‘Miner’s Institute’ it claimed. I shuddered as I remembered past times from 1980 of those sticky carpets… and ‘Working Men’s Clubs’.
My friends had systematically gone from playing football in the fields to mindless alcoholics as they passed the magical age of eighteen, the legal age to get pissed every day.
I couldn’t fathom what the attraction was of entering these slop-filled holes where the only intention was to get legless, followed by passing out.
Was it just me who didn’t want to consume ‘Eight pints every day’ and have a massive hangover the next morning? Getting pissed on Cider at the age of seventeen was enough for me, and I haven’t touched the loopy juice since.
So… you can imagine looking up at this historic building didn’t hold any fond memories for me as I know, though experience that anything with the word ‘Miner’s’ means staggering blokes (no women allowed in these places), barf on the floor, pint glasses and compromised beer mixed with water.
Built in 1914, the Miners Institute in Parkgate was funded largely by miners themselves to serve as a social, educational, and welfare centre for the local coal mining community.
Over the past decade, it has been vacant and derelict, with reports dating back to 2020 noting deterioration, vandalism, and pigeon infestation in the large upper hall. – Source
The side street provided us a window of opportunity, literally, with the window being absent.
It was an awkward climb due to my non-flexible limbs as well as a motorist who pulled into the side street with me precariously half hanging out..., but he gave me some encouragement, ultimately deciding we were not mindless criminals intent on stealing the copious amounts of valuable dirt and cobwebs that were certain to be in abundance inside.
Inside was what I would have expected, and it did include some broken chairs and tables. Maybe there could be more to this than piles of shit?
I have little doubts ‘Miner’s Institute’ has been a Working Man’s club once, but these photographs plastered on a board tell me that more recently it’s been used for more family-oriented uses.
Quite a reasonable staircase, and even a bannister. I take care not to touch these as they tend to collapse like a bunch of matchsticks. We ascended...
Switching the light was a fruitless endeavour. This rust-encrusted former electronic switch could potentially kill if touched.
I am not confused about being ‘gay’ or ‘lesbian’, but sound advice is available within the ‘Miner’s Institute’. All you must do is climb through the window to alleviate your fears and worries.
The ‘business desk’ has been given a new lease of life as a base to cook some hard drugs and lie down on the cold, hard floor to enjoy the subsequent ride.
Without the benefits of a ‘massive light’ such as the one I carry around, you can’t take in the eye-watering delights as the smack kicks in as you mindlessly drop to the floor in a stupor.
All will be dark, and the anaesthetic side effects will mask the hard, pigeon shit-encrusted floor that you are lying on.
A haven for those who delight in lightless heavy sessions, and with a temporarily limited sense of smell.
The posters stuck on the wall suggest an audience of teenagers…, with the scrawling created by the same teenagers? Can you see now why this type of propaganda is vital to our Generation-Z youths?
Whilst the ‘Miner’s Institute’ did contain some items, they were not particularly interesting.
Is this a guide to sex for novices, section 3 being… ‘you need to be 16 to read this stuff’?
Youth counselling and ‘sexwise’… I knew it. You come here for lessons in shagging and fornication. It was slowly all making sense in my mind.
For a practical example, a good, solid floor that is free of bacteria is essential.
… along with images of ‘Freddie Mercury’ lookalikes with bare chests holding weapons close to their genitals.
Some good advice, always wear a rubber and clear away those needles from the table before you drop your pants.
A holey roof: we can say goodbye to the interior of the ‘Miner’s Institute’ within a few years if that’s not dealt with.
Some nice, decadent tiling on the roof, in the parts where there is a roof.
@anidiotexplores descends and focuses intently on the ‘Twister’ bag with colourful circles. Such was the quality of offers thrown to us within the ‘Miner’s Institute’.
Escaping through the window proved more difficult than entering. There was a wheelie bin close by, but I know better than to trust those plastic deathtraps on wheels.
It’s always better to leave with your arse first poking out. That's the voice of experience talking.
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