Dalrymple recently visited a beautiful old church, only to find it ruined:
There were several stacks [of] modern red-seated, metalled-framed chairs piled in the nave; horrible, crudely-coloured notices had been posted everywhere; many dreadful modern cloth hangings, as horribly designed as they were badly executed, were suspended from every pillar. On every step had been affixed with sellotape a warning to mind the step, health and safety long since having replaced faith and hope in the doctrine of the C of E.
Worst of all was a partition erected in the north aisle that would not have been out of place at Stansted Airport, being of grey glass and stainless steel. Inside the partition was a kitchenette, no doubt to provide communicants with a nice cup of tea after services. It was worst because, unlike the notices, the hangings or the piles of chairs, it was intended as a permanent fixture, the twentieth or twenty-first century’s contribution to church architecture.
Pingback: The Kitchenette of England | A dose of Theodore Dalrymple