Grindle
I travel alone. Wanderlust
In the town of Dessau, Saxony-Anhalt, there be an old disused crematorium, that was pretty high on my list of buildings to get into.
Stage 1 Complete, into the grounds without too much hassle, now we just need to find a window or a door
Stage 2 Looking like a fail. Both accessible front and side doors, were not accessible, solidly bricked and concreted up, pretty cool piece of art work though
Wandering around the building, I seemed to be under scrutiny from some guy taking a fag break at a neighbouring small row of shops. That is bad for your health, get back to work.
Thing is just act as though you should be there, don't look shifty, otherwise these types may just call plod. let's hope he is a quick smoker
Constructed in 1910 and in use until the mid 1980's, it is believed to have burnt nigh on 100'000 corpses, in one of its twin ovens.
It is now a protected historical building.
Please let me get in.
Pretty please, I prayed to the Goddess Kali, as around the building I searched.
It seemed like every window was either bricked up or protected with steel bars, I was deflated, fed up, pissed off.
OH MY DAYS!
My little soldier sprang to attention; to be honest I haven't been as excited as this since I found a couple of Readers Wives jazz mags in a Cheshire farm about 3 years ago. Memorable.
Sticking my head through there was only about a 5-6 ft drop the other side, that's doable. Worry about getting out when the time comes.
C'mon
Let's mooch
In places it was dark
In places it was dusty
It was atmospheric
Underground it was huge, it was sprawling.
It was like a maze, corridors running off, some leading to tightly locked doors, stairs going up to bricked up doorways, but there was enough to occupy me.
Once the great and the good have said their goodbyes and the curtain closes, the coffin was mechanically lowered into the basement, coming to rest on a wheeled bogie, ( an interesting feature which didn't come out was the floor mounted turntable and tracks, which would send the coffin to the right oven, clever thinking batman, as the bogies have fixed wheels. It's all about manual handling and reducing the risk of injury).
You go in.......
The men twiddle with their knobs....
And you come out, Bobs your Uncle, Fanny is your Aunt.
Alas I couldn't locate the bone mill, used to finish off the big chunks.
Eventually found a staircase the took me away from the business end of things into the arena
At one time no doubt kitted out with an altar and stuff
and maybe grand chandeliers suspended from the roof apertures?
I guess the posh people watched the proceedings from the balcony? Or maybe a choir sang the cadaver off to the flames, I guess in the good old days they didn't have MP3 players, or whatever they are called these days spewing out some favourite tune.
Apparently My Way by Frank Sinatra is the most popular choice in the UK.
I think I might go for Disco Inferno by the Trammps, or maybe Firestarter by the Prodigy. I don't do slushy stuff.
So that was that, I managed to find an old crate to stand on and scramble back out, God knows how many Germans now reside in my body, as when I blew my nose it was quite dusty and mucky.
Don't fear the Reaper.
Stage 1 Complete, into the grounds without too much hassle, now we just need to find a window or a door
Stage 2 Looking like a fail. Both accessible front and side doors, were not accessible, solidly bricked and concreted up, pretty cool piece of art work though
Wandering around the building, I seemed to be under scrutiny from some guy taking a fag break at a neighbouring small row of shops. That is bad for your health, get back to work.
Thing is just act as though you should be there, don't look shifty, otherwise these types may just call plod. let's hope he is a quick smoker
Constructed in 1910 and in use until the mid 1980's, it is believed to have burnt nigh on 100'000 corpses, in one of its twin ovens.
It is now a protected historical building.
Please let me get in.
Pretty please, I prayed to the Goddess Kali, as around the building I searched.
It seemed like every window was either bricked up or protected with steel bars, I was deflated, fed up, pissed off.
OH MY DAYS!
My little soldier sprang to attention; to be honest I haven't been as excited as this since I found a couple of Readers Wives jazz mags in a Cheshire farm about 3 years ago. Memorable.
Sticking my head through there was only about a 5-6 ft drop the other side, that's doable. Worry about getting out when the time comes.
C'mon
Let's mooch
In places it was dark
In places it was dusty
It was atmospheric
Underground it was huge, it was sprawling.
It was like a maze, corridors running off, some leading to tightly locked doors, stairs going up to bricked up doorways, but there was enough to occupy me.
Once the great and the good have said their goodbyes and the curtain closes, the coffin was mechanically lowered into the basement, coming to rest on a wheeled bogie, ( an interesting feature which didn't come out was the floor mounted turntable and tracks, which would send the coffin to the right oven, clever thinking batman, as the bogies have fixed wheels. It's all about manual handling and reducing the risk of injury).
You go in.......
The men twiddle with their knobs....
And you come out, Bobs your Uncle, Fanny is your Aunt.
Alas I couldn't locate the bone mill, used to finish off the big chunks.
Eventually found a staircase the took me away from the business end of things into the arena
At one time no doubt kitted out with an altar and stuff
and maybe grand chandeliers suspended from the roof apertures?
I guess the posh people watched the proceedings from the balcony? Or maybe a choir sang the cadaver off to the flames, I guess in the good old days they didn't have MP3 players, or whatever they are called these days spewing out some favourite tune.
Apparently My Way by Frank Sinatra is the most popular choice in the UK.
I think I might go for Disco Inferno by the Trammps, or maybe Firestarter by the Prodigy. I don't do slushy stuff.
So that was that, I managed to find an old crate to stand on and scramble back out, God knows how many Germans now reside in my body, as when I blew my nose it was quite dusty and mucky.
Don't fear the Reaper.
