I love church halls and village halls. I can still recall the mural in the village hall where I grew up in North Somerset, painted in the 1960s with villagers of the time dancing round a may pole.
Today my wife was detained elsewhere with work and I had to take my eldest son to the rehearsal for his first Holy Communion.
While the children were running around the church hall – put any number of 8 year olds together and they will spontaneously play ‘it’ – I climbed the stage and explored. At the rear, a room full of chairs and old fridges. To the side of the stage a toilet marked GENTLEMEN (don’t put your daughter on the stage, Mrs Worthington, for she is sure to get caught short). A ladder. Had to climb the ladder. The ladder took me to a dusty room high above, to one side of the stage. Here was the handle to open and close the curtain. Chalked above it the words “FROM 17/10/69 ONLY 7 TURNS REQUIRED TO CLOSE CURTAIN”.
I know just what you mean. In fact, I was dreaming about a place like that last night. i think it may have been my old school hall or something like that.