2010

One sunny summer Saturday afternoon I cycled from York to Alne and beyond. The target of the excursion was the church at Alne, and its doorway, pictured above. The Pevsner guide calls it ‘Fully Norman and typically Yorkshire’, and mentions its ‘fancy animals’. Ever since I met my first carved Norman doorway at St Mary’s church, Kirkburn, I’ve tended to seek them out.

Round the back of the church, what appears to be Victorian graffiti, scratched into the presumably soft stone, by a bricked-up doorway. It could of course be a convincing fake, but I’m sure that date says 1879, and the other carving 1870.

Inside the church, an obviously modern east window. Its modernity is explained by a sign on the wall – it was created in the 1950s to replace a window destroyed in the war. Another bomber crashed here, in Alne village, damaging the window of the church, and other properties nearby. There’s a framed memorial to the crew, who were Canadian airmen based at RAF Tholthorpe.

This stained glass, designed by S D Collins, is a memorial window to Dr J A Kay. It’s even more modern, dating from 2002. It is a particularly beautiful piece of work. I’m beginning to appreciate modern stained glass.

Centuries older, this worn and damaged effigy in the Lady Chapel. It dates from the early 14th century, and according to the helpful information provided in the church, is believed to be a memorial to a member of the Ellerker family from nearby Youlton Hall.

Grand monuments to aristocratic people can sometimes make us working-class folks feel a bit distanced, but this one is so worn and somehow touching it didn’t have that effect. Particularly because the information on the wall points out the (rather lost) detail: ‘The broken figures at her head are angels waiting to catch her soul in a veil and take it to heaven’.

The photos on this page were taken in July 2009, but because I was involved with writing a book, this website was neglected for a time, and this page has been added to the website a year later. Inbetween times, I lost a dear friend, who took me in when I left home at sixteen. She was a true Christian, not just in word but in deed. Some people change your life, and pick you up and in some ways save you, and you don’t always get to tell them. I was lucky this time that I did get chance. Over the years I shared many joys and enthusiasms with her, and she always responded with equal enthusiasm. The last joyful thing I told her about was cycling to Alne.

I’m an agnostic, but would still like to believe that good people do have angels waiting to catch their souls and take them to heaven. There would I think have been a queue of angels around Rene’s shoulders.

So, this page was compiled in memory of Rene Parker, whose spirit I hope will be with me, on all my journeys.

The post St Mary, Alne appeared first on York Stories.

7 February 2007

Rillington’s church has a spire on top of its tower. The spire seems to have caused a few problems in the past, as inscriptions inside the church relate.

The spire was blown down in 1783 and rebuilt in 1788. It was then damaged by the Great Gale of 1839 and was repaired in 1840.

It was then struck by lightning in 1867 and had to be restored again "with a conductor attached".

The inscription for these 19th century incidents notes: "public subscriptions on both occasions". I bet the local people had a history of nervously eyeing the spire every time there was a storm.

I visited this church not to admire its much-rebuilt spire, but because family history research brought me here. Some of my ancestors lived in these parts and this was their church, before the railway line arrived at the edge of Rillington, and eventually brought us to York. My ancestors would have been baptised in this font, above. It had already been in service for centuries before then. The Pevsner guide tells me it’s an early 13th century font, with a 17th century cover, shown above, right.

I noticed the handsomely painted ceiling (above left), which was restored and painted in 1892. General restoration of the church took place in 1884-5 (by C Hodgson Fowler), but the church is, Pevsner says, "largely old".

I can’t tell you anything interesting about the little chap carved here on one of the pillars, but he looks like he might have been here for a fair while, watching the spire falling down a few times. Above, carved detail from another pillar.

Rillington has one of these beautifully detailed Rolls of Honour, which I’ve seen in many churches now. They list the members of the parish who served in the First World War. (At first, because we know the number of casualties in WW1 was so high, we assume this is a list of all those who died in the war.) A cross next to certain names "denotes those who lost their lives".

The impact on a village parish of such a large number of men going to war would have been considerable, and was of course replicated across the country.

I do like the way churches have features from so many centuries, all mixed in together. The east window, by H V Milner, pictured left, dates from 1904.

The lectern has a small brass plaque with an inscription showing that it was given "by parishioners and friends" in memory of Rev William MacDowall, vicar at Rillington from 1864 to 1889.

Much, much older than the lectern plaque and the stained glass window is this small, rather faded, partial wall painting, hidden around the corner in the north aisle of the church, and dating from around 1370.

Pevsner says it is "the most important medieval wall painting in the East Riding." It was cleaned around 25 years ago, being indecipherable previously, and it has apparently been shown to be the only wall painting surviving showing St John of Beverley.

I enjoyed my visit to this church. It felt like it was very much in use, with a carpeted area at the back with children’s toys, but also with all its record of past centuries, in its architecture and decoration.

I particularly liked, as I was leaving, the painted inscription on a wooden plaque above the door. I’m not sure when it dates from, but it gives a clear message to the departing congregation – "Go and sin no more."

The post St Andrew, Rillington appeared first on York Stories.

7 February 2007

This visit was again prompted by family history research initially, though as with all other church visits similarly inspired, it was worth coming whatever the reason. This church is situated in parkland, tucked away between trees in the grounds of Knapton Hall.

After visiting (or rather viewing from a distance) my "ancestral seat" (a small railway cottage), we headed for the church, arriving at just the right time of day, the quiet time of late afternoon.

As we followed the old rights of way around the fields it struck me that my Victorian ancestors would probably have walked this way too, from the home where my great-grandfather was born, to the church where he was christened. I just hope that they didn’t get caught on as many thorny bushes as I did en route.

The last part of the walk was through the more ordered Knapton Hall parkland, where sheep were grazing, surrounded by rather nice rusting old railings with kissing gates giving access.

It was one of these days where you don’t have a definite plan, so I hadn’t researched whether the church was open, I just had a vague idea of visiting, after Rillington. Not only was the church not open (which I’d expected), it isn’t actually used as a church anymore (which I hadn’t expected). St Edmund was one of the growing number of churches declared redundant as a place of worship. It is still cared for though, as the sign by the door indicated.

The photo left shows the bellcote, the right photo one of those miscellaneous bits of ironwork that somehow look much more attractive when a bit rusty and worn.

There was a church here before the Victorian period, but the Victorians seem to have had a passion for restoring and rebuilding churches, and this one dates from the 1870s. This would make it "new" when my ancestor was baptised here. I wonder what they thought of it then.

I’m sorry I have no photos just now of the inside of this church, a church that the Pevsner guide calls "one of the most enjoyable churches in the [East] Riding", when describing its charming interior. These views of the porch floor will have to do, for this is as far as my exploration went, admiring these Victorian tiles. Another visit may be made in the future.

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15 September 2006

Not your usual rural parish church. This one has a huge monolith standing right next to it, towering over the chuchyard. The Rudston monolith is the largest standing stone in Britain, around 25ft (7.7 metres) high.

This neolithic stone does, of course, predate the church – which has been built alongside it. Christian churches were often built on or near sites already used as pagan religious sites, but it’s not that often you see such obvious evidence of this.

Research in the 1700s is said to have determined that the length of the stone buried below ground equals the 26ft or so above. Though the depth of the stone below the surface is a matter of some debate, we can assume it goes down some way, to be still standing upright. The top of the stone has been capped with lead, presumably to prevent erosion.

A plaque alongside the stone explains its significance. A pound coin had been left in one of the holes in the stone’s surface, and a candle lit nearby.

Our older churches show a fascinating mix of materials and styles from their various alterations and rebuildings. I love these strange little details in an older church’s exterior. Above, details from the south wall of the church, with evidence of repatching of the original stone with this rather attractive brick/terracotta type material.

Above – details from around the window on the south wall. Rather crumbling, these little carved heads, but I rather like these unrestored parts.

More recent, presumably, inside the porch, these carved heads on either side of the door. The lady appears to be wearing better than the gentleman.

In the churchyard, underneath the massive monolith, I noticed several of the graves had ironwork around them, including this one, with anchors and a chain, and even a cross made from iron. Also noticeable were many headstones of the same design, in a row next to one another, under the monolith. A few of them were leaning, as headstones in old churchyards often do. Unlike the monolith, buried so deep in the earth that it seems well anchored for more centuries to come.

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15 September 2006

There have been many churches I’ve "visited" without going inside. There are many reasons for this – because of dashing past, and stopping only briefly for a look on the way to somewhere else; because the church door is locked; because sometimes the exterior view is enough, at that time. In this case, the exterior was interesting enough for me to feel that I’d properly visited this church. My favourite detail was this strange little face in one of the walls. I’ve no explanation. I’m beginning to realise that there are many odd little details on our oldest churches that reflect their long and eventful history, and that explaining them in terms of dates doesn’t always aid appreciation.

So I’ve put away my Pevsner guide, and all I want to say is that I visited this church, on the edge of its village, on a sunny September morning, and no one else was around, and the walls and windows and doors of the church reflected changes during the course of its history.

Outside, in the churchyard, headstones covered in lichen, but also headstones leaning against the wall of the church, some of which were made of iron.

Someone cared enough to stand the broken headstones up against the wall of the church, rather than leaving them where they fell, and someone cared enough to put arrangements of flowers on the windowsill in the porch.

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15 September 2006

These wonderful creatures were found on the south wall of St Mary’s, Kirkburn, and show that visiting churches isn’t always about looking at pious and serious things.

The Pevsner guide says of St Mary’s, Kirkburn: "After Newbald it is the best Norman parish church in the East Riding."

As a relative newcomer to church appreciation I often end up bemused when trying to follow more detailed descriptions of the architecture. I can however identify that the niche above the door of the porch contains a carved figure, which appears to be of Mary, holding the Christ child.

Of an earlier date than the porch is this window, also on the south side of the church, a Norman window, with deep zig-zag carving.

This photo shows a closer view of the same window. It’s a very handsome church, with many varied architectural features, and I found it inspired a strong feeling of connection with our past, our ancestors – even without going inside the church. Instead I walked around it. The photo above right is of course of the eastern part of the church – which seemed particularly handsome even from the outside.

I’ve realised, as an agnostic who has only recently started to look more carefully at churches, that I need to read up on the subject, try to learn how to see them more clearly, understand them better. These buildings that were at the centre of the lives of our ancestors are unfamiliar to many of us.

These photos are from the north side of the church.

At this church in particular I noticed the change between the light south side and the shaded north. The north side is quieter and darker. This isn’t the side that the church presents to the world, but is hidden away, while the south entrance faces the road, has a path leading to the road. This northern side felt even more rooted in the past, somehow – more plain, less restored, less "inhabited".

The tower, to the west of the church. Partly Norman, but, as the Pevsner guide explains: "The top stage is Perp, and the stage below with the unmistakable E.E. twin former bell-openings, E.E.".

I’ve included that for anyone reading who would find it enlightening. At this stage in my appreciation of churches, it’s like Greek to me. I know that it’s referring to Perpendicular and Early English, but as yet no great light has switched on in my head that helps me understand such things properly or recognise them for myself.

Still, it’s very handsome, I can see that.

Back on the south side of the church now, and the most impressive Norman doorway is of course the south one, pictured above. (The left-hand image can be enlarged with a click of the mouse.) The same Pevsner guide quoted above judges this doorway "spectacular if coarse".

My visit was one of those occasions when ignorance is bliss, for those of us who wouldn’t know a coarse Norman doorway from a refined one. When I approached it, on a sunny September morning, I just thought it was fantastic. It was one of those moments when you get a real insight into times long gone.

The impression I got was of exuberance, rather than coarseness, like those carved stones were alive and still saying something to a 21st century visitor, even an agnostic and ignorant one like me.

I’m not sure the message was a particularly religious one – natural imagery abounds, and what seemed to be transmitted most was an exuberant appreciation of the natural world.

The churchyard, like so many older burial grounds, seemed like a haven for birds and other wildlife. I always try to find time to wander or sit in the churchyard for a while. The old memorials are often beautifully carved and the inscriptions fascinating. Above, a memorial to “Sir Prince Prince-Smith Baronet”. And alongside the path to the church door, a pair of headstones of the same design, for members of the same family, but apparently erected some time apart, one covered in lichen and leaning a little, while the other is still legible, and still upright.

This church has the atmosphere it has because it’s still cared for now, after so many centuries. The Norman doorway displays the artistic skills of our ancestors, and represents a part of their view of the world. Close by, also in the porch, modern artistic skill is displayed in a beautifully presented noticeboard. The display reflects something of our modern-day concerns, showing photos of wildlife conservation work in the churchyard.

This church has survived so many of our catastrophes and conflicts, and still adapts. Despite viewing only its exterior, I left feeling not only connected to the past, but optimistic about the present. I guess that’s how churches want to make us feel. It’s impressive though, I think, if a mere building can do that, without any words being spoken from a pulpit.

Links/more information

More information about St Mary’s, Kirkburn can be found on the church website: www.churchatkirkburn.org.uk

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