I’d seen him a few years ago, and welcomed the chance to see him again, the repitition didn’t matter, the memory faint, the desire to be invited to stop, and look again at a building passed far too fast so many times.
Roy immediately instilled in us the ancient history in which we were inhabiting. This building is unique. (Virginia will like this, he said). Every one, every church is a character. Blyford is no doubt 1,000 years old. In the doomsday book it was recorded here with 12 acres around. Simon Knott describes it as a church over shadowed by the giants around (Blythburgh, Westhall, Wenhaston)
Outside, we are invited to look again at the magnificent flush work, ‘Superior to even that of Norfolk’ Roy interprets the windows. The Norman Y’s the Perpendicular. The porch, with the horses head, a handsome gargoyle.
The Blyford Treasure, was unexpected. A tudor oak wood table. This was first seen by Roy on his moped /motor bike all those years ago, after he’d fallen in love with churches from the age of 4.
And finally, the most important thing, Roy said from the pulpit. Not a piece of perpendicular, but gratitude for being invited here, to the people who tended this church with care, for a church kept open.
Kalikellett 