I've never seen so many unused churches as I have this year in Scotland. My own, tiny as it is, is actually the conglomeration of several congregations; I have no idea what became of the others, but something tells me their buildings, if they still stand, are being used as museums, theaters, cafes, or possibly nightclubs.
Yes, Faith, I'm glaring at you. Frankenstein's, as much as I love it, is bad enough, but calling a nightclub "Faith"? A stink was raised back home when one church wanted to sell its building to a Muslim community; I can only imagine what the protesters would say about this.
Anyway, possibly the strangest ex-church I've seen to date is the upstairs portion of the Forest, which I had heard existed but had not actually seen until last night. It looks like a cross between an abandoned building and Mardi Gras. Yes, the paint is peeling, the carpet is worn, and the windows are either boarded up or covered in tinfoil, but there are Christmas lights draped over the pulpit and a bar softly glowing in blue at the back of the room. One of the clocks in the balcony is still functional, and once you get on the stage, you realize the pipe organ is still up there. I've never tried to blend cabaret seating and church, nor would Billy Liar's punk set have flown were the building still being used for its intended purpose, but as performance spaces go, this one's unique.
With my final Golden Hour yesterday, it all really hit me that this is the beginning of the end. Our first floormate to leave departed in the afternoon. We have a last hurrah planned after the dissertations are handed in next Friday, and I'll be doing a final batch of proofreading for folks in the week leading up to it. My room is half-packed.
Twelve days left, and where did this year go?
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