Tin Chapel

 Recently I've been on a bit of a local chapel rampage, darting off to different parts of my locality to check out these abandoned places of worship. This one is often described as a tin tabernacle but it seems that only the roof is corrugated metal. It sits isolated in a field with a cute fence preventing access to anyone who can't step over things.

Due to it being so isolated, I wasn't expecting to find much on it at all, but I was surprised! The chapel was built on a big estate in 1894 by a "Lady Palmer" to celebrate the return of a "Roger Palmer" from the Crimean War. They also had a stable yard built, but I won't be showing that. The descendants of the Palmers are very much still occupying the estate. It's just the chapel that is ruined. But thanks to the internet, we can see how it used to look.

 

(Photo not mine, obviously)

It's cute. It still had a fence around the perimeter, but it was wooden and had a gate. 

 

The estate was initially occupied by a Reverend named Nathaniel, and his wife Frances. Nathaniel died in 1841, and Frances, now alone with the house, decided to share it with her sisters. Among them was Eleonora. In 1828, at the age of 33 and with a reputation for being a spinster, Eleonora had decided to elope with a controversial man of choice, at least by the standards of toffs in the 1800s. There was nothing undateable about Roger Palmer by today's standards. He just had mental health issues and epilepsy. The two seemingly knew that their love would not be approved, so they had a quick do at Gretna Green, which I was surprised to learn has been popular with eloping couples since 1710. But just to clarify, this was not the same Roger who fought in the Crimean war. Just like any story with a rich family, names get repeated. But controversy aside, Roger and Eleonora ended up taking over the estate in 1845.   

The Palmers are an interesting brood, primarily occupying land in Ireland. Their linage can be dated back to 1629 when a James Palmer was knighted by Charles, Prince of Wales.

Fucking Hell, is old Sausage Fingers really that old??? No, no, it's a different Charles. Nevermind. 

There's still a bell up in the church tower. Judging by the roof, it's probably going to collapse at some point. Hopefully it can be retrieved and preserved once it comes crashing down.

There are hooks in the entrance, where people would have once hung their coats.

But the chapel interior is pretty bleak.

Regarding this branch of the family, Roger and Eleonora had two children, Roger and Ellen. It's this Roger who would fight in the Crimean war. He was born in 1832, and educated at Eton. He took part in the famous battle, the "charge of the light brigade," a full scale assault against Russian forces in Crimea. His survival is impressive given that this battle was a complete disaster. The Russians had more than adequate defences, and made the opposing forces look a bit daft. But the assault was all down to a miscommunication. Lord Raglan had wanted them to assault a different objective, one which they would have been capable of handling. But due to this miscommunication, he sent a load of men to either their messy end or a rather embarrassing retreat. 

 

During the Crimean War, Roger was also credited with capturing a high ranking Russian officer and taking his sword. 

 

His role in this chapel seems to have been quite active. According to a publication, he not only maintained it, but also carried out services and lessons here. 

 

(Photo of Roger not mine, obviously)

 

So who was the lady who had the church built for him? I only have the title "Lady Palmer" to go by, with no first name. Roger's mother died in 1853, so it can't have been her. That leaves us with just two possibilities- Rogers sister Ellen, or his wife Gertrude.

(Photo of Gertrude not mine, obviously)

Gertrude is the most likely candidate. Being married to the man of the house, she was indeed Lady Palmer at some point, but her attentions seemed to be focused more so on the family estate in Ireland, where Gertrude was notorious for her generosity, taking an active interest in using her wealth to help girls from poor backgrounds achieve their dreams. One such girl is the famous Irish opera singer Margaret Burke Sheridan. Gertrude heard her singing at school, and decided that the youngster had what it takes to go all the way. She funded Margaret's education at the London School of Music, and the singer went on to be quite huge. She returned to give Gertrude a performance once she had made a name for herself.

Another story of Gertrude comes from a woman named Jane Boylan. She was a mother of seven children, but when her husband passed away, she lost her house. Gertrude rocked up with a carriage and a donkey, gave it to Jane for free, along with £100, which was a small fortune back then. Jane Boylan was able to get back on her feet, but had it not been for Gertrude her brood would probably have ended up dying on the streets or something.

Gertrude herself would die in 1929, meaning that in all likelihood, this chapel was her creation. She definitely seems like the sort of person who would make a chapel for someone.

Alas, the pews and the altar are long gone, but there are still a few gems remaining. Check out that stained glass window at the back.

I soon realised that the other lady of the estate, Ellen, couldn't possibly be the Lady Palmer in question, because she died relatively young in 1863 after birthing two children.

 

But I'm going to talk about her anyway because what a life she had! Her diaries were discovered in 2012 by her descendants, after she'd hidden them behind some furniture in the billiards room. One source says they were found in 1989, but that source also says that she died at the age of 33 and then says that she died at the age of 34, a mere paragraph later. I'm well accustomed to finding conflicting information, but when there's conflicting information in the same source, and I can look at both sets of conflicting information without even scrolling, then I'm not inclined to rely too heavily on that source.

 

Either way, Ellen's diaries were discovered, offering a fascinating glimpse into the life of a teenage girl in the 1800s. It may have been her sister-in-law who created this chapel, but Ellen certainly deserves more recognition that she gets. She's been described as intelligent, beautiful, strong willed and musically gifted. She trained herself to be athletic and she took part in many male-dominated sports. Due to her fathers failing health, she pretty much ran the estates, both here and in Ireland. And her diaries, which she maintained daily for several years, go into detail about all of it, right down to the diarrhoea she had during a cholera outbreak in Ireland. During this period, every diary entry names someone that she knows who has been reported dead, and bedridden as she was, she says "Between all things, I just about manage to exist." I actually love that line. It deserves to be quoted.

 

(Photo of Ellen not mine, obviously)

Ellen's motivations in life seem to be largely to find love. She's rich so obviously she wanted a socially advantageous marriage, but clashing with convention, she also wanted to marry for love. Little did she realise, a lot of rich people are wankers. In 1848, after dancing with Napoleon, she fell in love with Count Nils de Barck of Sweden, and I'm not sure what exactly happened there. Some sources say that her feelings were not reciprocated and it broke her heart, but a few have said that many warned her what he was like, and that after they ceased involvement with each other, her chances of getting a husband were lessened. 

So it definitely sounds like they fucked, and he ran off after getting his dick wet, but I might be wrong. I've only read extracts of her diaries, but they have been published and I fully intend on buying them, but at the time of writing an ATM has swallowed my bank card, so that will have to wait.

After the incident with Nils de Barck, Ellen was heartbroken and threw herself into her music. With the additional death of her mother and with Roger in Crimea, she was very lonely. A lot of her friends had put distance between them due to her involvement with Nils de Barck, and she wasn't getting invited out anymore. So she did something completely unexpected for a young woman in the 1800s, and set off for Crimea to be with her brother on the frontline. She and her servants traveled in carriages all the way to Crimea, and she is said to have sat at the front with a pistol in her hand for every waking moment of the journey. The frontline of a war was perhaps no place for a woman, at least not in the 1800s, but the embassy was so astonished that she'd made the journey that they permitted her to stay. Her diaries tell of how she dined with her brother in his tent, entertained the likes of Lord Cardigan and Lord Raglan, and she also describes the dead horses that littered the landscape after each battle. But it was because of her insistence on going to Crimea that led her to meet Archibald Peel, the nephew of the Prime Minister Robert Peel. They fell in love and married in 1857. They lived happily ever after, at least until Ellen's unfortunate demise in her early thirties. 

But it can't be said that she didn't make the most out of her short life! Seriously, why isn't there a Disney movie about this woman? Her whole story sounds like a fairy tale.

 

Much to my delight, the chapel still has an old organ here, rotting away.

 

 

It's non-functional, but could it be restored? Why hasn't it been rescued?

 

So, it must have been Gertrude who had the chapel built, and Roger maintained it. Ellen never got to see it, but she did have two daughters, Also Ellen, and Mary. They likely did spend time in this chapel, given that their family owned the land. I did wonder briefly if Mary, who inherited the land, was the "Lady Palmer" in question, but I doubt it. Not only was Roger still alive when the chapel was built, but Mary married into the Fenwick family in 1891, meaning she wouldn't be using her maiden name. 

 Roger passed away in 1910, Mary inherited the estate, even though Gertrude didn't pass away until 1929. Mary's son Roderick later inherited it all. He fought in the first world war and apparently had some pretty horrific scars from shrapnel. 

 

 Roderick trained race horses, including one called Eternal, who came fourth in the 1964 grand national. It's said that in 1964 he left the Irish estate for good in order to spend his last years here. He didn't like dressing up and as such he was often mistaken for the common folk. In all likelihood he did attend this chapel. He owned it, after all. 

The chapel was allegedly still being used long into the late 20th Century, with people still alive today recalling Sunday School, Christmas and Easter services, as well as the Harvest Festival, which was incredibly popular, what with the chapel being surrounded by farming communities. 

It baffles me somewhat, because the estate is still in the hands of Ellen's descendants. I don't understand how or why it's become so neglected.

At the back of the chapel is the remains of a stained glass window.

 

Or at least, I think it's stained glass. It doesn't seem to be of the same quality as the kind seen in larger churches, but it's definitely artistic. Unfortunately some panes are already missing, having been smashed. It's a shame really. I'm not religious, but I still appreciate the artistic effort that goes into such things.

 

But that's about it for this chapel. I would absolutely love to see this place restored. I think the history of the Palmer family is really interesting, with some fantastic characters that I can't help but be a little inspired by, and with my temptation to go to Ireland ever increasing, I have a funny feeling I'll be talking about their family again someday. 

If you plan on visiting this chapel, it's easy to access, but be aware that even farting inside could bring it crashing down. It is cute though. It's a shame it's ust rotting away, and any chapel enthusiasts might want to see it before it's gone for good. Just be respectful. 

My next blogs will be on the travel blog. One is an abandoned house with an utterly cringe-worthy nickname, and then I'll be doing a rooftopping blog from Birmingham. It will be awesome. In the meantime, for regular updates about the blog, I'm active on Instagram, Reddit, and sometimes Facebook and Twitter, so following those is perhaps the best way to see if there are any new blog posts. Although the algorithms suck, so good luck!

Thanks for reading!

The Pastel Chapel

As a few of you will know, I love old mines. They were a long-term ambition on this blog, and I did eventually get to write about some here in Shropshire. Shortly after I did a few more elsewhere. They're very cool, and addictive, so naturally I decided to look for more. It was mapping out local mine shafts that led me to accidentally discovering this disused chapel, likely used by the miners back in the day. I decided to swing by and check it out.

It's really cute inside, but lacking any of its former pews. The central carpet remains, with its adorable "Nans House" vibe.

Over by the remains of the pulpit there are a few more bits left over, which is quite nice. I'm glad it's not just a featureless shell. I'm also weirdly fond of the green and pink pastel colour scheme. It's like being in an old Poppy video. 

While I haven't seen it specified in any official sources, it seems to me that this was likely attended by miners, given that the mine industry was in full swing at the time. In fact in this particular area it was undergoing something of a resurgence, having stopped in 1785, and restarting again first in the 1820s and then in 1862. The local newspaper in June of 1865 told of how the chapels very first foundation stone was laid here, and how there was something of a party to celebrate that this tiny rural area was finally getting a place of worship, with a collection plate being passed around to gather the funds.

Apparently for the occasion they set up a very large tent, borrowed from a chap from Clun. Tea was available for the congregation, which was addressed by a Rev Webster of Congleton. Congleton is out beyond Stoke-on-Trent so it seems a bit unusual that he should be here. Keep in mind, transport in 1865 wasn't what it is today. Today Rev Webster can make the trip in an hour and a half (after you've dug him up, of course), but there wasn't any motorised transport back then. It's a little surprising that someone would make that trip for such a small chapel. In fact, even the chap from Clun had a bit of a trek, and the lady who laid the first foundation stone came from somewhere near Bridgnorth. 

 

Nevertheless, the event allegedly attracted three hundred people. That might not sound like much, but it definitely looks like it exceeds the chapels capacity. More people showed up to celebrate its construction than could ever possibly fit inside it. Also worth noting is that according to the 2011 census, the local area surrounding the chapel only had a population of 76. What's going on?

I know there's a huge space of time between 1865 and 2011, but could the population have seen such a staggering reduction? All these fleshbags talk about is shooting their DNA into each other.

 

So how the Hell (sorry, God) was the ceremonious laying of a foundation stone for a tiny rural chapel such a people magnet? It was clearly in high demand, and the only reason that sounds even remotely logical is the abundance of mines in the area at the time. But that's just my theory.

Despite the majority of the chapel being cleared out, this little beauty is still here, making the chapel not entirely featureless.

 

But it seems the chapel is a shadow of its former self. Despite its small size and rural location, the local rag spoke very fondly of it throughout the 1860s, expressing how happy everyone was that they finally had a substantial chapel, for just a measly £180. But don't get too excited. According to the Bank of England, that was the equivalent of nearly £17,900 back in 1865. 

 

I was initially confused when the local papers said that this is the only chapel in the area, given that there is a tin tabernacle just up the road, and it shows up on OS maps from the 1890s, but some quick digging confirmed that it had only gone up in the 1880s, after the article praising this chapel had been published. The tin one is still being used today, albeit sparingly, and it's surprisingly pretty inside. But I bet it didn't have such a great construction party!

Up above what was once the pulpit are the words "Reverence my sanctuary." 

Religious places are, shall we say, ironic in their slogans. The ones that say "God Loves" slay me, given that in the bible he actually does very little of that. Here the irony is a little more on the nose, given that this sanctuary has not been revered in some time. 

The poster has one of those classic Jesus slogans. We get it, he's better than us. Can we move on now?

These cushions have sat here for so long that cobwebs have grown between them.

I don't have an exact date of closure for the chapel, but it was said to be open in 2000 and closed in 2012. This toilet paper is dated 2001, which certainly seems to indicate that this was the year that the chapel was last used, although we can't be certain.

I did read that all of the tiny chapels in this area had their own little church camps, often consisting of camp-themed worship in a field, with music, and snacks. This chapel was apparently one of the few in the area to retain its bible camp into the late 20th Century, after many others in the area stopped happening, which is kinda wholesome, if you like bible camp.

Now onto my kind of wholesome!

There's a door in the ground! How exciting! I sure hope "Reverence my sanctuary" includes having an erection.

I lifted the door aside and decided to have a peek.

It's nothing too exciting, unfortunately. It's a cellar built into the buildings foundation, and it's basically a crawlspace. I wasn't about to go down there, nor did I need to, given that I could see it all just by hanging my head over and shining a torch around. Had anyone walked into the chapel at that moment, they would have just seen my arse up in the air with my head in the ground, like a hot satanic ostrich.

Over by the wall appears to be some wooden steps, which is interesting. The pulpit platform has steps on the right but not on the left. Presumably at some point it was symmetrical, but the stairs on one side were taken off and thrown down here. 

Back to the surface!

There's an old hymn sheet here. Personally I find hymn music to be quite lifeless and dull. Are people really celebrating their faith this way? Would they not get into Heaven if it was a little more upbeat?

And aside from Spider-Zilla over here, I think that's about it.

After its closure there were plans to convert the small chapel into a house. It's presumably during this time that the pews were removed in preparation. But then planning permission was denied, allegedly due to the local drains already working at full capacity, and not wanting an additional human residence to clog the pipes. From that point on, the chapel seems to have fallen into ambition limbo, with the clearing out paused, and the work never to be done.

 

This place made for a cute excursion. In spite of the lack of pews, I still liked it. And with it being something I found by accident, that makes it a bit more gratifying. I don't know why people in the urbex scene beg for locations when finding them brings about its own rewards. I was looking for mines, and I found this little gem. I call that a win. It's just a shame that it's now gathering dust and slowly rotting away. It would be nice to see it restored and given new life, and it's not exactly in a dire state of dereliction, so that is a realistic possibility.

That's all I've got. I'll be focusing my attention on the international blog for a bit, talking about an abandoned pottery death trap, and some sort of college building that I think has more of a story to it than I initially thought. That should be fun to research! In the meantime, follow me on various social media platforms. I'm most active on Instagram, but I also post on Reddit, and Twitter, and because I just love self harm, Facebook. 

Thanks for reading!

Another ROC bunker

If you live in the UK, there's a good chance that you live within 10km of one of these lovely Cold War relics. This is a nuclear monitoring post that was manned by the Royal Observer Corps back when nuclear war was considered a very real possibility. Initially the Royal Observer Corps, or ROC, were tasked with spotting and reporting enemy aircraft from special monitoring posts in the countryside.

But as the Cold War took off, the ROC facilities moved underground, and their duties changed to monitoring for nuclear weapons. To this end, 1,563 subterranean bunkers were established all over the country, each one filled with equipment designed to monitor for nuclear blasts and communicate the findings across a wider network so that appropriate action could be taken. 

 

The ROC bunkers were also equipped to keep their staff safe, and if there's an urbex comment bingo then "We might need these soon," should be on it because ever since Russia invaded Ukraine, every time someone posts one of these bunkers, someone comments that underneath.

 

Needless to say, after all these years anyone who thinks a ROC bunker will provide adequate protection against nuclear strikes today is deluded, and we could honestly do without you in a post-apocalypse society, but stick around anyway so that we've got something to eat, yeah? 

 

Here's a diagram of a ROC post being used. It's not my picture, obviously, but ROC bunkers were built mostly identical, so it's an accurate depiction of what this one would have looked like back when it was active. As you can see, it's pretty tiny, but built to be lived in if there was a crisis. If you want to imagine hell, imagine being stationed down here with your most annoying work colleague in the event of a nuclear strike. 

 

Just take a deep breath and remind yourself that you'll need something to eat when the rations run out.

 

The ROC bunkers were built in 1963, but most of them were decommissioned in 1968. A few were retained until 1991, including this one. At that point, what happened to them seems to vary from place to place. Some were sealed up, perfectly preserved. Some were left open and vandalised. Some were flat out demolished. The aim of visiting ROC bunkers is to find one that's accessible and in good condition. They do exist. I've blogged about a few now. But there is an online database that says where they all are, which means they aren't secret. The admittedly noble intention of documenting these places on the internet has proven to be their downfall. For urbex purposes, it's handy to have a database that says where they are, but it's woefully out of date, so traveling out these is still a gamble. One of my favourite local ones recently had a boulder cemented over the access hatch. 

So I personally don't travel out solely for ROC bunkers. But this hobby gets me out and about, so if I'm ever in the proximity of one, I will swing by to check it out.

As you can see, the hatch was no longer attached to this one, and the exterior features are pretty run down. Surely only an idiot would climb down this ladder, right?

Whoopsie!

Remember folks, it wasn't the bunker that killed those kids in "The Hole." It was falling in love. Avoid that and you'll be fine.

At the bottom of the ladder, as expected, is the pump for removing waste water. In the majority that I've seen, the pump handle has been wooden, but at some point this one was replaced with a metal one.

The room itself is in a pretty sorry state. The shelves at the back are original, and on the floor there is a crate that would have contained a handheld warning siren to be used to alert the public in an attack. The old telecom boxes are still on the wall, but apart from that, it's just full of junk.

The desk, chairs and bed are gone, but what we do have is what appears to be a squatters nest.

All over the walls are sheets with pictures of big cats on them, presumably hung up by the squatter for decoration. 

In all fairness, squatting in a bunker does sound like a pretty fun wild camping experience.

Here are the remains of the telecom equipment. The majority of it would have been cleared out when the monitoring post closed in 1991.

There's a sheep skull here.

And back over by the ladder is the rest of the sheep. It looks like the sheep fell down the hatch and died, likely of starvation. What a horrible way to go.

But the hatch is on a raised platform so it's hard to imagine how a sheep would get into this predicament on its own. It all seems very ominous. I presume it was after the squatter vacated. 

 

Imagine camping in one of these things and then suddenly a terrified sheep comes plummeting down the hatch. That would certainly make the experience memorable.

At the back of the ROC bunker is a little air vent that leads up to one of the ROC bunkers external features. In this case, the external part of the vent has been pretty badly damaged.

So that's the ROC bunker. By modern standards they probably don't look like much, but they are echoes of a very different time in human history, when nuclear weapons were new, and the world leaders asses were clenched so tight that when they farted, only dogs could hear it. I think they're important relics of the past, and while it's not unheard of that some are fixed up and restored, it's still a shame when others are left to rot. Perhaps their derelict condition is symbolic of how we take our safety for granted today, or how quick we are to forget the efforts made to keep us safe once the threat is over. 

 

Whatever the case, what kind of person just lets these get into such a bad condition? If I had land which just happened to have a ROC bunker on it, I'd build a shed over the top of it, so that the casual observer thinks the bunker has gone, and then I'd make it into the ultimate mancave.

As far as urbex goes, ROC bunkers are great for beginners, because they're everywhere. So many people getting into urbex will ask "Are there any abandoned places in Whatevershire?" Yes, Timmy, there's one of these. Also, how is it 2023 and people still don't know about Google?

The more experienced urbexer is better off checking these out if they happen to be in the area, because there's really very little point in traveling far just for one of these. I really like them though. I like the fact that I never know what to expect. It makes it more of a surprise when I find one in good shape. I also find the cold war to be a very fascinating era in human history, so these are appealing for that reason too.

My next blog will be a chapel, and then I'll be back on my international blog for a huge factory death trap thing. In the meantime, to make sure you always get updates, follow me on the algorithmic hellscapes that are Instagram, Reddit, Facebook and Twitter. I'm possibly one of the few users on Instagram that's an actual human being, so that's a novelty. 

Thanks for reading!