Irrlicht Gym

Lanterns hang from every beam of the tarred timber hall, dozens of them in tin, horn, glass and punched copper, and no two of them alike. Each one throws its own small pattern of amber light across walls darkened by peat smoke and fen damp. Standing on stilts over open water, the hall has a battle floor of bare planking, and black water shows and moves between the boards. Two rows of heavy posts carry the roof, their feet dark with wet, their tops lost among the rafters and the underside of the reed thatch. Raised galleries of rough plank run along both long walls, with iron hooks on the rails where still more lanterns can be hung. Narrow windows give onto fog, and at the far end a wide door opens straight onto a landing stage and the dark fen. Warm light above and cold water below meet in every gap of the floor, and the smell of peat smoke never leaves the planking.