There's something about this bulging, crumbling old school that makes it look absolutely sinister. Maybe it's the distorted symmetry and dark discoloration around the damaged area. After all, you just don't expect brick buildings to do this. It made a fascinating subject though. This thing was a quarter of a mile off in a muddy field and I probably would have passed on it this trip if it were not so intriguing. It was though, so I strapped on the boots and slogged out there. The mud was thick, gummy and just the right texture to glom onto anything it contacted. I'm sure my feet each weighed an extra ten pounds as I trudged around on globs of mud as wide as snowshoes. By my third shot I had created, and subsequently shredded a huge blister on my heel. I toughed it out for the rest of the Lemsford shoot, trying my best despite the mud not to further irritate my injury. For the remaining nights of the road trip I hobbled around in loose fitting runners and spent the days driving barefoot.