Inside Bangor’s Abandoned Nightclub — Hidden Rooms Discovered Frozen in Time After Years of Being Left Behind
A Victorian Building with Three Forgotten Lives
In the heart of Bangor, North Wales, stands a Victorian building constructed in 1909.
From the outside, it blends quietly into the city.
But inside, it tells a story layered across more than a century.
This building did not live just one life.
It lived three.
.
.
.
It began as Bangor’s main post office, a place of routine, communication, and government order.
Decades later, it transformed again—this time into a dentist’s surgery, fitted with modern equipment and clinical rooms.
And finally, in its last chapter, it became a nightclub—a loud, chaotic centerpiece of student nightlife known as Revive, until it abruptly closed in 2013.
What makes this place extraordinary is not what it was…
but how it was left.
The Nightclub: Frozen in 2013
Stepping through the overgrown entrance, the nightclub reveals itself almost instantly.
Bars remain intact.
DJ booths still stand beneath collapsed ceilings.
Lighting rigs hang motionless, thick with cobwebs.
Tills, mirrors, seating areas, signage—everything sits where it was last used.
The dance floor is silent now.
Water drips through broken skylights.
Black mold creeps up marble bar fronts.
Nothing here was carefully dismantled.
Nothing was cleared out.
It feels as if the doors were locked one night…
and never opened again.
Behind the Walls: Something That Shouldn’t Be Here
Hidden behind damaged walls and sealed corridors, the atmosphere suddenly changes.
The decay looks older.
The paint peels differently.
The air feels heavier.
And then, without warning, the nightclub gives way to something completely unexpected.
A dentist’s surgery.
Dental chairs still sit in position.
Screens, spit bowls, instruments, storage units—left untouched.
Thousands of pounds’ worth of medical equipment abandoned without explanation.
The rooms are quiet.
Clinical.
Disturbingly intact.
Outside, traffic passes by—people completely unaware that a fully equipped dental practice sits forgotten just meters away, sealed in darkness.
Descending Further Back in Time
Beyond the surgery, the building reveals its oldest layer.
Corridors widen.
Ceilings drop.
False panels hide something beneath.
This is the original post office.
Victorian tilework, parquet flooring, curved architectural details—once beautiful, now buried under magnolia paint and cheap office carpeting.
Drop ceilings conceal ornate covings.
Standard blue office tiles cover handcrafted wood floors.
Paperwork remains scattered across desks.
Payroll documents, health and safety files, CDs, telephones—all left behind.
Even tins of food sit rusted open, dissolved by decades of moisture.
Dates appear.
2005.
2000.
This part of the building has been abandoned for over 25 years.
Signs of Life… and Questions
Upstairs, the lines blur even further.
Staff rooms.
Bathrooms.
Shower units.
Curtains still hanging.
Some rooms feel like offices.
Others feel unsettlingly domestic—as if someone once lived here.
Dead birds litter the floors.
Plants grow through walls.
Mold stains spread like fingerprints across time.
Was part of the building occupied longer than the rest?
Were sections closed off while others remained in use?
The decay tells a story—but not a clear one.
Three Eras. One Building. No Answers.
From post office…
to dentist surgery…
to nightclub…
This building wasn’t abandoned once.
It was abandoned in stages.
Each floor, each corridor, each sealed room belongs to a different era—preserved not by intention, but by neglect.
In the middle of a busy university city, this place has been quietly rotting, unseen, holding onto its past.
No notices.
No explanations.
Just silence.
Some buildings don’t simply fall into ruin.
They become time capsules—
waiting to be rediscovered.
