Here I am then, sitting in a large oak throne on the cancel of a deserted church, facing the nave and the empty body of the church. In front of me, rather than pews, a bronze container full of faux entrails, and a small low plinth with five colourful sandcastles. I have been here for 22 hours, and shortly before that i was here for 20 hours, I will get to go home briefly in another 18 hours. It is easter and everything has gone quiet.
The experience of being locked alone in a large building, unable to leave, is odd, something that I have never experienced before, strangely pleasant.
It isnt like waiting, there is enough of an expanse of time ahead of me to relax into familiarity with my surroundings. No it is more like being in a very large, cavernous bedsit, the familiar furniture replaced by a pulpit and a few memorials. It is I imagine like being a lighthouse keeper without the stairs or maybe like a really long haul flight on a deserted plane - it feels like strange time, endlessly shifting without a definitive purpose other than being present.
It feels a little bit like going mildly mad, left alone with your inner voice without the everyday interuptions that conveniently prevent too long a discussion.
It feels like being a ghost, haunting a church with no congregation. My timing is completely messed up, I sleep when i need to, wake and occupy myself almost entirely by thinking, yet there is not a conclusion anywhere in sight. Perhaps then it is more like being an anchorite on retreat and will in some way have its own benefits, perhaps even revelations. The most fitting simile is that of being in the gameshow 'big brother' with no other contestants, no audience and no prize, just like big brother it is also very tricky to figure out exactly how or why this is happening at all.