Definitely urban. Definitely decaying. But actively used with hundreds of occupants:
Repairing Parliament: Of mice and MPs | The Economist
Quote:
|
Gutters collect smelly pigeon carcasses half-chewed by the peregrine falcons that nest there. Three years ago a rooftop water tank collapsed, flooding the corridor below and drenching valuable paintings. The stonework looks more medieval than Victorian, so worn is it. To the north, the clock tower popularly known as Big Ben leans by nearly nine inches (22cm), rattled out of place by the Jubilee Line running beneath.
|
Quote:
Many of the biggest problems lie under the surface. The palace has 444 miles (715km) of wires and about 17 miles of pipes, many in the enormous basement. The wiring was installed bit by bit, and it shows. Masses of lines carrying electricity, division announcements, phone calls and broadcast feeds (plus a dusting of asbestos) are slung from water and air trunks like creepers along the branches of a tree. “I’ve been chasing them for two years,” groans one workman in a hard hat, ducking under a tangle. Some are almost completely inaccessible, impeding repairs. A fury of 1950s telephone wires pinned to one corridor wall remains a mystery to engineers. Some, they reckon, connect lost speakers in one part of the building with lost receivers in another. Revamping the lot will be a mammoth task.
The lack of maps will make it even bigger. No original drawings by Charles Barry, who designed the 1,100-room palace after the fire in 1834, survive. The authorities are constantly adding to their plans as new chambers and vents are discovered. Some cavities turn out to house families of mice, for whom the building is a perfect home (by the river, with warm nooks and lots of food sitting around). Others hide treasures. Under one flagstone, workers recently discovered remains of the bench at which Londoners stood to petition kings nearly a millennium ago.
|
No photos though.