suspect that ATK's claim that 'most of the juices are not released until the peaches are almost fully cooked' is correct. My multi-prong solution, like ATK's, is to drain off some of the liquid produced by mixing peaches with sugar and leaving them to sit, then to thicken that with cornflour and to pre-bake the fruit before adding the topping, to give that liquid more time to evaporate, as well as to leave enough gaps in said topping to encourage further evaporation. Everyone uses sugar, naturally, and some in quantities that are a little too much for those not weaned on sweet tea. Randall's dark brown sugar feels a little too treacly for this fresh fruit, but I like the idea of a lighter brown sugar with peaches – it just feels apt somehow. Almost everyone adds butter to their filling – I want to say it's too much, but I'm afraid it does help make the syrup deliciously rich, so omit it at your own risk. Lewis, or Miss Lewis as she was properly called and is always referred to in her book with Scott Peacock, The Gift of Southern Cooking, also adds a pinch of salt, which, like the lemon juice in Meggett's, Randall's and the ATK recipes, helps to make the peaches taste … peachier somehow. If you happen to have some knocking around, I'd also highly recommend a dash of the almond essence in Villas' recipe – not so much as to make the filling taste nutty, but just enough to enhance the flavour of the almond's close cousin, the peach. McDonald mixes the peaches with raspberries – which, personally, I don't care for when cooked (they break down completely in the peach juice, but if you like the idea, stick a handful in). She also adds vanilla and cinnamon, which we all like less than Miss Lewis and Randall's nutmeg; peaches and sugar are sweet enough, after all, without enhancing that with cloyingly sweet spices. Randall's ground cloves prove a surprise hit, but one spice feels like quite enough in a place where peaches hardly grow on trees. I thought I knew what a cobbler was until I started the research for this dish and found myself rolling out a lovely, delicately crumbly pastry for Randall's double-crust version. Peacock helpfully explains that 'in the US south, the term 'cobbler' is applied to a host of baked fruit desserts. To Miss Lewis, 'cobbler' meant a kind of deep-dish pie with fruit baked between a bottom and top layer of pastry … to other southern bakers, a cobbler might have only a top pastry crust. In Alabama, we called anything a cobbler that had fruit covered by a baked topping.' (He goes on to reminisce about 'one of the more distinctive cobblers of my childhood', from a local barbecue joint, that involved 'canned peaches covered with a box of Duncan Hines Yellow Cake mix – dry – with melted butter poured over the top'.) The most distinctive cobbler I try comes from Meggett's book, Gullah Geechee Home Cooking, co-authored with Kayla Stewart and Trelani Michelle, on the Lowcountry cuisine of coastal South Carolina, and particularly her lifelong home, Edisto Island. Instead of a top crust, the dish is filled with a buttery sponge batter topped with peaches – it's light, fluffy and very quick to make, though, good as all the recipes are, I like the scone-like toppings in McDonald and the ATK recipes best; if I'm serving up something called a cobbler, I don't want it to feel like a pie or an upside-down cake, but something distinctively different, as well as emphatically American. Both recipes use fluffy drop biscuits, rather than the flakier rolled kind – for a British audience, these are more like dumplings than rowies/butteries – which makes sense, because they're better suited to soaking up juice (and, in keeping with the spirit of the cobbler, much quicker and easier to make). The method is similar to scones, but uses a wetter dough, moistened with McDonald's tangy buttermilk, which my testers prefer to the more neutral but richer yoghurt in the ATK recipe. But we all agree some raising agent is required; an unleavened dough, though tasty, does have tendency to sit heavy as a stone upon the fruit. Adding it to a filling that's already hot helps it to cook through in time, and though the biscuit itself shouldn't be too sweet, in contrast to what lies beneath, a final topping of granulated sugar adds a delightful crunch. Miss Lewis served her peach cobbler with 'an unusual' (but very tasty) nutmeg syrup, but more common pairings are vanilla ice-cream (McDonald and Randall), whipped cream (ATK) and even, non-canonically, creme fraiche or yoghurt. But ice-cream is, in my opinion, the American dream. (Note that this is good served warm as well as well as hot, but not chilled, because that makes the topping turn a little doughy. You could marinate the peaches in advance, but don't make the biscuit dough until just before baking.) Prep 10 min Marinate 30 min+ Cook 45 min+ Rest 15 min Serves 6 About 800g ripe but fairly firm peaches (about 4-5 medium-sized ones)2 tbsp soft light brown or demerara sugar, or white sugar if preferredA pinch of salt 15g butter, diced, plus extra for greasing1½ tsp cornflour 1 tbsp lemon juice ¼ tsp almond extract (optional) ½ tsp freshly grated nutmeg Ice-cream, to serve For the topping100g cold butter 175g plain flour 2 tbsp caster sugar ¼ tsp fine salt 1 tsp baking powder 150ml buttermilk, or 145ml milk mixed with 1 tsp lemon juice or vinegar1 tbsp demerara sugar Cut the peaches into chunky wedges, scatter with the sugar and salt, then leave to sit at room temperature for at least 30 minutes. Heat the oven to 220C (200C fan)/gas 7, and grease a baking dish just large enough to hold all the fruit in a single layer. Grate or dice the 100g butter for the topping and put it in the freezer. Drain the juice from the steeped peaches and reserve. Arrange the drained peaches in the base of the rimmed baking dish. Put the cornflour in a small bowl, stir in two tablespoons of the reserved peach juice, plus the lemon juice and almond extract, if using, until dissolved, then toss this mix and the nutmeg with the peaches. Top with the diced butter. Put the peach dish on a rimmed baking tray, pop the lot in the oven and bake for 10-15 minutes, until the juices are bubbling. Meanwhile, put the flour, caster sugar, salt and baking powder for the topping in a large bowl. Add the frozen grated butter, toss to coat, then rub in with your fingertips just until the mix resembles coarse crumbs with visible pieces of butter still in there – it shouldn't be fully rubbed in. Once the peaches are bubbling, turn down the oven to 200 (180C fan)/gas 6 and stir the buttermilk into the flour to make a wet, shaggy dough. Dollop this on top of the fruit, leaving spaces between the blobs for them to expand. Top with a sprinkling of demerara sugar and bake for another 30-35 minutes, until golden. Remove, leave to cool for at least 15 minutes, then serve with ice-cream. Proper southern peach cobbler? Go on, tell me how it's really done!
The Guardian
4 hours ago
- The Guardian
Southwest Airlines apologizes after two blind passengers left behind by plane
The US's Southwest Airlines has publicly apologized after two women who are blind were both left behind by a plane flying to Orlando that the pair evidently should have had the opportunity to be on. Southwest eventually ended up flying the women, Camille Tate and Sherri Brun, on another flight for which they were the only two passengers, with the rest being rebooked on a plane that left earlier, according to recent reporting from the Orlando news stations WSVN and WOFL. Nonetheless, as WSVN noted, the two friends from Florida remained outraged at their experience, which resulted from their not being able to see information about the rebooked flight and not being verbally notified of the switch by the airline. 'The way they help their customers [who] require additional assistance needs to change,' Brun told the outlet. Tate added: 'There needs to be some improvement in how they communicate with passengers, especially those that have disabilities.' Brun and Tate booked themselves to take flight 2637 from New Orleans to Orlando on 14 July, and it was delayed by five hours. They waited at their original gate for the duration of the delay and then realized they were the only passengers on the flight when they boarded. According to Brun, she and Tate were told: 'You're the only two people on this flight because they forgot about you.' A statement from a Southwest spokesperson explained that nearly all of Brun and Tate's would-be fellow passengers were rebooked on another of the airline's flights that left to Orlando earlier from a nearby gate. Neither Brun nor Tate were rebooked on that earlier flight, and the friends said they had no idea it was even an option because – without sight – they never saw information related to rebooking. 'Nobody … told us anything,' Brun said, according to WSVN and WOFL. 'Nobody came to get us … The time passed.' Tate reportedly remarked: 'That airplane took off and our boarding pass had not been swiped.' The two friends said they took their unique flight story to the media to raise awareness about something that could happen to other similarly situated passengers unless the airline implements changes. Southwest's statement said it had offered Brun and Tate each a $100 voucher, explaining how they were not eligible for a full refund because they had completed their originally scheduled flight. 'We apologize for the inconvenience,' the statement continued. 'Southwest is always looking for ways to improve our customers' travel experiences, and we're active in the airline industry in sharing best practices about how to best accommodate passengers with disabilities.'
