Open For Business

Perfect days like this are few and far between. The ideal day to be cycling along, just north of Downham Market, and enjoying the roadside flowers and the vast skies arching over the Fens. I was on my way somewhere else (which of course you'll learn about in future posts) when I realised I was close to the village of Wimbotsham.

When I say "realised I was close" I mean there was a big sign at the side of the road saying WIMBOTSHAM so I could hardly be mistaken. I remembered that the church has some nicely carved bench-ends on the pews, not medieval but so cleverly carved that you could easily think that they were the real thing.

I smiled at the sign inside the porch. I'm sure they don't really mean it any more than the landlord of a pub I know means All Day Opening - try knocking on the door at eight o'clock in the morning and see if mine host is as merry as he was at ten the previous evening! And I bet the church locks up at night too. But at least it's open now which is all that matters.

I went inside and waited for my eyes to adjust to the light and I'm sure I heard a voice but as I looked around I could see there was no one else there and I commenced taking a photo of the unusual stone pulpit and the old stairs which once led up to the rood loft.

See what I mean about the bench ends? The woodcarver has perfectly caught the mood of older carvings. Not only that, but the subject-matter and the darkening of the wood looks so authentic.

A rather unusual "poppy-head" bench end depicting a figure carrying a shield bearing a coat of arms. The term "poppy-head" has nothing to do with poppies anyway and I was trying to remember just.....

"Excuse me" - there's that voice again. Not an indignant "excuse me", but someone sounding as if begging forgiveness. Then I could see him, kneeling down behind the altar. Was he in prayer? Or maybe a workman fixing the electrics?

"I'll be going soon. Got caught out last night". I understood then, my mystery man was a homeless person who sought (and found) refuge from the night air in the chancel of the church. At least that was my conclusion from the evidence of the sleeping bag, the discarded shoes and the water bottle. 

"I've just come in to take some photos," I assured him. He looked around him, "Aye, it's a beautiful building, isn't it?" he said. I'd have liked to have spoken to him for longer, but with that he climbed back into his sleeping bag and settled down once more. I turned to leave him in peace.

So. Not only a church with remarkable carving, but also one with a remarkable policy, for this day and age, of actually always being open.

Outside once more I noticed a huge Norman door. At least I think it's Norman. Sometimes it's hard to know what to believe.

Take care.

Oh, I've just looked it up, the term poppyhead comes from the Latin word "puppis" meaning the curved figurehead of a ship.