#261 – Cheadle Bleachworks

For reasons that are, at best unclear, and at worse, downright weird, I have this thing about industrial ruins. Not so ruined that you can’t tell what it was, but ruined enough to be beyond repair. Proper mongy old crap – roofs caved in, doors hanging off and such like. They’re usually quick to explore as there’s not much to see, and quite often mostly inaccessible, but from an aesthetic perspective, they can throw up some interesting photographs.

Cheadle Bleachworks was one of the most ruinous places I’ve stumbled through. The history of it is pretty vague as quite understandably, no-one has been bothered to spend that much time researching it, and it’s a pretty insignificant place anyway.

Not being burdened with much in the way of roofing, the strong directional sunlight shining through the remains of the decrepit structures made for some interesting shadows, and if anything, these are best displayed on the monochrome images. These are true monochrome inasmuch as they were taken on proper black and white film (Ilford XP2) using a Nikon FM. If anything, I think I prefer these to the ones I took of the same scenes in colour, but the colour images were better out of the direct sunlight. I also experimented for the first time with selective colour (see the first image), which at the time in 2007 was quite a popular technique. It’s fallen out of favour since somewhat, primarily in my opinion, because like HDR, people either overdid it or used blatantly unsuitable images. I’ve done very few other selective colour images, but I like to think that this one has stood the test of time and still works. It’s certainly done well in competitions.

‘PLEASE KEEP THIS DOOR CLOSED’

The site was a fairly unremarkable explore that doesn’t stand out in my memory, other than the crunching of broken glass and roofing material underfoot (which is why I always wear boots or safety shoes on explores), and the drums of unidentified chemicals that had been left / dumped in one of the rooms.

Company records still on site, although slightly singed after someone indulged in a spot of arson.

Boilers

Despite the apocalyptic devastation, it’s somewhat ironic that this site was bought by a developer who intended to convert some of the buildings to housing.  Mystifying to me as none of the buildings, in my opinion had any architectural merit whatsoever, but kudos to the developer for tackling this site and making a silk purse out of a real sow’s ear.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cheadle_Lower_Mill

Hard to imagine, but this is now a rather nice property, complete with a 100 foot tall red brick chimenea in the back yard, a talking point if nothing else.

# 259 – Staffordshire Collieries Part 1 – Chatterley Whitfield

Another one from the archives here, this was an ‘official’ visit to this crumbling edifice on a so-called open day. Actually, that’s being harsh and doing a disservice to our guides from the Ffriends of Chatterley Whitfield, who are probably more disappointed about the condition of this place than anyone else, and I’m sure have the best interests of the place at heart.

The colliery was one of the last in the Staffordshire coalfield, and upon closure, became a museum. however, this closed in 1993 due to drainage problems, but I’ve also heard that there were some other financial issues. However given the amount of infrastructure on site, the upkeep of the site must have been massive. That’s a great shame, because compared with other preserved collieries such as the National Coalmining museum in Yorkshire, it’s almost completely intact. Well, sort of. The majority of the site is out of bounds due to it being in such poor condition, indeed, I was speaking to a former NCB surveyor, who is now a consulting surveyor, and although he’d been asked to do a survey on the site, some bits they wouldn’t let him into due to it’s condition. THat it’s been allowed to deteriorate to such an extent is scandalous, and English Heritage have already listed it as being ‘At Risk’ and requiring at least £25million to repair (although given that you have to use a cartel of suppliers named by English Heritage to repair listed buildings, that might be somewhat inflated?).

 Platt Shaft

The worry is that the place will either just collapse, or end up having to be demolished. Given the lack of money around at the moment, especially amongst the public sector, I really cannot see how this place can be restored, at least not in its entirety. It would be a huge shame if it ended up as a watered down, stripped out museum like the National Coal Mining Museum (enjoyable though it is to visit).

Industrial landscape

So as we walked through the miles of Herras fencing with our hard hats and an unusually high number of escorts / guides, we had to contend with looking at the buildings and headstocks from something of a distance. Yes, yes, I know all about H&S considerations, insurance, etc, but it would have been nice to have been allowed a bit closer or even in some of the buildings.  The saving grace were our main guides, both former colliery workers, whose stories helped put a lot of the site into context, and it was worth the visit just for this alone.

Decay

The only buildings we actually entered were the lamp house and the semi-restored bath house, where I was fortunate to be able to capture one of my favourite photos, ‘Colliers Boot’.

Colliers Boot

Sinke – this being Stoke, I’d presume they were locally made

If you do get the chance to visit this place in one of the increasingly rare open days, do so, but don’t expect to see a great deal.

Former glory – probably taken some time in the 60′s or 70′s. Pretty much everything you see in this picture is still there.

# 245 – Dinorwic Slate Quarry

Bridge Of Doom? No, the gallery had given way beneath this track panel, leaving it suspended precariously in mid-air.

Remains of a weighbridge

Could there be a more appropriate landscape in which to film ‘Clash Of The Titans’? OK, so I’ve not actually seen the film in its entirety, but when security told me that I was welcome to go into the quarry but that the paths through the quarry were closing the following day so that filming could take place, I was immediately impressed at the choice of set.

As a stage, this must be the biggest and most impressive one ever to have appeared on the big screen. Smashed out of the Snowdonian mountains overlooking Llyn Peris, this enormous grey blot on the landscape was an active quarry for nearly 200 years, until more modern building materials resulted in a shrinking market that Dinorwic couldn’t compete in.

But for me, fascinating as this amazing landscape is, what lured me here was the industrial artifacts that had been left behind when the quarry closed. The 50 or so miles of railway within the quarry were served by a number of small narrow gauge locomotives, and these were all rescued and preserved when the quarry closed in 1969 by the nascent heritage railway movement. But remarkably, many other items of machinery and infrastructure were left behind, and 40 years later, their ochre brown surfaces provide a relief from the monotony of the green grass, grey slate and the grey skies of this bizarre landscape.

Although there is a public footpath through the middle of the quarry, the slopes are fenced off with a somewhat token 4 foot wire fence, which to my mind indicates that whoever owns it is, at best, not keen for people to explore the quarry. That’s as opposed to being utterly against it. So I hopped the fence, and started the ascent up through the mist, of the C4 incline. The inclines were used to haul trucks of slate down from the levels to be hauled away by rail for onward shipment. These were gravity worked, so empty trucks were hauled back up by the weight of the ascending full ones, albeit under the skilful control of the brakeman. I’m not entirely sure of the gradient, but I’d say somewhere between 30 and 45 degrees, so it’d pretty damned steep.

All the way up the incline are different levels or galleries, and on these were numerous remains of buildings in various states, mainly poor or virtually non-existent. The higher I got, the less I could see across the valley through the mist. Far below me, a helicopter flew along the lake, invisible but for the thump thump of it’s rotors, giving away the fact it was a Sea King.

As I wandered the galleries, I was surprised at just how much was left up there. The steam locomotives that remained in the quarry were all brought down and are all in preservation, but there’s still quite a lot of track, machinery, wagons and buildings to take a look at. On my own in the misty silence, it was hard to comprehend this being a site of massive activity, with steam engines hauling wagons of slate, men drilling and sawing, wagons rumbling up the inclines, and the blasting of explosives.

My attempt to ascend the second part of the C4 incline ended in failure. The slope was very steep, to the point that I had to use the crumbling stone stairs at the side of the grassy slope. By this point though I was shattered, a combination of being slightly unfit and the June humidity. I was bitterly disappointed as I’d really wanted to reach the australia level where the building remains with all the slate cutting machinery. I also wanted to see some Blondins, the cable car system that was in place across the quarry. That’s the thing, the quarry is just vast, I could easily have spent several days there.

As I made my descent, the gloom started to lift, and patches of blue sky emerged. By the time i reached the main path through the quarry, the mist had lifted and it was a full blow sunny day, revealing the beautiful lake below, and the hydro-electric power station site clinging to the edge of the lake. Built in the 70′s and taking advantage of the landscape . the power station gave employment to hundreds of former quarry workers in its construction, and is now a tourist attraction as well a major provider of back-up power to the national grid.

# 243 – Failed Heritage – Dunaskin Brickworks

I’m a regular visitor to Ayrshire on the west coast of Scotland, and ever since my first visit, I’ve been intrigued by its industrial past. The cross country road from the M8 to Kilmarnock, Ayr, etc crosses a bleak, moorland landscape, pockmarked by past and current mining activities. Today, it’s exclusively opencast, but until the 1980′s there were many deep mines, and the pot-holed road, worn out by the daily onslaught of artics full of coal, winds its way through the grim former mining towns and villages that no longer serve the pits they were built for.

The Ayrshire coalfield is one that has been mined for hundreds of years, and along with coal, iron ore was also mined until the 1930′s. It was these two minerals that  form the background to this unique site. Built as Dalmellington Ironworks in 1847, it worked until 1921, after which it became a brickworks, complete with Hoffman Kiln. Post war, the site was inherited by the NCB thanks to its owners being the local colliery owners, and brickmaking finally ceased sometime between 1976 and 1988, depending on which source you go off!

Like an irrepressible Phoenix, the works rose again from the ashes in the late 1990′s as the Dunaskin Heritage Centre, only to be closed in 2005, although part of the site is now used by the Ayrshire Railway Preservation Group.

It was against this backdrop that, faced with the prospect of an afternoon sitting in a Kilmarnock living room listening to my wife’s 6 month old nephew crying the house down, I excused myself for a couple of hours and made the short drive to the Doon Valley.

The Railway Group was on site, but not open to the public, so noting their presence and the palisade fence round the front of the site, in the best tradition of urbex, I went round the back. On the higher ground overlooking the works, lay a large level clearing, which was once home to a network of railway sidings, and a bit of mooching off the beaten track led me to the highest part of the site, the pug mill.

The Pug Mill from above – looks like more than 4 years of decay to me

Inside the Pug Mill

Looking down over the conveyor to the main works, and the landscape beyond

In the four years since closure, this place had fallen into abject decay (or maybe had been untouched since the works shut?) but looked an intriguing installation nonetheless. Amongst the fallen rafters and smashed up slate roof were two great iron wheels for crushing material. which was fed by conveyor to the buildings below. I couldn’t figure out how to get to them other than scaling down a 20 ft wall. So I continued to mooch in the direction of the works along the network of footpaths that ran across the hillside, until suddenly, I was standing next to brick buildings. Clearly the fencing budget was only sufficient to enclose one side of the site, so I just wandered in, albeit mindful that the railway group was active about 3o feet away.

Looking across to the Railway Preservation Groups part of the site

The first thing of interest was a large steam engine (a Howden compound enclosed high speed steam engine according to a correspondent to my website). It appeared to have been dragged out of the adjacent building and left on some railway sleepers, which seemed to be collapsing under the weight, leaving the engine at a somewhat jaunty angle.

You can’t really tell from the above picture, but the one below shows the somewhat precarious position of this engine.

A breize block wall into the building had been smashed down so a quick venture into the darkness revealed some kind of workshop facility, with a number of machine tools rotting away in the darkness. Upstairs was a large empty space. This building was originally a power station that was built in 1917 to supply electricity to the Royal Flying Corps’ Aerial Gunnery School at Loch Doon which was never completed, it remained in operation until 1956 and supplied electricity to the works.

A couple of milling machines rotting away in the basement. Beyond repair by now I’d have thought.

With not much else to see, I ventured outside for a walkabout and came across the Hoffman Kiln. This was similar to the one at Langcliffe albeit not as big.

A wrong turning took me down a dead end where I stumbled across some abandoned batteries. Naughty, I’m quite sure this kind of thing shouldn’t be left outside to just rot away into the ground?

Inside the buildings – not that much of interest to the untrained eye, although this conveyor system was neat.

I’m told that these pillars are part of the original blowing engine from the sites original use as an ironworks. I’m not entirely sure of their function in that regard, but I love the Victorian approach to embellishing functional things that are rarely seen.

# 242 – Loch Long Torpedo Testing Station

For a good period of my career, I worked in a compact disc manufacturing plant. Thanks to continuous investment, the factory was arguably a world class facility with excellent yields, excellent quality and the capacity and expertise to be highly responsive to customer demands. Despite all this, it closed in 2009. CD’s were rapidly becoming an obsolete technology, with consumers and record labels turning to the massively more convenient downloads.

That’s the thing with technology, it’s constantly evolving. Such was the fate of the Arrochar Torpedo Testing Range. Opened in 1912, it was ideally situated close to the Clyde naval bases and the Admiralty torpedo factories at Greenock and later Alexandria.

By the time it closed in 1986 (ironically, around the time the first CD’s were being pressed at my former employers), torpedo technology had moved on and were capable of operating in greater depths than afforded by Loch Long, and were not restricted to going in straight lines. In short, the geography of the area played against it.

Although I visit Scotland regularly, I didn’t get the chance to visit this place until 2009, two years after demolition had started (and then stopped). We were staying further down the Loch in one of those Victorian pseudo-castles so beloved of Victorian industrialists and financiers who had pretensions of being a country gent. Excusing myself for a couple of hours, I hot-footed it down to the top of Loch Long, although this took twice as long as envisaged due to the fact that Loch Long is a) long – hence the name, and b) surrounded by narrow, badly maintained, and windy roads.

Still it was an uncharacteristically sunny day, and by Scottish standards, quite warm. Set against the backdrop of the green Arrochar hills and still waters of the Loch, this was without doubt the most idyllic explore I’ve ever done. Sure there have been other rural explores, but the barren, windswept moorland around Grove Rake was not comparable to this.

Although the site was well fenced off, as you would expect of a former military installation, a wander round the beach and under the pier enabled me to get on site easily, once I’d figured out where the gaps in the fence were. As always,if at first you don’t succeed, go round the back for a look.

The place had been partially, actually, mostly demolished. It looked like the demolition contractors had stopped for the night, and then just lost interest and took their machines home. The control room at the end of the pier had been torched a year or so before, and while probably accessible if I’d been minded to, the idea of picking my way through a fire damaged building twenty or so feet above water was not that appealing.

Reading up on the excellent online history of the place here, helped give some context to the remaining features. All in all an interesting way to pass a spare hour or so.

Slipway up to the sheds. The rails would indicate that whatever was being pulled up (or down) would have been on a cradle, and as the gauge is quite wide, I’m guessing it was for a boat.

Looking south down the Loch. The burnt out remains of the control room can be seen at the end of the pier.

This remains one of  my favourite urbex photos.

Not so much a narrow gauge railway as a method of moving torpedoes round the place on their cradles.

A half arsed job of demolition.

Winch for what I’m guessing was the boathouse.

View of the pier from the other side. Not sure why they left some of the buildings partially intact during demolition.

Looking throuigh the locked gates to the burnt out end of the pier.

The timbers of the pier were substantial and in good condition.

Opposite the site, were a number of old prefabricated houses, I think these were for visitors or admiralty personnel on secondment.

# 236 – Best of 2011 Part 2

Misty paraboloids

The further I drove into Yorkshire, the foggier it became. In fact, I couldn’t even see the cooling towers until I was right next to them, and this was the site I was met with when I entered the site. Eerie.

Three Kings, Thorpe Marsh

As the fog cleared, the sun made an appearance, leading for just a few minutes, to an unusual tint to the mist around the cooling towers. Pity the foregound is boring.

Linda

Included in this selection as I took it on my cameraphone. I’d not intended going to the Ribble Steam Railway gala, but I was in the area, so I pulled in and had a look. Only had my phone on me, when I noticed the sun going down over the hill so I found a gap in the trees to see if I could get a ‘glint’. Not bad in the circumstances, but I’m sure the guy who came and stood next to me with a D700 would have got something a little bit better.

73129 at Burrs

I’ve seen loads of similar images from Burrs, but had never bothered to try and get something similar as I rarely visit this location. The raw file out of the camera showed some promise, so a quick tweak to the white balance and saturation resulted in this which I was quite pleased with.

73129 in Brooksbottom Tunnel

I’d never been in a tunnel before (except on a train), so the opportunity to go into one on a photo charter was not one to pass on. This turned out much better than I expected, and probably works better in colour than monochrome.

# 235 – Best of 2011 Part 1

In an idea shamelessly ripped off from Martin Creese’s excellent blog, I’ve decided to post up some of my favourite photos from the past year. Regular readers will probably recognise these pictures, but I’m halfway through writing half a dozen posts currently, so this seemed like a quick and easy way to fill in the gap until they’re ready!

On reflection, I’ve been less prolific in my favoured industrial / mechanical themes in 2011, as I have a lot less time on my hands than previous years, and this isn’t going to change, so there will be a lot fewer posts this year. However, I want to try to get up to #300 this year, but we’ll see.

Fernhurst Mill – Inside

This was one of my two explores of the year and was an old-fashioned (although hurried) through the fence and wander round explore around the now demolished Fernhurst Mill. I got some nice pics from the place, pity I didn’t get chance to see the fabulous engine house though. This one is very much my style and the kind of thing I look out for when exploring.

Fernhurst Mill – Outside

I like this as although it’s a fairly standard shot, the converging verticals emphasis the size of the place, and the piles of rubble and dark skies give a foreboding sense of what is to come for the doomed mill.

Zeebrugge

My only time spent overseas this year (unless you count The Isle Of Wight as being overseas) was a mini-cruise to Zeebrugge with the dreadful P&O. Well, the standard of service was poor on the ship, but at least Brugge was nice as was the weather. Taken from the deck of the ship as we left Zeebrugge.

The Driver

I took a whole series of similar photos at the nightshoot at the East Lancs, and it’s hard to pick a favourite. This once edges it for inclusion as it’s the most popular of the set on Flickr, although I still think the crop needs tweaking. Must remember to take my telephoto to this years so I don’t have to crop as much.

Vulcan

As a lifelong plane nut (as well as working in the aerospace industry), the Vulcan is my favourite plane ever and has been since I first saw it at airshows in the 1980′s. Various airshow cancellations and no-shows meant our paths hadn’t crossed since 1989, but finally, at the 2011 Southport Airshow, my famine ended. Charging down the coast at low level, a large black silhouette erupted from the wings of the stage that was Southport beach to perform its exquisite,  noisy ballet against a beautiful blue backdrop.  Perfection. But I converted it to black and white anyway to emphasis the elegance and menace that this endearing shape provides.

Ryde

A fairly average holiday in the Isle of Wight at least afforded me the opportunity to take a quick look at the crumbling remains of the paddle steamer Ryde. Due to its location it’s not possible to get an interesting camera angle on it like I could with the Duke Of Lancaster, so this is more of a record shot, as I can’t see it being there for much longer.

#231 – Huncoat Power Station

East Lancashire is a pretty grim place, and I’m saying that from the bitter experience as I used to live and work there. Most of the large private employers have moved out, and with the current swingeing public sector cuts, it ain’t getting any better. If it wasn’t for the aerospace sector, there would be very few high value adding jobs in the area. Other than the pleasant Ribble Valley, I’m struggling to think of a reason to visit East Lancashire, especially all my friends have moved away also.

So why have I explored this place twice?

There’s something about it that I find intriguing. From an aesthetic perspective, I’ve found it easy to photograph, with opportunities everywhere I looked. But the place, the entire site had something that grabbed my attention and held it like few other places. Which is odd, as there’s not a great deal there, the power station itself having been demolished in the late 80′s and just the admin block left. This itself is in typical but somehow slightly stylish post war industrial architecture that is often seen on power station buildings. A quick mooch round the site revealed remnants of the old power station – huge iron baseplates where large plant would have sat, and cut off stanchions. There’s something apocalyptic about this place that I like, and I’ll be sorry to see it demolished. For some reason, it reminds me of photos that I’ve seen of the old Beckton Gasworks in London taken during the 1980′s in its part demolished, film set guise for Stanley Kubricks Full Metal Jacket. It might be the unintelligible graffiti, or the bombed out nature of the place, I don’t know.

I’ve actually visited this place three times, first time there was a Police car sat by the main gates, to deter the local scallies who have already trashed the place, second time with a film camera, and third time with digital to do some HDR. The following photos are from the third visit.

Cut off – probably a stanchion that supported the roof.

Transformer hall - I really couldn’t care less about graffiti, but some of it in here was quite artistic.

Baseplates - big and iron. Quite surprised the pikeys haven’t removed them.

Angles

Doorway to oblivion. I imagine that at some stage, this was a bridge over to the main power station.

That’s actually a door on the floor, but for some reason, this photo has always reminded me of the grotty scaghead bedsits in Trainspotting.

Fenestration. Many windows (and toilets) in this place.

Three windows. One that made my ARPS portfolio.

Oblivion. Another one from the ARPS portfolio.

#230 – Grove Rake Fluorite Mine

Britain is a pretty compact nation, and you’re ultimately never that far from civilisation. Compared to say America, where you can drive all day and still not get across a state, in Britain, you’d run out of road before running out of day. So to go somewhere by road that is truly in the ‘middle of nowhere’ takes some doing.

The closest I’ve come to this is Grove Rake Fluorite Mine in County Durham. I’d first come across a picture of it in a photographic book several years previous, but had absolutely no idea where it was. And so it remained until I saw a report on 28 Days Later. My curiousity piqued, I did some searching on the internet but came up with nothing. And then another report appeared, so more searching ensued. I knew it was in County Durham, so much searching of Geograph finally gave me a result. Boy, was it remote, but if that’s where the flourite is, then that’s where the mine has to be.

The mine was closed comparatively recently (1999), but unlike British Coal who tear down their closed mines with indecent haste, this place has just been abandoned and left to the elements, presumably because the land is worth sod all, or maybe because their is hope that one day it could be re-opened.

The drive to the area was not one I’d want to do in a harsh winter, but thankfully this particular December was one of our milder ones. The drive to Alston goes through some quite remote landscapes (although the views over the Eden Valley are worth pausing for) but then it starts to get really wild. Miles and miles of nothing but miles and miles.

After stumbling around for a while trying to find the exact road, I suddenly spotted the headgear at the bottom of a remote, windswept valley. The wind was moving the clouds along at a fair old lick, which meant that lighting conditions were constantly changing, but this being late November, the sunlight was fairly weak.

Parking up on the main road for a wider shot, I struggled to compose a shot I liked, and I’ve still never been able to process the photograph into anything I’m something like happy with. I think there are just too many different tones and textures, and the sky doesn’t help. I do keep coming back to it every year or so, maybe I’ll get there one day.

Realising that this was a road that was used only a few times a day at best, and no-one lived nearby, I took the unusual step of moving my car closer to the site, and leaving it at the top of the access road. My pre-prepared excuse was that the access road was also a public footpath that actually ran through part of the mine, but I didn’t see another soul for several hours.

Having the place to myself and not having to keep an eye out for security or worry about access, I had a nice relaxed wander round. There were once two headstocks, as well as a couple of adits, but the smaller headstock was apparently nicked by pikies, and a lot of the surface infrastructure has also gone.

However, the large headstock is still there, and I suppose that was the main attraction. I was surprised at how crude the structure was, compared with some of the coal mining structures I’ve seen, being mainly angle iron. Perhaps because of this, and the howling wind, it creaked like something out of a horror film. Although the first flight of steps onto the structure had been cut away, a strategically places piece of rope would have made it accessible, but being on my own, I erred on the side of caution as I didn’t fancy being stuck there, or falling off it, as the chances of being found were probably nil. Ditto the adits, I have very little underground experience, and you really need to know what you’re doing underground, and have the right gear, and ideally be with several other people.

This wild, barren place brought to mind the the South Wales Valleys, and how it must have been in days gone by – crude equipment, minimal infrastructure and remote windswept locations. I don’t envy the men who had to get up here everyday and then go underground for a shift before making their way home again.

Looking up. The shaft has been capped thankfully, otherwise I’d have needed a large telephoto to take this.

The crudeness of the construction can be seen in this photo. Note the rope hanging from the balcony, doubtless this would have afforded access if I’d wanted.

Well worn steps from the office / bath house up to the pit.

‘Thorough’ examinations no less

Locker room

Teeth

One of my two favourite photos from the day. I’ve long thought that headstocks are the most iconic industrial structure, and this image stood out as they seem to be a symbol of strength and resilience over the chaos and decay in the foreground. Just wish I’d been able to compose it more central in the window…..

Just as I was leaving, I noticed amongst the rubble, a reflection of the headstock. Never being one to think twice when I see a reflection, I quickly grabbed a few shots. It’s needed some work on the sky to get the effect I wanted, but it’s one of my favourite industrial photos to date.

#229 – Robert Fletchers Paper Mill – Part 3

The ‘Top Mill’ that we explored is in the background. Here, Azubi is enquiring if it would be at all possible to come in and have a look round.

The light was fading fast now, and we made our way down the footpath down the side of the site, to the driveway back to the cars. Deciding that a few externals were needed, we made a 180 and walked up to the main gate and took a few snaps. Someone decided for a giggle to go and ask security if we could go in for a look round.

Posing as a group of ramblers, we said that we’d noticed this mill on or walk, and wondered if he would let us in. This being Oldham, the security guard was not a native english speaker, so I don’t know whether he even understood us, but the answer was no.

OK, never mind, but thanks anyway.