A Case for Derelict Buildings

I'm going to make a case to you. A case for derelict buildings. Why? Because I love them. They have so many stories to tell. Where I live, there's an abandoned factory, rotting by the side of a railway track. It's not a very nice building. Some derilct buildings are nice. They're libraries, or manor houses, or ornate, imposing police stations. This one is a brick, boxy, monster of a building. But in its own right... it's beautiful. Not for how it looks, but for what is was.

When I see a new build, a fresh, sparkling totem, standing at the centre of a city, it's exciting. It's a place that's about to create memories. A place where people will make mistakes, where people will fall in love, and, where people will (no doubt) trip over in a very undignified fashion when they go down the stairs. New places, like children, are amazing and wonderful and are about to bring so many stories into the world. But with derelict buildings... these are stories long past. The only stories left to be made here are by YouTube vloggers whizzing a drone over, hoping to find some hidden secrets (the more scummy the better) or very-definitely-100% real ghosts. The love I feel for these buildings is being able to wallow in the past, to ponder... what excitement did this building bring in its prime?

I don't jump through a broken window, I don't find an entrance, and I don't fly a drone over to take a look at the bird poo that laces its rooftops. I stand, I stare, and I wonder. As the trains whizz by, taking people to their destinations, to buy birthday cards, go to work, or swish by the amusements - do they consider this building too? It's certainly big enough - how could you not look. But are they thinking about it? Are the commuters looking at this poor old building as an eyesore, a huge, ungainly blot on the landscape. Is it a signifier, a thing that they just 'know' means they're close to their usual station stop. Or is it a proposition? A nice, pure bit of space which given time, and money, would make a nice set of apartments. And wouldn't that be nice. That would be more than nice - fresh, fizzy new memories partying alongside the decades old ones that hum within it's walls. Perhaps it would. But even if it didn't, just passing, for a moment, and wondering, quite simply, what WAS this building, is just as exciting. 

I know it's a factory. That's all I know. Nothing more, nothing less. The joy of derelict buildings is not the big A listers, not the castles, or the manor houses that have become tourist traps, it's the ones that are just left there, but deserve to be thought about. So, let's think, me and you. Humour me here.

This warehouse, by the railway line...

- What was made there? 

- Were they a success? 

- Was it a nice place to work? 

- Did people smile when they walked through the door? 

- Did they need passes? 

- Did the workers clock in and out for their shifts?

- And speaking of shifts, how long were their shifts? 

- Did they get lunch breaks? 

- Was there an on-site canteen? 

- Was the food good?

- What food did the serve? 

- Who served the food? 

- Were they paid well? 

- Were they paid as much as the rest of the staff?

- Were the staff all happy with their pay? 

- Did they get holiday pay? 

- Did they get Christmas off? 

- When was the last Christmas this building experienced? 

- When did it close? 

- Why was it left here? 

- Why wasn't it broken down for bricks and metal and concrete?

Why am I thinking all of this?

Who can say. But it's a lovely thing to think about, to travel back in time, and most of all to wonder, in this factory, by the railway line... Did they make things that made people happy? And if they did, were the people who made them happy? I hope they were, because I know, for just a few moments, escaping from the tracks, the commuters, the noise, standing and thinking, about this buggered old derelict, has put a smile on my face. And if that's not a case for derelicts, for a simple little smile, I don't know what is.

Ryan Croughan is the unfortunate soul who keeps the Minor Spillage ship sailing. Sailing? Probably better to say paddling. As well as producing, he finds time to present and provide voiceovers. He also says he doesn't like the sound of his own voice. Bit odd really.