Walk 29: St Withburga, in the Heart of Norfolk

Dereham is a friendly town. It is bang in the centre of the county, and prides itself on being ‘the heart of Norfolk’. As far as one can be from not being in Norfolk, it is no surprise that Dereham typifies the county. People smile and say hello to strangers, and it has largely escaped gentrification. In fact, it is so welcoming that it doesn’t charge you to park in the car park.

Don’t be fooled into thinking it is a market town idyll. Having listened to a programme on Radio 4 yesterday about politeness and profanity, I was amused to overhear a woman, sitting on a step in a backstreet, repeatedly use the phrase, ‘I don’t give two f***s that…’ I’ve heard of not giving two hoots, and – without wishing to shock my readers – of not giving a single f***, but I have never heard the two idioms so creatively combined. I think she might have been on the phone to her partner. Or perhaps ex-partner by now.

Dereham's bell tower

From the profane to the sacred. St Nicholas, East Dereham is not at the heart of the heart of Norfolk, but at the end of a side street leading west towards the water. I hadn’t expected it to be so big. This is a venerable building, both in scale and character. It has a vast, fifteenth century bell tower, not unlike Chichester Cathedral. The seven sacrament font is one of Norfolk’s finest, and certainly tallest.

I could have spent all day exploring it, but instead I had a chance meeting with the Team Rector, Canon Paul Cubbitt. Bible in one hand, tripod in the other, I assume he had just finished broadcasting Morning Prayer. I introduced myself, but didn’t need to explain what I was about. Rather touchingly, he has been following this blog.

Time is not normally a factor in my walks, but today I had a mid-morning appointment. I had not left anything like enough time to explore this extraordinary building, and the time I had I spent talking to Paul. I didn’t mind one bit. I enjoy these impromptu opportunities to chat about the church’s ministry, and can always leave the architectural and historical stuff for another time.

Interior, St Nicholas, East Dereham

Paul is an experienced priest, coming here from another of Norfolk’s fine town churches, North Walsham. He has an infectious commitment to bridging the gap between church and community. There is an exciting project to enclose the north transept, and he has brought to the parish a new commitment to keep the church open daily for visitors.

One of the benefits of meeting him was that he unlocked St Withburga’s Well for me. St Withburga was one of the saintly daughters of King Anna (although there is now some doubt about her parentage), and founded a religious community here in 654. During construction, the Blessed Virgin Mary appeared to Withburga, bestowing two does, whose milk quenched the thirst of her builders. From this miracle is derived the town’s name. (East Dereham differentiates it from West Dereham, which is 25 miles away near Downham Market. I don’t think Our Lady provided milkable deer there as well.)

Withburga was buried here in 743, and a cult rose around her incorrupt body. But, in 974, some pesky monks from Ely got the townspeople drunk, stole Withburga’s body, and reinterred her with her sisters in Ely. As if in protestation, a well miraculously sprung up from her grave. It is here to this day, lying to the west of the church, still attracting a trickle of pilgrims. I prayed here, my second well in as many days, adding my prayers to countless who have knelt here over almost thirteen centuries.

St Withburga's Well

One of the things I have reflected on during my pilgrimages is the role of women in the history of the church in Norfolk. As Our Lady appeared to Withburga, so too she appeared to Richeldis de Faverches four centuries later in Walsingham. Norfolk’s most notable medieval Christians are the mystics Margery Kempe and Julian of Norwich. Elizabeth Fry, the prison reformer, was from Norwich. The nurse Edith Cavell was born in Swardeston, and is buried at Norwich Cathedral, where she is venerated as a Christian martyr. Even Delia Smith is a practising Roman Catholic. It is difficult to think of as many men who have had an effect as profound on Christianity in Norfolk as these women.

So it was with delight that I met up with the Bishop of Lynn, the Rt Revd Jane Steen, who is based in Dereham. Having met a few clergy and a lot of lay people over the course of my pilgrimage, it was very good to have the opportunity to talk about the joys and challenges of ministry with a member of the senior staff.

As I suspected, one of the biggest challenges is clergy recruitment. Pretty much her opening gambit was to entice me to the Diocese. (Am I tempted? Yes, of course I am. Am I ready for a move? No!) We discussed how clergy aren’t really trained for rural ministry, and are put off by the prospect of looking after multiple parishes and multiple churches. Bishop Jane has a compelling vision for ministry on her patch. I hope Norfolk’s female saints are spurring on the Diocese’s first female bishop with their prayers. (Clergy reading this, please pray about whether God is calling you to ministry in north or west Norfolk. It's the best place in the world, and Bishop Jane is tremendous.)

Pontifically blessed, I headed north, crossing the part of the Mid-Norfolk Railway where the grass-covered track awaits its day of resurrection, and to the tiny village of Hoe.

Hoe Church

St Andrew, Hoe was rebuilt in 1794, the chancel added in 1820, and the south porch in 1833. Each section bears its year of construction. The tower is medieval, but only the base survives. It is not normally open, although details of a keyholder are available. I was grateful to the Team Rector, who made sure it was unlocked for my visit.

From Hoe to a church I have wanted to visit for a long time, simply because I have seen photographs of it and couldn’t believe the tower is as big as it looks. It is. All Saints, Swanton Morley is a vast, Perpendicular edifice. Building commenced in 1360, so it’s fair to say that this is early Perpendicular.

Swanton Morley

It feels like a bit of a Perpendicular experiment on a very large scale. I wonder, on completion, or as it was being built, if the architects of the day learnt from it. ‘We’ll make the bell openings smaller next time.’ ‘Let’s not extend the aisles as far westward as the tower.’ ‘The font would look better in the centre, not attached to a pillar.’ ‘The clerestory windows ought to be bigger.’ ‘The tower doesn’t need to be quite as wide.’

None of this is criticism. I think this building is brilliant: a distinctive and commanding church for a distinctive and commanding position. From the churchyard there are the most superb views of the Wensum Marches, looking out towards Bylaugh.

Interior, Swanton Morley

From Swanton Morley, I could have returned straight to Dereham. But I was keen to walk some of the Wensum Way using the permissive footpath on the marshes below the church. This really is the heart of Norfolk. Docile cattle graze happily as the Wensum wends its way through the countryside. I wish I had done this route in the other direction, so serene were the views of Swanton Morley’s church behind me.

The route’s northernmost point is tantalisingly close to St Mary, Bylaugh. (Not to be confused with Belaugh. Surely no other English county has so many pairs of villages with a single letter difference. This is the most bizarre of them all.) There is no bridge over the Wensum here. Had I a pair of trunks in my rucksack I would have been tempted to swim to it.

Bylaugh viewed from the other side of the Wensum

The path traces the Penny Spot Beck, a tributary of the Wensum, back towards Swanton Morley. The extra circuit made this one of my longer walks, and certainly my most-miles-per-church. The road I had planned to use to return to Dereham was busier than I had anticipated, necessitating a longer route through fields and farms. Several times over the last couple of months I have followed footpaths into people’s gardens. Today I had to circumnavigate someone’s washing line.

I had planned to return to Dereham’s great church at the end of the walk. But it was five o’clock when I arrived in Dereham, and, even had it still been open, I wouldn’t have had the time nor the energy to do it justice. It was the price I paid for two energising, engaging and intelligent conversations about the life of the church in Norfolk this morning. I’m yet to pay for the guide I was holding when Paul showed me to St Withburga’s Well. I am very glad to have an excuse to come back.

Walk: 13 miles https://explore.osmaps.com/route/22081087/dereham-3-churches