Hardington Bampfylde, North Somerset

If you wanted a journey to epitomise 'Wiltshire Wandering' it could be the one to Hardington Bampfylde (except it's not in Wiltshire of course). What I mean is that it requires scrutiny of the OS map to find this excellently named location. And then we're rumbling along the main road thinking 'is it this little turn? nope... must be the next one... OMG HERE IT IS' with a sudden dash down into a little lane. Followed by the immediate sensation that the busy everyday world is left behind, and now you're properly in the country, with rolling fields and hedges both sides of the narrow road, and the sensation that something interesting lies ahead. Plus, we found ourselves diverting off this road onto a track, heading uphill across dung and into a farmyard. The little church stood amongst the farm buildings. It was an entirely promising sensation. A good place to begin today's wanderings.

The church is owned by the Churches Conservation Trust so there was no trouble opening the door. It had a peaceful damp air and with its Georgian woodwork felt remarkably authentic and unmessed with. The chancel arch looked simple and Norman, and straining a bit to fall outwards. I see Mr Pevsner says it's not medieval. But who knows. He only had his eyes to go on like we did. And it looks pretty good to me, it's certainly the right style, and I don't see anyone aping the Romanesque in the rest of the building, it's all pointy windows. So I'm going for it, personally.

Also in the Norman department was the amazing chunky font. I tried to draw it. The proportions came out wrong in disappointing fashion. When you've got such a simple design, the proportions are everything. It makes you realise what beautiful aesthetic sense these sculptors had nearly a thousand years ago. B and I always love to see another example. I think it's safe to say we're obsessed connoisseurs of them.

Also there were drawings on the wall opposite the door, in red - faces and twirls and vegetation. I wonder how old these are? Clearly it would rather depend on the wall. I wonder if it would ever be possible - maybe not from the style, which you'd imagine would depend a lot on the hand of the artist. But maybe from whatever the paint is derived from, or... I don't know. Anyway I enjoyed trying to copy some of them.

Minstead, Hampshire

B and I were both truly appalled by the outcome of the referendum, and hoped that our long-awaited trip out would soften the blow a bit. I decided we would go a bit further afield than normal and see something really good. So we made it over the border into Hampshire and found ourselves among the massive oaktrees and soothing greenness of the New Forest.

Naturally I'd not packed the right map, and it didn't help that at the edge of Minstead the road was unaccountably shut. We took a pleasant but fruitless walk into the village and spent our lunch ranting about the referendum on the picturesque green. A detouring drive later we finally made it to the church (Minstead is much longer than you expect when you've not got an OS map).

The church presents a very strange higgledy-piggledy prospect.

Minstead church, CC image by Trish Steel

In retrospect I think it also looked strange to me because it's brick, and we're used to our quarry being in older-looking stone churches. Once inside we found there was even another added room to the south. But I didn't even explore, because the font had been spotted. And It Was Good.

The Minstead font is chunky and four-sided and replete with excellently bold carving. As you'd expect, there was some explanation in the church about what the carvings are, and what they represent.

CC image by Maigheach-gheal

  But I like to prevent brain contamination, and try to have a look and a think before finding out how others have interpreted them. We've seen a lot of fonts now (though not enough as intriguing as this) and it's interesting to see if there are any familiar patterns or motifs.

That doesn't necessarily help interpretation I suppose, as I don't share the cultural environment of a Norman stone carver (fonts our speciality. ask for our latest offers). But I can recognise a few things - like the lovely Lamb of God. It's always so jauntily portrayed in the Norman era. And despite some suggestions in the church that this font is Saxon... don't be deceived. Victorians used to say stuff like that because they thought such carving was "primitive" and so must be earlier. Maybe it was the influence of Darwin's theory of evolution. But we know Saxon carvings aren't like this at all - they're twirly and knotworked. Never mind.

I liked the lamb's long body, stretched out a bit to match the shape of the font. But the animal's identity was instantly recognisable by its bent back foreleg.

Perhaps it's surprising that we haven't seen more LoGs on fonts, because they're very apt. It seems that the phrase "LAMB OF GOD" appears only twice in the bible, both in ch.1 of St John's gospel. This seems a shame as it's got a ring to it (though symbolic lambs do appear elsewhere). John is baptising people and he spots and recognises Jesus because he's got a pigeon on his head. Or at least, it does say he saw "the Spirit descending from heaven like a dove, and it abode upon [Jesus]." And so John goes, "Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world".

Likewise, and according to this amusingly-written blog, Life in the Middle Ages,  baptism washed away your own sins. People tended to get baptised when they were adults, because it meant you could get the maximum number of sins dealt with in one go, rather than doing it young and then having to confess a lot. But note that you had to get it done or you'd be going to HELL. No-one wants that.

But onto the other sides. Which are considerably more peculiar to the modern eye.

Well the blurb in the church suggested this side had eagles and a tree, and related it to OT Ezekiel 17. Well, maybe. The text has two eagles in it, they've planted a plant and they're hoping it's going to grow. It's a riddle, an allegory for something that's happening (it says this at the start of the chapter). But it doesn't seem to have anything to do with baptism. It seems a bit of a random passage. I feel very sceptical.

What's more, I am quite sure that these birds have two heads. This doesn't help much because the double-headed bird / eagle is a very old symbol and a scout about the internet doesn't help at all about its meaning or origins. But there we are. That's what I saw. The thing in the middle could be anything. It's not particularly planty. You could even see it as a figure. I dunno.

Next up, the Cheshire Cat. With not one, but two un-catlike headless bodies below. Not convincingly attached to the catface in any way. There are no cats in the bible apparently. But we've definitely seen enough Norman catfaces to know a catface when we see one. We saw a lovely cat on the font at Stottesdon. Cats have gained a bit of a reputation for consorting with witches and being a bit evil. (When I catch the pair that have been crapping on our lawn there is going to be trouble). Who wants something evil looking at you when you're getting baptised? It seems a bit weird.  Lullington has cats on its amazing font and also carvings of creatures with two bodies and a shared head. The one at Avening is also strikingly similar. But the latter are on corners, to make a bit of an optical illusion. The carving on the Minstead font is flat and rather different. (The suggestion in the church, relating it to Isaiah 11.6 is, I'm afraid, first class piffle, and I think you'll agree). The animals have got lovely poised legs though, and fit nicely into the shape available.

Finally the side that faces you on entering the church. The suggestion in the church says 'Our Lord's Baptism'. Although you will recall John wrote about the pigeon etc, he somehow forgot to mention Jesus's baptism. But the other evangelists fill in. (It amused me that the Wikipedia page about this says 'This article is about the historical event. For other uses, please see...'). As you may read  it's a similar story though - a dove descends and a loud voice (God, that is) says 'You are my Son'. There's an excellent illustration in this 14th century psalter. John the Baptist is applying talcum powder I assume.

Disgracefully borrowed from the Morgan Library. I apologise.

Now does that fit with what we can see... I don't think it does. I'm not even convinced that's a person being dunked. You can see wiggly lines that could be water. But there's only four wiggly lines - shouldn't they be limbs? Jesus wasn't a baby when he was baptised. And that middle figure would have to be holding the poor child by its ear. It is without doubt, confusing. I wonder if he's just pouring water out of a vessel. Hm.

The figure on the left could be wearing a gown with floppy sleeves (not unlike those on the font at Chirton). Or is it an angel with wings? The one in the centre holds a staff with a cross. And the one on the right.. is that a towel? (Here, have a towel. thanks). It's a funny shape whatever it is. And is that a wing? Or a shield?

I'm none the wiser. Perhaps it doesn't matter.

The church leaflet says the Rector's gardener, Henry Abbott, was doing a bit of digging in the late 19th century, when he found the font buried in the shrub bed. Perhaps it was buried to protect it from the idiotic iconoclasts of the reformation. But it has returned victorious! And was given a new pedestal in 1893. Hoorah.

Cholderton, Wiltshire

After the disappointment at Tidworth, we couldn't finish on a bum note. So we took in one more, at Cholderton. The church is on a rise at the top of a short, narrow lane.

The modern font was pretty dull, but our quarry was on display near the door. It's been a bit thwacked about so I suppose it's considered too rough for dipping infants into. I don't know. Sadly it was so close to the wall we couldn't see all its trumpety scallops. Because they were all pleasingly different as far as we could crane about.

Somebody had painted the most superb list of the church's vicars, but it seemed curiously pagan / fortean, with its devils and dragons and snakes and suchlike. But I liked it with its bright contrasty lapis lazuli style blue, gold and red.

I noticed here that it sounds like until recently the font was outside in the churchyard! Probably put there when they rebuilt the whole church in the 19th century (such a familiar story). So a massive thanks to whoever brought it inside and gave it a sturdy new base. Something c800 years old deserves a bit of respect does it not.

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.

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.

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 :)

Leigh upon Mendip, Somerset

Recently I've been aware I've been admiring the Organic Forms of our lovely Norman fonts. You may think it mad but I've been known to give them a little pat, because they're so solid and rounded.

But this one... well the official description is that it's scalloped. But let's face it, it has definite bum-like qualities. This is not a bad thing. And surely this couldn't have been lost on the sculptors.

"What would you like for your font then?"
"Well I don't know really, what can you do?"
"I've been doing a very nice line in Scallops recently. You could go for lots of scallops, or maybe just the simple version and have just a few."
"Oh yes let's go for the few then."
"Ooh yes I've got just the thing in mind. (Heh heh)."
"??"
"Nothing, nothing. I'll send you the invoice in due course."

When we first came in I thought the design was straightforwardly square with two scallops per side. But at the corners, when you ducked down and looked carefully underneath, you saw it's got a kind of concentric chevron thing going on. And that added a special touch I thought.

The rim was a bit bashed - the usual result of presumably removing the lock which was once added to it. The cover, in depressingly predictable fashion, was fairly vile.

But it's nice that the base is round, contrasting with the square bowl. It was definitely another pleasing font.

Holcombe Old Church, Somerset

Holcombe Old Church is in the sort of place we like, i.e. it's at the end of a long and winding narrow lane following a sudden handbrake turn off the main road. It's signposted too, making a useful and pleasant change.

Mr P. mentions the Norman carvings of the doorway, but I'd also read of the church in Rosemary Cramp's book on Anglo Saxon carving in South West England ( you can read the relevant section here at the moment). That's because a part of the stone that makes up the right hand capital (which you see below) is inscribed with letters. You can be pretty sure it's reused rather than contemporary with the capital, because the writing is upside down for one thing.

The lettering has a definite Style to it. Cramp says "The letters are boldly but unevenly incised, and some letters are finished with serifs or the expansion and deepening of terminals." By which you may infer that it shows an individual's hand, but they've gone to a bit of trouble to make it look fancy.

I was going to draw it but I was getting tired and the light wasn't very good for picking out the details. I took a crayon rubbing of a bit instead. Yes yes I thought about the frowns I might get for this (you'd certainly get frowns if it were prehistoric rock art). But I've done it now and here is the little bit I did:

There's much conjecture about what the whole thing says (or said) - it's probably in Latin but a lot of letters are missing. And it's suggested 'PROT' could be at the beginning of the inscription because it's apparently preceded by a little cross. Or at least, it's the first line that survived (now the lowest since it's upside down). Cramp has the lettering transcribed as follows:

[+P]ROT[R] ---
--- AT [...]
EIE [L.]A[V]--
C:PET[R]A[.]--

It's sad that I'm not organised enough to be able to vouch for any more than the PROT. But I'd like to defend myself by saying that I like the element of surprise and also that I don't want my mind to be influenced by prior knowledge. With lettering, you might decipher it in a certain way because you are expecting it to say something particular. And with carvings more generally, you might be inclined to See what you're told to see, and even miss things that you haven't been told about.

More concise information can also be found Lapidge's 'Anglo Saxon England v21'.

But lettering is never really as exciting to draw as a lovely spiral column with fancy Romanesque capital. And those spirals are a treat in their unevenness. I like the way the blocks aren't evenly sized and the stripes don't match up properly, and they even change direction. Is that because someone moved them and put them back together weirdly? Wouldn't that have been somewhat lazy? I like to think they how they were intended. But who knows.

Another strange thing to note about the columns is the curious beaky toe on each one. I think we've seen similar things before (maybe Marden?) - but maybe not just single ones like that.

Chesterblade, Somerset

Chesterblade is very little and the roads are narrow. But as I tried to abandon the car in an inappropriate spot, a very nice woman offered me the use of her driveway. This was very kind. I might have given her a funny impression with my pleading 'oh I just want to see the church'. But it was the truth, albeit not inspired by religious sentiment.

Here's the font. It was plain but pleasing, like a giant beaker, or a clay pot that had been made on a wheel. And of course, slightly wonky. It was sitting skewhiff on its unevenly shaped base. And it had a nice simple cover, none of that fancy tasteless business.

I read the blurb in the church leaflet about it and it was very strange. The back cover featured an alleged drawing of the font, and it had a band of twisted rope design around it about two-thirds of the way down. The leaflet explained how an Artist in the 1840s had drawn it so, but later the design had been removed. Youwhat? There was not a trace on the font to suggest any such vandalism had taken place, it was smooth and lovely. It seemed to make no sense at all. That someone would go to such trouble to remove a totally inoffensive design, and then go to extreme lengths to make it look perfectly smooth - yet (and here's my clincher) - do a completely botched job on the place where the lock used to be at the top. Not to mention to then sit it wonkily on a funny shaped base? So. Frankly, I don't believe a word of it. It certainly gives the impression of being in its original form.

It's true to say that B and I not infrequently get confused about names and what was where and when. We try to label our drawings as soon as we've done them, whilst still in the church. Even then, we're sometimes asking ourselves 'hang on, where are we again?'. And that's with maps and Pevsner and the internet and everything. It doesn't seem unbelievable to me that the 1840s artist had a big sheaf of drawings and got confused about which came from where, and mislabelled one of them.

That's my opinion anyway.

Outside in the porch were two super capitals, the chubby face above (with ears and beaded eyebrows) and the lovely to draw twiddly design below.

There were also two creatures at the headstops of the arch. But I thought they were very cramped as they were very small, unusually small in our experience of such things. You can see pictures on the CRSBI website. I wasn't taken with them. They don't look Romanesque to me, but I shouldn't argue with the CRSBI should I.

Also on that page you can see photos of some carvings we totally missed. We're usually quite thorough and have a stroll round the outside of the buildings. But we must be getting slack to miss not one but two carvings with faces and animals. B will be saddened to hear that one of them was a Lamb of God (you can tell by the characteristically bent front leg, which usually supports a cross). They haven't quite got that bold touch that I like. But I'd still like to have noticed them! Maybe another time (pending parking opportunities). There's a photo of the other carved stone here.

Dinder, Somerset

It seems that dragons are well known in Dinder. There's a local legend about the Worminster Dragon or Worminster Worm. 

This issue of Dragonlore gives some details from an account in the Wells Journal. "During the 1200s, Dulcote, Dinder and North Wootton were troubled by a dragon living at Worminster Sleight, who breathed fire, scorching fields, trees and sheep. The people called on the Bishop of Bath and Wells, Bishop Jocelyn, for help, and he rode out alone to find the beast. The details of his confrontation vary depending on who tells the story. Some say he killed the dragon with a lance, others maintain he struck it down with his bare hands. In either case the dragon ended up dead  - but the story doesn't end there. It seems that before it breathed its last it bestowed a curse and if the villagers ever forgot about the monster it would be able to return to life, and its chance for reincarnation would come every 50 years."

So every 50 years the villagers have to do something Dragony, and the last time was in Dinder in 2001, when a giant model dragon was paraded around and then set on fire.

But I've seen no connection made (on the internet at least) between the carved creature above and the dragon. The lovely carved creature is actually two animal heads, joined by a short length of zigzag / balled arch-iness, and it sits high up in the chancel in Dinder's church. The friendly woman who was cleaning the church went we arrived, pointed out that the stained glass window below it featured St Michael, the patron saint of the church, as if to highlight the importance of both.

B and I were not convinced of their dragonyness (much to the surprise of the aforementioned woman) - largely due to their very doglike noses. The noses were really very well observed. Whereas you'd imagine dragons would have lovely flaring nostrils. Admittedly, dogs do not have a row of little pellets down the middle of their heads. And the ears of these creatures are remarkably long. Yes they do indeed look like some of the other dragon heads we've seen elsewhere. It seemed clear to us that originally the two would have been headstops on a door or chancel arch - at least, that's where we've seen such things before, and they must have been saved and reused. And they're very nice, so why wouldn't you.

Here's a mosaic of the Other dragon created by Kate Rattray - it's near the bishop's palace in Wells.

CC image by Frankly PM

Bishop Jocelyn (or Jocelin) was indeed around in the 12th century. So that's kind of interesting that that's the same period as our lovely Romanesque carvings.

The only picture I can find on the internet of the carvings are on this rather eccentric website which tries to connect it with ley lines. Well if that's what floats your boat, we all have our niche interests don't we.

Etchilhampton, Wiltshire

We'd come to visit the Norman font. There's a drawing on this page of the WANHM journal but it doesn't really do the scallopyness around the bottom justice - it's a bit more complicated than that. I can appreciate it was difficult to draw though because mine isn't right either. There's a kind of double thing that should be going on. You can see much better on the photo on B's blog.

 
It's definitely been given a new round base since that drawing in the journal. The 'top base' (if that makes any sense at all) is definitely wonky, which of course I appreciate. There was also a little cross scratched in, and I think the round mark I've drawn was an indication of where the lock used to be. I'm starting to realise that the hacked-aboutness of a missing lock does at least affirm the great age of the font.

On another note, if there's something that really winds up my O.H., it's place names that aren't pronounced the way you'd expect. According to another ancient volume of the WANHM, Etchilhampton is 'Ashelton'. That was 1867 though and perhaps things are different now, who knows. There was a man mowing his lawn and I was going to ask him about the clouds of mining bees that were inhabiting the verge next to where we parked. But he didn't look like he wanted to talk to Strangers. I don't even think we look that dodgy.

Stanton St Bernard, Wiltshire

This is the font at Stanton St Bernard. It's not St Bernard's church though, it's All Saints. Which is slightly peculiar. I can't find why the village is St Bernard's. And we saw no St Bernards dogs either.

The church looks disappointingly sterile from the outside, rebuilt by a Victorian vicar. Were these churches really all falling down as badly as they always make out? Or was it some kind of job creation scheme / backhander for the local builders. Who knows.

Inside, most people's eyes will be drawn to the huge mural that covers the end of the nave, with Jesus sitting over the chancel arch. It's very unusual, very Art Nouveau. You can read a bit about it in the Trilithon magazine. It was painted by Maude Berry in around 1900.

But we were more taken by the font and its superb pleats. We're learning that sometimes Mr Pevsner didn't seem to be paying much attention to our beloved fonts. In this case he said "Circular, Norman, with a top band of flat zigzag and a wider band below which seem [sic] to be C19." Mr Pevsner, no no NO. The whole thing is beautifully proportioned and balanced - if you imagine it with the pleaty area unpleated, and just part of the straight bowl, it wouldn't look right. But more convincingly - the clinching thing as far as B and I were concerned - the pleats are the usual delightfully off-kilter style that we know from so many other Norman examples. Why would have a Victorian person have messed with the font, and then cut it wonky? It seems very Norman to us.

The pleats were not easy to draw - a classic example of how Knowing what you're looking at means you can't See. You may think we're crackers but I think I can truthfully say we both felt rather fond of this font by the time we'd sat there staring and struggling for so long. It's an interesting variation of a lovely simple zigzaggy design.

Monkton Farleigh, Wiltshire

The capitals either side of the door at Monkton Farleigh are Norman. The left one has quite flat trumpet scallops (or that's how they look to me), with some overlapping upside-down arches along the top. The right has a creature's face on top of the column. It might be my current obsession with the curious phenomenon of Anomalous Big Cats, but I wonder if it has a feline look. Maybe it's only the little diamond in the centre that reminds me of a cat's tongue. It may well be a tongue - we've seen lots of faces sticking their tongues out. But it certainly doesn't have cat's teeth, they're square and not half as toothy as the ones at Twerton. No, it's probably not a cat at all. It's got lovely repetitive arches over the eyes. And it's quite strange but I do like it. It has an ancient air, an ancient expression. There's an old photo of the whole doorway at Bath In Time.

Images © Rhiannon 2014

Bromyard, Herefordshire

En route elsewhere, B and I stopped in Bromyard to check out the Romanesque carving at St Peter's church. I'd been super-organised beforehand and looked at the church's website - it said encouragingly that it was usually open all day. But it's so rare that we actually bump into anybody that we were a bit taken aback to find the car park full and the sound of jolly Christian singing in the air.

I'd missed the page that said the churchgoers were becoming a Missional Community. Which is lovely for them of course. And (quite seriously) I am very glad that someone's looking after this amazing building. And even (despite my cynicism) probably, that they're using it for its original purpose. I guess. If I sound mean it's only because the mindset of a Missional Community could not be further from my own. It's not that I disagree with the idea of local community, or being charitable, moral, kind, decent and helpful to others, not killing people, refraining from coveting your neighbour's ass or any of those other sensible Christian tenets. It's the other bits about believing in Jesus as the Son of God and a virgin, who died for your sins in a horrible way on a cross, the bits about angels and devils and Noah's ark and the bible being the inspired and direct word of God, oh and the resurrection. No amount of missional communitying is going to get me to go for any of that.

Here's St Peter and his keys. You can see a photo by Matthew Wells on Flickr.

So we wandered around the outside of the building admiring the lovely carvings, which in some way seemed even nicer for their slightly softened eroded look. At the front door another wandering touristy pair walked past us and into the church. We could hear them being offered alcoholic drinks. It struck me as a bit odd. I suppose Jesus liked a drink, after all he did turn water into wine. But it smacked of a bribe. Or maybe 'what do heathens like drinking? I know, booze. That'll lure them in.' Or a way to relax the unwary so they could be talked to persuasively. I dunno, it was just a bit odd.


We sooo wanted to see the font, it looks smashing. You can see the lovely carvings on the CRSBI website (one side is swirly, the other side an alleged tree of life).

But I felt a bit like a vampire unable to cross the threshold. The Pimms-clutching pair emerged from the church almost immediately, looking vaguely bemused. We decided not to go in.

Images copyright Rhiannon 2014.

Christian Malford, Wiltshire

This font was truly lovely, so squat and solid, with quite a complicated geometric design. I particularly liked the tiny zigzags around the top. I think it's one of my favourites yet. Duncan and Mandy Ball have a photo of the font on their very detailed website.

The church was light and airy and had seats with extremely comfortable cushions. Extremely comfortable.

(And after the Upavon Font-Sniffing Incident, I suddenly noticed the same smell here. Not half so strong. But strong enough that I pressed my nose to the stone. It was there and I don't know what to make of it. Other than guessing that it could be something to do with incense? I feel confused.)

Images © Rhiannon 2014

Upavon, Wiltshire

Curiously, the area around St Mary's unusual Norman font seemed to smell strongly of weed. Maybe it was the furniture polish. But the rest of the church didn't smell of it. It was notably weird. There wasn't any stashed in the font (I felt I had to check).

But more importantly, this font has an unusual eight exciting sides to draw, including two with some pretty amazing and fantastical creatures. There is one geometric side, one with what's said to be the Anunciation (an angel, a woman and a dove), and the rest are fantasias of foliage. Am I getting too carried away? Possibly. But it was a particularly concentrated burst of Romanesque-ish sculptural goodness.

This one could be a leopard - and check out his teeth and claws. Or conceivably, Ms Lion, to Mr Lion below.

 This panel is surely a lion because he's got such a furry head. But it's such a shame that you can't see his face, it seemed to have been chipped off. The more charitable explanation would be that the carving was so detailed that it kind of fell off. But it's still rather a shame.

Also with the putative lion was this truly crazy creature, like something from Hieronymus Bosch's imagination. I've read that it could be a sphinx. Or maybe a dragon. But to me it looks like a plucked chicken with a huge mouth, that's just eaten someone, and that's their head still in the creature's mouth. It's marvellously mad.

Up next, gloriously freehand foliage designs:

There are two more which incorporate foliage and cross symbols:

And here the nested chevron panel:

The detail on the so-called Annunciation panel didn't come out very clearly on the photo I took. To draw more than one or two things in situ is very tiring, it takes a lot of concentration! I can see a dove (the holy ghost?) and maybe Mary with a cross. She could be carrying a baby, but that wouldn't fit very well into the idea of the annunciation! Sometimes she's depicted spinning, but I'm not sure it's that, and sometimes it's a book, but it didn't look very book-like either. Gabriel (for it is he, if we are dealing with the Annunciation) also has a halo, and maybe has wings and armour-plated shoulders. It's quite difficult to say. Their faces in particular are very worn - they look a bit like Aliens. The plant in the middle has leaves that look a bit lilyesque. That would fit with other contemporary depictions - the lily being a symbol of Mary's purity. The angel is definitely holding something, and this is referred to as a sceptre in descriptions of other Annunciation depictions, but here it isn't very big, so maybe it should be called a wand, which sounds decidedly peculiar. But let's face it, the whole idea of the Annunciation is decidedly peculiar (unless you're a paid-up member of Christianity).

My drawings are a bit wonky, but then so are the carvings. I can only find one photo online, at the British Listed Buildings website, and curiously it doesn't show the most interesting faces of the font. There are so many photos of cats online, and (so I understand) of people in states of undress. But only one photo of the excellent font at Upavon. And that's just how things are in the world.

Images © Rhiannon 2014