Dronfield’s medieval Hall Barn has officially opened to the excitement of nobody I know, or their friends, or anyone else in Dronfield worth knowing. It’s supposed to be a new centre for heritage and culture, which I’m not sure I or anyone wanted, especially when The Green Dragon seems to fit that role so perfectly already.
The building dates back to 1430, or back when your mum was fit, and has undergone a radical transformation, kind of like the barn equivalent of Bruce Jenner to Caitlyn Jenner, from a run-down dusty barn to a run-of-the-mill dusty barn with funds by The Heritage Lottery Fund.
I don’t think I understand the purpose of the Dronfield Hall Barn. I get that it’s a nice barn and all, but we’ve got a Civic Hall which hemorrhages funds thanks to mismanagement by the Town Council. To what end will a fancy Barn serve?
The opening weekend’s celebrations left a lot to be desired, unless your idea of celebrating is not having fun, stood next to a recently renovated barn. Which usually isn’t me, not unless my dealer has started selling Ambien again.
On Friday there was some moody art-show nobody cared about. On Saturday there was a choir nobody cared about. Both laughably dull until you see Sunday’s entertainment: Dronfield Ladies Recorder Ensemble.
When I first read it I actually said, “Are you fucking kidding me?” A ladies recorder ensemble, which by it’s definition means more than one lady with a recorder. It transpires that Dronfield Ladies Recorder Ensemble is actually a thing: a group of women presumably too old to play the recorder, playing the recorder in a group. What a depressing indictment of small town life. A fucking recorder ensemble.
If you look at the events listings for the Barn, you’ll see all the events for busy-bodies and professional bores: How To Paint Stems and Berries, How to Paint Petals and Create Composition and a Glass Workshop. From £18 to £30. And that’s the killer blow, if you were struggling to realise how the Barn might be relevant to you, it simply isn’t for you.
The Dronfield Hall Barn is for the classic set of selfish townsfolk who cater to and for themselves entirely. The people who unaccountably book up the Peel Centre, or judge on the Dronfield In Bloom panel, or lobby the council to deny your planning application, or block any plans to which would benefit young people. Busybodies. I call them cunts, but you’re equally welcome to call them wankers.
If it were up to me, I’d level the Dronfield Hall Barn and replace it with something for the young people of Dronfield. Something that would be used by more than a handful of busy-bodying geriatrics two moons shy of end-stage Alzheimer’s.
Dronfield Hall Barn is just another example of the complacency of the town elders, the disgustingly incompetent Council and the ignorance of the townsfolk. We must provide better services for young people, and pander less to those looking to please themselves at the expense of everyone else.