When Parson Woodforde first visited Norwich in April 1775, he proclaimed it to be ‘the finest City in England by far’. It’s hard to disagree. Among many qualities, Norwich has the highest concentration of medieval churches in the country (or is it Europe? or the world?), and this was my first of three days over the course of my time in Norfolk exploring them. About a third of them form an excellent trail put together by the Julian of Norwich Partnership, taking the pilgrim around the sites of other medieval recluses in the city.
Most of Norwich’s churches have been declared redundant, and the Norwich Historic Churches Trust has done a marvellous job in finding new uses for them. This both provides income for maintenance, and also means these buildings still serve the community.
St Peter, Parmentergate
One of the more unusual tenants is at St Peter, Parmentergate. Its nave is a skatepark. Community East is a social enterprise which seeks to promote physical and mental wellbeing through skateboarding. I gingerly popped my head round what would have originally been the priest’s door (ironic, I know) and was welcomed by a woman in her 20s, board, kneepads and helmet in hand. I asked her what it was like skateboarding in a medieval church. ‘Great,’ she said, ‘but it is prone to extremes in temperature.’ Much like worshipping in one then.
Norwich Cathedral
I think I love Norwich Cathedral more every time I visit it. ‘The city wears its cathedral like a crown,’ says Betjeman. I once applied for a job here, and, in a funny way, I am quite glad I didn’t get it. Working here might have spoilt it for me. I spoke to one of the cathedral guides, who comes all the way from Gorleston to volunteer here. Like everyone I meet, she seemed genuinely interested in my project.
On then past St George, Tombland, which was locked, to St Peter, Hungate. This is a NHCT church which hosts exhibitions celebrating Norwich’s medieval heritage and art, and currently houses some fascinating contemporary installations, inspired by the church’s stained glass. One interactive installation included a contemporary poem written from the perspective of the Lady Julian’s son. (There is no evidence she had children before her visions, but I suppose it isn’t impossible.)
The volunteers here, like many, love Norwich’s churches without themselves being practising Christians. We chatted about the importance of church buildings in telling the stories of communities, and how this is an important thread to my pilgrimage around the county. One of the volunteers, a serious and clearly intelligent young man, observed, ‘I guess its as much about the journey as it is the destination.’
St Peter Hungate, with St George Tombland and the spire of the Cathedral in the background
Here, at the top of Elm Hill, you get a view back down towards Tombland and the Cathedral. If you stand in the right place, it appears as though St George’s has sprouted a spire. The other side of Elm Hill is ‘The Halls Norwich’, part of the former Blackfriars Priory. I don’t think I’ve ever been in, and that didn’t change, as the building is shrouded in scaffolding while it clearly undergoes refurbishment. It’s a vast, towerless church. They must have had a prominent presence in the city, along with the Franciscans. The Greyfriars Priory, of which there is now no trace, sprawled south of the cathedral beyond the Prince of Wales Road.
Opposite is the parish church of St Andrew. Its website suggests its thriving, which I hope is the case. But that’s not the appearance the building gives. The moss-encrusted path from the lychgate looks barely used. A forlorn Electoral Roll notice was pinned to the closed door. I’ve never seen this church open.
In contrast is the great civic church of St Peter Mancroft, towering over Norwich Market. I arrived to a hive of activity: flower arrangers, guides, people preparing for a lunchtime organ recital. One of many things this church is famous for is its bells. The first full peal as rung here in 1715. I was a keen bellringer in my youth, and rang here in the late 90s.
Me, with bellringers at Mancroft Ringing Centre
As I sat in the church, I could hear the sound of bells ringing. But they were not, from their timbre, the heavy bells of Mancroft. I then remembered a few years ago reading about the Mancroft Ringing Discovery Centre. This National Lottery aided project involved installing a ring of simulated bells in the base of tower for teaching and education.
A small door at the back of the church welcomes visitors, so in and up the spiral staircase I went. One of the great joys of ‘the Exercise’ is how ringers will almost unfailingly welcome and accept visiting ringers, even if, in my case, they haven’t touched a bell rope for years. Handling a bell in the English style of full-circle change ringing takes a certain level of expertise which, once learnt, is never forgotten. Within moments I was uttering the words, ‘Look to, treble’s going, she’s gone,’ and away I went. The sallies here – the woollen part of the bell rope – perfectly matched the yellow and green scarf I was wearing. It would be difficult to ring here if you were an Ipswich Town supporter.
Even busier than St Peter Mancroft was St Stephen’s. I’ve noticed before that this church has a café open during the week. One tends to assume that a church-run café will be, frankly, a bit rubbish. But this is as professional as it gets. The whole of the south aisle is set up for small children, and people of every age and walk of life were eating and drinking here. This church is in the evangelical tradition, and I imagine worship begins similarly, and this must be a helpful tool in their evangelism and welcome. It’s wonderful to see a church doing what it does incredibly well.
All Saints, Westlegate
Back onto Rampant Horse Street – Norwich has better street names than even the City of London – and up to All Saints, Westlegate. I recall this being a drop-in centre when I was a child. Now it is one of two redundant churches in the city which is an antiques centre. Here, as in all the redundant churches I am visiting, I prayed for all who had worshipped and served here in past generations.
Almost next door is St John, Timberhill, under the same management as St Julian’s. The lunchtime Mass had just finished, so it was very good to run into to Fr Richard Stanton again, and also Jeremy and Gudrun Warren. Gudrun is a churchwarden, and also Librarian of Norwich Cathedral. Fr Richard told me how St John’s reopened in the 1980s, after the closure of St Peter, Parmentergate (the skatepark), when it was decided that a presence was more needed in the city’s growing shopping district.
The challenge of a lot of the city’s parishes, is that, as Fr Richard explained, the parishes are shaped like a pizza slices, with the church in the narrowest corner. Since the bold decision to reopen St John’s 40 years ago, the make-up of the parish has changed again. The areas around the football stadium and the river, which were derelict wharfs and wasteland when I was a child, are now jam-packed with new development. If you were going to choose a strategic location for a church today, you’d go for St Peter Parmentergate. In fact, King’s Community Church has done exactly that in former commercial premises opposite. Nonetheless, St John’s provides an important prayerful presence in this part of the city. Before I left, a whole family came in, clearly grieving, to light candles and say prayers. I made my first Easter Communion here in 1994.
Fr Richard Stanton inside St John Timerberhill
Beyond John Lewis are the scant remains of the tower of St Bartholomew’s, and then the fine church of St John-de-Sepulchre. I’m not sure what its primary use is today, but it has large banners outside advertising it as a civil wedding venue. Why on earth would someone want a non-church wedding in a church?
I had decided to extend the walk slightly to include the ruins of St Peter Southgate. They are exceptionally hard to find. I was trying to use a 20-year-old photo from Simon Knott’s website, with a tower block in the background, to locate it. In the end, I gave up.
The last church on my little tour around Norwich was St Etheldreda’s, now an artists’ studio, and then a return to the Julian Centre, next to the Shrine, staffed by volunteers each day.
St Etheldreda
My pilgrimage was not quite complete, as my final destination was another shrine, in the extremity of Fr Richard’s patch: Carrow Road, the home of my beloved Norwich City FC. And, as if to prove that God can work through the profane as well as the sacred, I spotted a loke at the bottom of Rouen Road with the sign ‘Southgate Lane’. Sure enough, there was the stump of St Peter’s tower in the corner of a rather neglected children’s playground. Against the tide of fans making their way to the stadium I popped in to say a quick prayer and take a photo, only to get a dodgy look from my fellow fans as I returned to the footpath. It must have looked as if I’d nipped in for a wee.
It would have been easy in a city of so many ruined churches for this walk to be a funeral march for Christian England. However, not only would that be to misunderstand the nature of the original use of these medieval buildings, but it couldn’t have been further from my experience.
The majority of active churches had their doors wide open, and, in each one of them, I found godly activity: worship, welcome, prayer and community service. Each one is a hive of volunteers doing what has been done in these buildings for centuries. There may not be any recluses holed up in them, but, on this Saturday morning in mid-April, the churches of Norwich were doing just fine. Laus Deo.
There are more photos of this walk on my instagram page @walkingnorfolkschurches
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