Mr Pevsner had the right idea. He always went back to his bed and breakfast at the end of a hard day's fonting, and he wrote his notes up after supper. He did this because he knew he'd forget things if he didn't. I've been very slack of late and it's a shame because the brain really doesn't remember things for very long. And yet our fonting trips are such a special and important part of my existence. They keep me sane. They are the things I do in the gaps between the necessary evil of going to work. They are actually what I'd like to be doing. When the Youth go on about YOLO (they probably don't any more, it's probably passe) they're probably talking about chucking themselves off bridges with a bungee or backpacking through the Congo. But I'm not bothered about those things, I know what floats my boat. It's geeky but it makes me calm and happy - it gives me a buffer for all those annoying moments in my job. It is (as Jonathan Meades once said) "anoraking about" with a Pevsner.
Avington's quite a trek, it's over the border into fairly uncharted territory (Berkshire.. this is the Wiltshire Wandering blog after all). I don't like doing too much research before we go somewhere, because I like to be surprised. Sometimes I sneak a look at the CSRBI to check how many millimetres the font is across (no no I don't, don't be so unpleasant). No, sometimes I do check the marvellous resource of the CSRBI to see what's Romanesque. Pevsner wasn't always as detailed as he might have been about our favourite type of sculpture - he had a lot of other things to get through so I don't blame him. But Avington is a Norman extravaganza.
There is something to be said for knowing where you're going though. I hadn't even got the right map. I mean I had got the right map somewhere (it was at home) but it wasn't one of the half dozen or so in the car. My other half used to joke that the maps in the car were worth more than my car. It's probably still true (I don't care). So B and I drove down a dead end road to Avington Manor, not realising that the church wouldn't be in sight. I'm fine when I have an OS map, it's like my all-areas pass at a festival - I can stride confidently knowing that I'm perfectly entitled to be on the public footpath. But without one, I get all peasanty and deferent and don't like marching up the extensive drive of manors in case someone appears with a shotgun. It's paranoia. Luckily B could use the modern technology of her phone to locate the church and we trotted on. I need to get with the 21st century but at some level I'm scared of getting totally addicted.
The church at Avington is in a totally dreamy location - an overgrown meadow near the banks of the river. There's no laid path and barely any gravestones. It's just sprouting in this wild quiet spot. We could hear a cuckoo calling. It could have been any era you liked really. It's a weirdly timeless spot.
The south doorway has perfectly solid and interesting Normanness. When you're eager to see what you expect inside it's easy to overlook the scrolly leaves, zigzags and column patterns you'd be delighted to see anywhere else. The doorway even has the tonguey, almost 'protobeaks' on the columns which we've seen at other Wiltshire spots with top-quality carving. So these features clearly indicated there were treats in store inside.
On entering you see the font - it's been hacked about a bit, but most of the figures are still clear. The font reminded of Chirton (with its saints and arches), but the figures are more complex here. It's more difficult to see what's going on and interpret it. There's hours and hours of drawing enjoyment in the font.
But it's so hard to concentrate when the chancel arch is so fantastic - pretty much in an unprecedented fashion for us, as the super-wide arch had 29 beakheads all across the chancel side, and tongue-poking animals all across the nave side, two characters to each block of stone. Whoever saw so many creatures? It was truly crazy. And to add to the craziness, there was even evidence that more beakheads had been on arches springing up into the centre of the chancel - they'd been cruelly cut off or taken away. There were more creatures than one could know what to do with. It was stupendous.
And there was even more Romanesque interest - two faces biting at the columns either side of the chancel arch, and in the corners behind the altar, a superb cow-face and cat-face. Weirdly, the CSRBI doesn't mention these at all, but they're superb and characterful. The Church Blurb suggested these were an ox for Saint Luke and a lion for Saint Mark. But who knows if that's true. They're great carvings regardless.
I found the amount all a bit overwhelming but drew a little. I need to spend less time fiddling on computers watching nonsense and spend more time creating satisfying art from these superb carvings. Pictures to follow.
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