Hemington, North Somerset

Hemington didn't seem to be hugely bigger than Hardington Bampfylde, but its church is just massive. It's got aisles, and a sort of chapel open to the south side of the altar. The latter was where we found the excellent Norman font with its petally scallops. Pevsner calls the decoration 'lobes'. Sometimes I think he just didn't care about Norman fonts at all :) But I mustn't feel too irritated by him as his books are essentially the reason B and I have found so many interesting places to visit. And at least we have the luxury of enjoying wherever we go. His explorations for the books must have turned into sheer slog. Monetarily rewarded slog of course. With the opportunity for the occasional sarcastic remark. But slog nonetheless. "Right let's go, we've got 15 more to do before teatime."

The chancel arch is Norman in style too, but very sharply carved, to the extent where we were doubting its age. It's not got the personalised soft variety of the carving of the font. But I was kind of swung by the slight asymmetricalness of the design of the capitals - the pairs to left and right don't quite match. Plus there are traces of bright paint on them - does that not indicate their Normanness? I don't know. The age of the foot of the columns seems easier to acknowledge, again asymmetrical with chevrons on one of them. And what's that... yep at the bottom of one of the ones on the left, there's a strange little head. It reminded us a little of the "minute face" at Maperton. 

 

What an unexpected and curious thing. What a nice thing that the carver of the columns stole the opportunity to add this little character. It rather humanises the otherwise quite severe archway. What did it mean to people of the time I wonder? It's tempting to read something un-Christian into it, something to do with spirits being in everything around us. But you can't imagine that would have been entertained at all, though is it possible that Evil spirits might be lurking about. I don't know. I liked the little face though. I gave it a proper dusting. In fact there were lots of interesting carvings in Hemington, a whole row of them along the south aisle, though not as old. 

And another thing we appreciated about Hemington was its toilet, unlocked. Such a boon to the fonting traveller. I'm not kidding. It was also nice to have a look through the ferns in the little well opposite the church. The watery theme continued as we drove up out of the village and spotted water pouring out of the roadside at the top of the hill. We had to stop. It was a liverwort jungle, and with such a soothing sound.

Minstead, Hampshire

Lamb of God from the Minstead font

Double bodied creature

Eagles and ?

Minstead baptism? scene

Scenes from the Minstead font, considerably tidied up from my original sketches. So tempting to just make them stark black and white (as if I'd done them in cut mountboard). But I kind of like the slightly textured scratchiness of the scraperboards I've used.

Bear with me while I amuse myself, my animation skills are severely last century.

The lamb of god gif. Has there ever been such a thing before in the history of the internet.

Great Wishford, Wiltshire

The Church Person who was busying themselves in the building while we were there was my kind of welcoming, in that he showed polite and non-bemused interest, and then let us get on with our drawings as though it was the most reasonable thing in the world. Considering the decided magnificence of the font at Great Wishford, it's no wonder people might like to come and draw it. It's got miniature column motifs (every one slightly different, how marvellous) and much zigzaggy lozengey loveliness in between. I did get the proportions slightly wrong (a repeated problem) but maybe that's not so important as the experience. We sat on chairs in the open doorway and proper drawing concentration commenced. I'm starting to realise that I'm at an age where taking some sort of folding chair is going to be necessary for relaxed concentration. The crouching in the cold at Stockton just wasn't condusive to Art. Oh well.

North Wootton, Somerset

We had to salvage this trip, find something properly Norman and do some drawing. So we drove in hope to North Wootton. Success at last.

It may be that I'm starting to lose the plot but this font had to get a little pat. It's exactly the type of thing we both like - chunky, wonky, with a bit of strong and honest decoration. In fact I think it's one of the wonkiest we've seen (you can see a photo on Robyn Golden-Hann's website - which slightly annoyingly shows an interesting font at Pilton that we missed). I love the way the old-style rope design changes into a series of up and down chevrons. You can see the place where the lock was (another feature I like to see to believe in a font's ancientness - not that you need that in this case. I wonder why they removed them, you never see one...)

Maybe it didn't use to be quite so wonky - there's also some weird patch towards the base that makes it look like it was reset a bit crooked. Also the photo makes it look much more elongated - I guess the angle I drew it at made it a bit foreshortened. Oh well. It was good to find after such a peculiar day and I felt refreshed from the opportunity to feel relaxed and draw.

I regret that I can't find anything else exciting to say about North Wootton. I'm sure it's a jolly nice place.

Incidentally, we removed the familiar style of hideous cover before drawing (just as I see Ms G-H did, despite her religious nature). I read on this page the eccentric idea that the "18th-century cover [was] probably adapted from the pedestal of a tea table". I think that was probably supposed to be humour but later repeated as fact. The cover was Clunky. Hey, preacher! leave those fonts alone! No really. Lay off the tasteless woodwork. I don't care if it's antique.

Bathford, North-East Somerset

I didn't write down anything for Bathford when I originally went through the Pevsner for this area, but I recently found a Lead. The Bathford Society says when the church was rebuilt in the 1870s, the 'effigy of a bishop' was found. In my fevered mind I managed to spin this into the rediscovery by two Romanesque fanatics of a Norman carving similar to the Mary and Jesus one in Langridge. It didn't turn out quite like that. But we did find Bathford church packed with interesting things. So much for my Pevsnering.

The main doorway was evidently, typically, Romanesque. It's got a nice thick band of projecting chevrons, and these surrounded by some bobbles ('pellets') and a bit of saw-tooth ornament round the outside. Also our favourite feature, the non-matching column capitals. I always feel reassured we're onto the real deal when there's non-matching capitals.

,

And the capitals are quite different to each other.

The left hand one is crisp and geometric. It's so unworn by time. It's rather sharp and exuberant. The right hand one is chaotic and wandering, it's organic like a load of liverwort lobes growing over the surface. Such a contrast.

Inside, the font is quite near the door (traditional spot for fonts, so they say). It's octagonal, which made us think it must be quite late. But I can believe it's still Romanesque, because of the solidness of the 'stalk' and the interestingness of the scallopy/trumpety arrangement. I think the pattern just changes alternately round the sides, but the combining of the low scallopybits and the high scallopybits gives an impression of randomness and instability. But really I think it's quite logical and mathematical. I rather like it.

Meanwhile, a carved head slumbered peacefully over by the windows.

In retrospect this is our favourite discovery at the church. It had such an excellent expression. I can't tell if a lot of that is coming from my brain's propensity to interpret detail out of the little dints and scrapes that weren't really part of the carver's intentions. I couldn't even tell you if the eyes are staring straight out or (as my brain sees it) closed and snoozing, with eyebrows above. But I liked it. It had that something about it.


Some anciently typed guff accompanied the carving. It said it "was found at some depth in the forecourt of the Crown Inn in 1933, probably having belonged to the collection of the late Mr Lavington, and having accidentally fallen into an excavation when works were in progress there." You what?! How B and I laughed at the thought of Mr Lavington wandering past with one of the pieces from his collection, and not noticing it drop out of his hand into a hole, and it going unnoticed by the hole diggers and being covered over. It seems ludicrously unlikely. It is ludicrously unlikely.

Furthermore, the head is referred to as a 'skull', which it clearly isn't (skulls don't have noses and lips). It's got some curious lines around it - is that a close-fitting hat? And there are some lumpy bits at the front. It seems to be carved so as to rest on a horizontal surface, not as though it was part of the decoration of something high up or vertical. But yet it's not at the angle it would be if lying down as part of a body.

Who knows. I can't help but think of ancientness and Anne Ross's heads in 'Pagan Celtic Britain', especially if we believe it was found 'at some depth'. But who knows. I just know I liked it.

Outside (in the graveyard where Nelson's young sister is buried) we sought more sculpture. Several things had been gathered in the shelter of the building near the chancel door. I'm glad they're relatively protected from the weather. But it seemed a bit unfair to tuck them away like this. There was a columnless capital with lovely perforated circles:

Also these three faces:

The left hand one is separate and seems to have a good thatch of hair. The other two are on the same piece of stone, which is interesting - could they be a double corbel? They seem more stylised and so they feel older to me. The left of the pair has a distinct ear (recalling Maperton's Minute Face) and a pursed expression, twisting his mouth to one side. The one on the right is also pulling a strange expression. He's got a stripe across the middle of his face. It can't be a bandage because the nose is uncovered. But it's not very convincing as a moustache either. So I wonder what it signifies.

Also next to the faces is this slab - if you visited somewhere and found only this you'd normally be very happy!This would have been great to draw but it was so very cold and my fingers wouldn't work.

We walked up to the top of the graveyard to find the promised effigy of St Swithun. It was a long way up. Again, it seemed sort of strange that the Victorian restorers would care enough to keep the carvings, but not care enough to actually keep them safe in the church. The good people of Bathford have recently renewed a little roof over the ones installed at the top of the graveyard to keep off the worst of the weather, but as we discovered, there sadly wasn't much left to protect.

The lovely beaded chevron column pieces next to 'St Swithun' are definitely Norman. They look like one at Langridge not so far away.

And there are two capitals, very worn, and they both seem to have heads carved on them.

        

 That could be a chin on the left hand remnant. But the right one looks clearer - is that a row of even little teeth along the bottom? There are definitely eyes. Is it a skull in fact? On both are the deep V shapes that are still on the main church doorway capital. They're interesting and it's such a shame they're so weathered! I wonder how decayed they were when they were first discovered and taken to the top of the churchyard.

 And what of the main attraction, the alleged St Swithun? He's looking a bit sorry for himself. But I think you can see a number of features that suggest the sculpture has Norman origins.

It's so weathered it's hard to see the details. It seems to be missing the middle section altogether. The figure is definitely clutching a book, which is a motif we've seen lots of times.

The chest has arcs that look rather like ribs. But I wonder if they're folds of clothing. When you look at the foot area, you can see fine lines which also suggest clothing folds. A bit too fine for my liking, I feel Norman sculpture is usually bolder. But I do like the daintiness of the feet, they're very thin and pointy, and remind me very much of the figure on the Cherhill font I recently drew from, or indeed from the sculpture at Stanton St. Quintin.

It's all a bit too worn and decayed which is sad. But it was nice to find.

I thought this church was going to be big and cold and Victorianly over-restored. But it had a very nice atmosphere indeed. I don't think that was just down to the extensive carpeting.

Ooh look

Oh sometimes I can't help laughing at my own amusingness. Although maybe this is how the sculpture was supposed to be. (I think I prefer my original interpretation though). This is photoshopped, honestly. You knew that.

Castle Combe, Wiltshire

An illustration of our favourite Norman knight popping his feet up on a little creature for eternity - what an amazing stone carver the artist was, it's such a fantastic sculpture.

My original sketch is here. The above has lost some of the latter's vagueness and impression of close observation. That's sort of good and bad at the same time. I'm not displeased with this version though.

Chirton, Wiltshire

B and I went to the Grayson Perry tapestry exhibition at the Victoria Art Gallery in Bath today. It was Amazing. This is not particularly the place to get carried away about it. But suffice to say we were thoroughly rejuvenated by his work. Such amazing colours and detail, and reflecting truths about modern society while being firmly rooted in art from previous eras. So much to think about.

The creative urge rubbed off and we went home to get on with something. What could we go and draw? (the family selling a car at the petrol station? another bit of Norman sculpture? NO. We ought to actually finish something and make a bit of art from one of our many many sketches.)

B is writing an article about Chirton for a local magazine, but it needs photos or illustrations. I made up my mind. I took my sketch here (which doesn't look much like that in the flesh) and the above is the result. It's cut mountboard (a long standing favourite technique of mine... maybe I even invented it :)... dark green really because that's the colour I had... and size A1.

I am very chuffed with it. I am currently in that glorious state of mind where I am very pleased with it and am enjoying looking at it. I know from previous experience that this will wear off and the anxiety and dissatisfaction with one's efforts will return :) but that is the curse of the creator of bits of art. In the meantime I'm going to enjoy it, and use my new-found positive energy to get on with some Moss-Dissertation-Related very necessary work tomorrow.

Hurrah for inspiration and getting on with something. And down with wasting time fiddling on the internet (oh the irony). More must be done. And to think this morning I was feeling particularly Januaryish and unable to see anything to look forward to.

You can see a photo of the font here, in fact the figure on the right could be the very figure (St Peter with his key to heaven) that I originally drew. It makes me realise that it's been quite a transformation! but I feel like I've remained true to the original carver's intentions in some way.

Pipe Aston, Herefordshire

B and I have been to see the carvings at Pipe Aston before. But that was in the days before the Dawn of her Enthusiasm for the Romanesque. So it was interesting to see the look on her face when she realised what she's seen then, but not Seen. The carvings here are pretty bloody impressive, some of the best.

She immediately started making comparisons between the style and designs here and the marvellous font we saw at Stottesdon. These are top notch Herefordshire school carvings. And yet this is apparently a tiny church in a hamlet in sight of the back end of beyond.

 

Here's a large bird apparently pecking a smaller bird while a doggish creature spews what I take to be foliage at them. It's part of the carving on the tympanum. There was so much to draw... but it was frustratingly cold and windy so this was the only element I attempted outside. 

Here's the tympanum as captured by John Salmon.

There's our favourite, the Lamb of God, in the centre, with his little leg bent round cutely to support his pole with the cross. The cutely bent horizontal leg seems to be a diagnostic Romanesque feature.  He's also got some kind of radiating nimbus thing going on, but without any circular halo. Flanking him is the winged ox and leggy eagle of (I imagine) the evangelists. Not to mention more animals with tucked-under tails, plenty of patterns, a bit of planty swirlyness. The stones supporting the tympanum are serpenty and planty. Even the chevrons over the top are obviously excellent - they're single stones smoothed into a 3-d shape in a most satisfying fashion. The tympanum is in three parts but they seem different colours, almost as though it's not been broken accidentally but were always separate. Though that would seem a bit odd, given the strange angle. But who knows.

Inside, there's more Norman goodness. It's even said that the planty paintings on the walls are original, which seems quite crazy but perhaps it's true. What took my eye though was the sculptural goodness of the curious tapering small font. It's carved with two animals - one is a wormy tailed wyvern with two little front legs and wings. He's biting the tucked-under tail of the animal in front of him. I originally assumed that one would be a dragon but he's apparently four legs and a tail, and perhaps more of a lion. He's spewing out foliage and does not look best pleased at his tail being nipped. The circular scene fitted nicely in my new long sketchbook:

 

From the NLS's amazing map website

This is the 6 inch 1884 map of the village. Sometimes I wonder if a little bit more prior research could be a good idea... we had no idea this Motte was here, so close to the church. It must surely explain something - maybe this spot wasn't so remote as it might appear. It's called 'Aston Tump' and the Scheduled Monument Record  says it was constructed in the 1130s - a timber castle. There's a stream which flows down the hill here, forms a little moat round the motte and then pops out by the church - we stood and watched the water so doubtless we'd have noticed the 6m high motte if only we'd been expecting it! Never mind. The CRSBI page for the church suggests the carvings are also from the 1130s. So that's rather interesting. I am treating myself to a copy of Thurlby's book on the Herefordshire school which they cite.

Southrop, Gloucestershire

The main attraction at Southrop surely has to be its amazing Norman carved font, with its symbolic human figures, lettering, buildings and detailed patterns. Perhaps I was overwhelmed by it, but I gave it a go. You'll notice that for once I was sensible and focused in on the detail. Even so, it didn't take long to find out the detail was pretty detailed. It's got that characteristic that we both like to seek out... that is, patterns that are repetitive, but slightly dissimilar in each repetition. Even in the tiny extract above you can see differences on the right and left (it's not just my careless drawing).

But I wasn't a huge fan of the carvings of figures. Maybe I'm just not used to them, as they're unusual and B and I both like the Romanesque classic flora and fauna and geometric forms. But the thing I didn't really appreciate was the violence. The carvings are supposed to be the Virtues overcoming the Vices. But I'm not sure it's very virtuous to go stabbing or thrashing or trampling people. And I always say everyone needs a vice, I'm not against vices per se. So I found the carvings a bit unpleasant and so didn't feel that inspired to draw them.

So there I am in a church with one of the fanciest Romanesque fonts in the area, and I don't really like it. In fact I'm more drawn to the capitals in the porch. Of which this is one. And it's got zigzags, swirls (volutes), round bits going into square bits, and those boudoir trifle biscuits at the bottom. That's more like it.

There was a nice bit of beading on the chancel pillars as well, with saltire crosses and a wheaty band - really rather simple and kind of Anglo-Saxonesque.

The font at Southrop is quite uncharacteristic of the sculpture we've seen before. Maybe Norman times were indeed full of knights slashing at each other but that's not the image one gets from toothy dragons and swirling foliage. I wonder whether the creator of the Southrop font was working to a brief or whether it was a topic they felt strongly about and got Really Into. Nearby Stanton Fitzwarren (scene of a visit last year foiled by a locked door) has a very similar font, doubtless by the same hand.

I think B may have taken photos of each 'window' of the font. I feel as though I should go through each one and try to analyse what they show. But it seems a little too unpleasant for now.

We'd had an excellent bright autumnal day in the Cotswolds in the Van, and it seemed a fitting final odyssey for the year.

Coln St Aldwyns, Gloucestershire

Oh how I love a nice dragonny headstop, and the church at Coln St Aldwyns (whilst being a bit Victorian and bland for the Romanesque connoisseur) has two excellent ones, which are considerately sheltered in the porch.

It's got a dog-style nose reminiscent of the top quality examples at Elkstone, Leonard Stanley, or our recent trip to Somerset's more distant Dinder. Its teeth are excellently large and bitey, and there's some good runkling along the nose and around the cheek. The ears are quite small and cute but it's got an intense expression in that eye. There was something strangely bumpy between the ears. I wondered if was a devilish horn, but I think there was only one of them... it was a little bit odd as the rest was so clearly carved.

There was another similar animal on the right-hand side of the door, which B drew. But as usual I was becoming a drained wimp with all the concentration of drawing the one above. This can be disappointing when the carvings are so excellent :)

Quenington, Gloucestershire

It's been getting noticeably difficult to draw on our last few excursions, what with dingy weather and shortening days. So B and I thought we'd make a final trip for the year to a few further-afield, but bound-to-be-good sites. I'd scribbled some notes on a bit of paper and we leapt into the Van. It always feels like more of an expedition if you take the Van.

Having arrived at Quenington, anticipation was high but we consumed some snacks to raise blood sugar for the drawing ahead. Nevertheless I was still confused when we stood outside the amazing doorway - weren't there supposed to be beakheads? Our favourites the beakheads?  The door was amazing though - absolutely huge and with so much decoration it was as if someone had gone a bit mad and couldn't stop adding to it.

 

There was too much to draw and I felt overwhelmed. I was rather taken by this foliage-spewing animal (a green animal as opposed to a green man, you might say). There were also some borders of big flowery designs:

As we read the information booklet from inside the church, I realised that there were beakheads after all. But they were around the doorway on the other side of the church. OMG there are TWO DOORWAYS?! We walked round to be met by an equally elaborate and quite crazy sight. How can one church have so much Romanesque marvellousness? It was entirely overwhelming. I could only draw a little more. You could come back here every day for a year. 

The tympanums (tympani?) both had human figures on them. But when faced with so many creatures and excellent patterns, who needs Romanesque people? I think I know where my current interests lie (and this was confirmed later at Southrop).

Doulting, Somerset

There's not much at the church in Doulting that speaks of great age, other than the two capitals on the north door. And they were very nice albeit simple. Unmatching, of course (and just how I like it). The left one now reminds me of something I saw Mary Berry and her sidekick make on the tv the other day (a passionfruit and lime charlotte russe). The right hand side design has an organic foliate feel. Perhaps it echoes something of the amazing liverworts we were to see imminently.

Because coming out of the hillside below the church is St Aldhelm's Well, a holy spring. It's only a short walk, along a be-treed path and between stone walls down a steep lane.

CC image by Kerryn

I wanted to visit it especially to check out the mosses and liverworts there. Which were lush and rife, and much squealing was heard. The water was so clear and cold, and the noise of it splashing down out of the big stone trough was so continuous and soothing. It was just a superb spot. I felt invigorated by being there.

People were filling big water containers and carting them away in their cars, presumably to Benefit from its springyness and sanctity. So I figured the water couldn't be that full of nasties. B and I both took a mouthful. It certainly had its own taste, but it was hard to say of what.

Lullington, Somerset

We've not been to Lullington for ages, but I was flicking through a book this evening and a photo I'd taken there fell out. So I thought it would be a good stress-reducing plan to draw from it. Our last trip out didn't include as much drawing as it might.

So here are three of the amazing beakheads that surround the elaborate doorway (illustrated here).

The carver must have really enjoyed making the creatures' mouths curl round the roll in front of them - they've often made much of their wrinkled upper lips!

You can't beat a good beakhead but it's the way the carvers usually surrounded an entire arch with them, making each one different, that makes them worth travelling a long way to see.

It seems that Wiltshire's not very replete with them. Only Chirton springs to mind right now. Otherwise, the ones we've seen have mostly been in Gloucestershire.

Blackford, Somerset

At St Michael's in Blackford, these two deliciously spirally columns frame the doorway. One has spiral chevrons, the other is twirled by a single line. Naturally they're both carved a bit wonkily, which makes them all the nicer. And naturally they're of Norman date, so among the oldest parts of the church.

You can see a photo of the doorway on the CRSBI website. The columns both 'disappear into the floor' without a foot; and the CRSBI call them 'en delit' which apparently means they're not carved from the same block as stands behind them. But whatever, I think they're very slim and elegant and the spirals are lovely. I like the way the Norman carvers were perfectly happy to have a different design on either side of the doorway. I don't think you'd get that kind of asymmetry in any other era. They clearly match and are of the same ilk, but they're different. It's good.

Here's a little sketch of the font, which is superbly squat and short - tub shaped with only a little bit of moulding around the top to decorate it. It's rather symmetrical and very pleasing in its simplicity.

Knook, Wiltshire (II)

Image copyright Rhiannon 2015

Hankerton, Wiltshire

Drawn image copyright Rhiannon 2015

Spring seems to have arrived at last, and so feeling Springy it felt time to get out around the county again. Although B and I rarely saw a soul on our travels last year, everywhere was very busy. A friendly churchgoer chatted to me as we walked along the path to the porch where the dragon doorstops are. He did kindly invite me in for the church's coffee morning. But I didn't feel it would be polite to join the people chatting inside when they were there for a different reason. It did feel rather rude not to, when I was gratuitously enjoying their dragons. But I wanted to spend time drawing not chatting. Such is the dilemma of the heathen artist.

He pointed out to me that similar dragons can be seen at Malmesbury. And in fact B and I have seen them elsewhere too, like Leonard Stanley and Elkstone. And I have to say it, the ones there are actually better. The pair at Hankerton seemed a little bit half-hearted in comparison. Maybe they're weatherworn - maybe that porch hasn't always been there, maybe the carvings have lost some depth. Even so, I'm not sure they're as detailed as the LS / Elkstone ones, nor as exuberant.

The drawing above is of the right hand dragon, and the photo below of the left hand. The lines are simple and the (short) ears and eyes are not decorated. But the teeth are done quite deeply and carefully. They could probably take your finger off should the dragon came to life.

For those that like gargoyles there were lots around the tower, and they looked large and excellent. But far too modern for me :) I was intrigued by the thing below though, which was in the churchyard. Has it got the look of a font base or a stoup? Surely too huge for a column base. And is it resting on the lid of a table tomb? I don't know. It was curious though.

Photographs licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.

Coulston, Wiltshire

We couldn't get into the church at Coulston, which was a shame, and there was no information about where to get a key. But perhaps it didn't matter because most of Mr P's promised interestingness was outside.

In the south side of the building is a Norman doorway with a lovely golden round arch. On each side is a capital with little volutes (a bit eroded). But curiously, although there are these capitals, there aren't any columns underneath them. And it doesn't even look as though there were any - that is, there's no mark on the stone to suggest they've been whipped away. But I suppose there must have been once.

The poor arch looks rather neglected since someone's seen fit to pile up a load of plastic chairs underneath it. It looked strangely surreal, so I didn't feel as outraged as I might. But to most people it would surely look a bit rubbish. I don't really understand, because I don't find anything very interesting about all these brash Victorian rebuildings of churches. And so if you've got something left of the interesting past, of the beginnings of your church, why wouldn't you look after it? Maybe the congregation would say that there's more to their church than the building, in fact that the building's probably the least important bit. I dunno. It was a bit disappointing to see, anyway.

But another truly interesting thing outside was the spring coming out of the hillside facing the archway. As we stepped gingerly across the marshy ground towards it, we were watched closely by many eyes. The spring is inside a deer park and a couple of stags and many female deer lined up on the ridge above us. We seemed very interesting to them for some reason.

The water runs into a pool where there was a lot of watercress. Then we could hear it heading under the path past the church. The area had a special and rather strange air. It was hard not to think of elfish pagan things and whether or not the site for the church had been chosen in relation to this water.

(An interesting though morbid little snippet, is that the murdered child in the Victorian 'Rode House' case (recently retold in 'The Suspicions of Mr Whicher'), is buried in this churchyard. The family previously lived at Baynton House nearby, and the father's first wife is also buried here).

Images copyright Rhiannon 2014.

Castle Eaton, Wiltshire

Images © Rhiannon 2014

Kencot, Oxfordshire

This is the excellent Norman tympanum over the doorway at St George's in Kencot. You don't expect to come across an astrological symbol on a church. I don't really understand what it's doing there. But then so many of the symbols seem quite obscure. I like Arthur Collins' 1914 Symbolism of animals and birds represented in English church architecture. But even he doesn't make any particularly convincing suggestion. He does say that Virgil had centaurs at the gates of hell. But to be honest they were probably on the side of the baddies, not there to put arrows down the devil's mouth, as the carving below suggests. And an archer is mentioned in Revelation 6:1-2. But he was sitting on a white horse, rather that being half man half horse. So I still have no idea. But I like the carving anyway and I liked the style of the lettering (and we haven't often seen writing at all).

I was quite pleased with this effort. In fact I sent it off with some others to be printed on postcards. I did notice 'Sagitarius' wasn't spelt right but I thought it was ok because that's How It Was. I'd stood there and copied the style of the writing really carefully.

Actually that's How It Wasn't. I just didn't notice there was another T between the centaur's head and the bow. My sister enjoyed pointing it out to me. This is a bit of a shame.

Images © Rhiannon 2014