After the last two cough-inducing posts I have been advised to get out in the fresh air. So how about a ruined church in Norfolk at nine o'clock in the morning? Norfolk specialises in redundant churches, many falling to pieces in the middle of fields with just the odd crow or owl for company. This treasure is to be found down a cul-de-sac below the famous Appleton Water Tower on the Sandringham Estate, a drive down through a farmyard to where sheep graze around the iron fencing. Appleton church has a 12th century round tower, now covered in ivy and built in local pebbles, flint, brick and the carrstone that runs in a narrow band next to the coast of this part of West Norfolk. There are 179 standing round towers in England, of which about 140 are in Norfolk. They are assumed to be easier to build than square towers, but they're not. It's just a style thing. So here is Appleton, forgotten, but not lonely. You open a gate in the iron railings and wade chest-high through vegetation to where this porch is ablaze with colour in the autumn light. The next time you're here, turn off the coastal runs and get the Ordnance map out of the glove box. Within a very short distance of just this one ruin are two more locations marked in Old English black letter: 'Church (rems of)'.
9 comments:
Phew! I can breath again. Does the church have a name?
Unfortunately I can't find the dedication, but that's probably because I haven't persevered enough. Until then I think we should call it St.Combo's.
I'm moved.
Or St Ron's. But St Ronald, apparently, was a martyr from Orkney, so perhaps St Combo's has more of the flavour of the South.
St Ron of Combo? For what, precisely?
I had not known there was a vacancy for 'Patron Saint Of Wanting A Tracked Vehicle, Preferably With A Bit Of Patina' but clearly, if such an opening exists then Ron's your man. Where do I sign?
I like this. St. Ron's. I think I'm going to call it this anyway, if anybody asks. It somehow seems just right for a leaky old ruin leaning in a field surrounded by disturbed sheep.
Rather than shoehorning poor Ron into premature sainthood we can quite simply make him other-worldly by deleting his full point and giving him the appellation, StRon - which I am reliably informed makes him a Vulcan warp field specialist of the Star Trek generation. All rather charming as apparently the character crashed to earth in 1957, and assimilated himself into the local population masquerading as a plumber. When nobody was looking he'd fix the trickier central heating problems with advanced Vulcan technology. Presumably he always wore a wooly hat to hide those give-away ears. What are the shape of Ron's ears, incidentally?
Round church towers we like very much. I had no idea there were so many in Norfolk - another gem of knowledge from Ashley's 'Enquire Within'.
"Very round, Norfolk" to misquote Coward.
This is what I love about blogging and its attendant commentating. We've gone from a ruined 12th century church in a sheep pasture to Vulcanite ears. Marvellous.
This place would be a blessed relief from some of the happy clappy crap I endure some sundays.
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