I love this little patch of agricultural countryside between Cromer and North Walsham, set slightly inland from the fearsome north-east coast. With the obvious exception of the colossal gas terminal at Bacton, it is largely unspoilt and reassuringly unchanging.
Knapton
One of the churches where I spent a good deal of my teenage holidays bellringing was St Peter and St Paul, Knapton. That was in the late 1990s, and, for the first time in over 20 years, it was special to meet up with ringer Andrew Lubbock. Andrew is born and bred Knapton. A great walker, he lives and breathes this part of Norfolk. What he doesn’t know about it is simply not worth knowing.
Knapton’s glory is its double-hammerbeam roof, dated 1504, replete with 138 angels. (Or 160, says Andrew, if you include the standing ones.) Is it the best of Norfolk’s splendid roofs? It’s my favourite, because, unlike Salle or Swaffham or Cawston, the angels don’t feel very far away. You don’t have to crane your neck. We were joined, briefly, by churchwarden Allison. ‘How wonderful,’ I said, ‘it must be to worship surrounded by so many angels.’ Of course, we are always surrounded by angels innumerable when we worship, but their representations in Knapton are a glorious reminder of this unseen company.
Knapton's roof
If you can stop staring at the ceiling, the next thing to catch the attention is the font. It’s a fairly standard Purbeck, square bowl, thirteenth century, raised later on massive flushwork steps, but crowned with a very cheerful cover of 1704. Mortlock likens it to ‘a miniature seaside bandstand’. Its bears a Greek palindrome, which translates: ‘Wash my sins and not my face only.’ Wouldn’t it be fun if a baby, baptised with the name of humankind’s first parent, could exclaim to his mother as he is handed back to her arms, ‘Madam, I’m Adam.’
Andrew had kindly brought the key to the tower with him, and, it being a fine morning, we climbed the series of four or five ladders through ringing chamber, clock room and belfry to the tower’s summit. It is not, in Norfolk terms, a tall tower, but it sits on a mound sufficiently inland to get stunning panoramic views. The churches of Swafield, Southrepps, Trunch, Mundesley, Bacton, Walcott and Happisburgh were all immediately visible, to name but a few. Stretching beyond Bacton gas terminal, with ships dotting the horizon, is the North Sea. We are only a few miles north of Tuesday's walk.
The view from Knapton's tower
I was joined by my father-in-law for this walk. He’s with me again tomorrow, so more about him then. We had the pleasure of Andrew’s company - and the benefit of his knowledge - as we walked through the fields to Edingthorpe. On the way, we crossed the disused railway line, and passed Knapton Station. A bit like a Norfolk church, it was buit far too big for the village. It looks like an urban railway station dumped in the Norfolk countryside.
Edingthorpe
All Saints, Edingthorpe enjoys an idyllic setting, rising above gently undulating countryside. It is, perhaps, the quintessential Norfolk small church: round tower, thatched roof, superb wall paintings, and gorgeous rood screen. The images on the screen are relatively unharmed, as is St Christopher on the north wall; perhaps the iconoclasts didn't realise this church was here. Edingthorpe has an air of timelessness, as if it has always been here and always will be.
Today it was, relatively speaking, a hive of activity, as people prepared for a wedding tomorrow. A flower arranger was creating a stunning pedestal arrangement, and there was coming-and-going from various helpers and villagers. What a very beautiful place to be married.
Wall painting, Edingthorpe
There is a delightful and commendable modern innovation here. In each pew is a little laminated card entitled ‘A Guide to our Worship’, with some simple explanations of what to expect, and an invitation to join in. It couldn't be more welcoming.
Andrew left us to return home as we made our way to St Andrew, Bacton. I did this exact walk in March 2023, and remembered not enjoying this church. I had an open mind today, but had the same feeling. There are some churches which one wants to linger in for as long as possible. There are others where the opposite is true; this is one of them. I can’t put my finger on why. It’s perfectly welcoming, and feels used and friendly. Perhaps it’s the gas terminal, looming in the background, which makes it feel strangely lonely.
Bacton
But there is still much to see here. The tower is part of the line of coastal sentinels with Walcott and Happisburgh, and has splendid large low-level figure niches. In the chancel is a stone angel who once occupied one of them. The nave is a homage to hassocks, proudly displayed on the pew desks. I hope people here aren’t so proud of them that they won’t put them on the floor and kneel on them!
At the back of the church is a photograph and explanation dating, I would guess, from the 1960s. It’s of James Capes, who trained himself to chime all five of Bacton’s bells simultaneously. The photo shows him with ropes attached to both feet and both hands, and, presumably of the lightest bell, to his elbow.
Interior, Bacton
There is a network of ‘quiet lanes’ in these parts, and today’s route was ostensibly the Paston circular walk plus Knapton. Paston Hall was home to the Paston family of the Paston Letters fame. This a collection of family correspondence from the fifteenth to seventeenth centuries, giving an almost soap-opera-esque insight into the life of Norfolk gentry: a cross between The Archers and Made in Chelsea.
Close to the Hall is St Margaret, Paston. Like Edingthorpe, it has excellent wall-paintings, including St Christopher and, above the chancel arch, a recently-discovered censing angel, the date of which has been ascertained by his distinctive hair-do. In the chancel are Paston family monuments, including a particularly lavish memorial of 1628 to Dame Katherine Paston.
Inside, Paston
When I came here in March last year, they were just finishing a major project to restore and conserve the wall paintings, and make the building more flexible and user-friendly. This has involved moving and removing some pews, and relocating the font to the centre of the nave, thus creating an open, flexible space at the west end of the nave, with kitchen and loo facilities against the west wall. It has all been done superbly, enhancing the character of this special church.
Paston
This project, partly sponsored by the Heritage Lottery Fund, includes new activities, discovery trails, and signage. While we were there we were joined by a couple of cyclists from Lancashire. The church gets a lot of visitors judging from the visitors’ book, and so it should.
Three of today’s four churches had thatched roofs, and there is a lot of thatch in this part of Norfolk. Greatest of all, next to Paston Hall, is Paston Great Barn. It was built in the late sixteenth century, and a small stone plaque above the door reads, ‘THE BILDING OF THIS BEARNE IS BI SIR W PASTON KNIGHTE.’ Although you can walk round it, public access is not permitted inside, not because of some trendy, modern barn conversion, but because it is the only building in the country known to be home to a colony of barbastelles, a rare breed of bat.
Andrew Lubbock at Knapton
It was good to walk this route again, and to revisit these churches. Better still was finding them lively, visited and treasured. One of the greatest joys of these pilgrimages is meeting people, and the best part of today was renewing an old acquaintance, and benefitting from Andrew’s time and kindness. Norfolk simply wouldn’t be Norfolk without the Andrew Lubbocks of the county.
As he said when we went our separate ways at Edingthorpe, ‘Keep yew a troshin.’
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