Glemsford

St Mary, Glemsford

I made my way down from Bury St Edmunds, weaving east and west as I did so, from the plain of Westley and Ickworth, through the sheltered valleys of Rede and Whepstead and the more substantial hills of Boxted and Hartest, and then down into the Stour valley, my bike's speed gathering, in Larkin's words, to the surprise of a large town - well, a large village, anyway.

In terms of population, Glemsford is one of Suffolk's largest villages, and it is quite an industrialised one. Recently, the old weaving mills have been revitalised as factory units, which sounds awful, but restores a link that goes back to the 15th century, when this village was at the heart of the Stour valley cloth industry.

Late Perpendicular wraps Decorated tower on a beautiful Summer evening.

I arrived to find the church locked without a keyholder. But I felt I had myself to blame - it was after 6 pm, and few churches are open at so late an hour.

It was a beautiful early evening in Summer, so I took myself for a walk around the outside. The glorious porch is one of Suffolk's best, a frisson of flushwork and Marian imagery. The chancel retains two dedicatory inscriptions around the tops of its walls, like those at nearby Long Melford. One starts on the south, the other on the north. But here, the opening words of the inscriptions have been chiselled out by iconoclasts, either in the 16th or 17th centuries. They almost certainly said Pray for the Souls of as at Melford, where it has been restored.

The south chancel wall, with the dedicatory inscription to the donors. See below for detail.

There's a grand 14th century tower, but otherwise this is fine, typical Suffolk Perpendicular, with a gorgeous clerestory rising above substantial aisles. There is spectacular flushwork, but also the unknapped flints of Victorian enthusiasts. Was this an indication of what I might find inside?

The start of the inscription. Notice the removal of 'Pray for the souls of'.

And so it continues. The entire inscription can be read as [PRAY FOR THE SOULS OF] JOHN GOLDYNG& JOAHN (buttress - to next photo) HYS WIFE THE FOUNDERS OF THIS CHAPEL AND IYLAS (aisles). A further part has been erased - possibly LORD HAVE MERCY?

I decided to try and track down a key. It wasn't so late, and I'm a fairly harmless-looking kind of person. The Rectory address was on the church noticeboard; but this was pretty useless, since it gave no instructions how to get there, and I didn't know Glemsford at all. However, after about twenty minutes, and two sets of conflicting directions from passers-by, I found what I thought I was looking for, about half a mile away, on the main road. I didn't see the sign on the gate, so I knocked on the door somewhat uncertainly.

"Hello! Is this the Rectory?" I asked the person who answered the door. She nodded, and went off to find the Rector.

Maybe it's just me, but CofE Ministers so often have a wary, harrassed look when they come to the door, as if they live their lives under seige from people like me. I suppose that they never really know what to expect. Who am I? Have I come to join the parish, or arrange an aunt's funeral, or even beg for money? That I might want to look around the church must come fairly low down on the list of possibilities.

I never phone Vicars (they always have the answer machine on) so it must be rather startling to find a wild-haired cyclist at the door who's come all the way from Bury, and wants to go inside the church. Now. So, could I have the key?

Well, no. But he'd meet me at the church in about twenty minutes. So, back I pedalled, becoming rather familiar with Glemsford's main street.

I'd guessed that I'd arrived after lock-up time, but it turns out that the church is not kept open - or, at least, it wasn't when I visited, in August 1999. The reason? Simply, that no one can be found to open and close it each day, which I thought rather sad. It is ironic, but the larger the village, the less central its medieval parish church is to its sense of identity. This church manages a congregation of 30 or so, more than many a Suffolk village church. But no one seems to want to be the keyholder.

As I chatted to the Rector, I gazed around at this big building. Like its neighbours, it was clearly a product of, and testimony to, the huge industrial wealth of this area in the 15th century, despite its more recent Victorian scouring.

The inside is bright, attractive; rather overneat, if anything. Most unusually, the arcades do not match. One is higher than the other, an indication that the aisles were built as part of slightly different projects.

The roof above them dates from the 1870s, as does that in the south aisle. But that in the north aisle is the medieval original, and very lovely. Probably, it was completed right on the eve of the Reformation.

It is at its best in the chapel at the east end of the aisle; unfortunately, this is the one part of it that you can't walk under, since it is that difficult area, where the organ pipes huddle.

Bigger than many a Suffolk chancel, this is the simple chapel at the east end of the grand south aisle.

In front is a children's chapel, which is a nice idea. Presumably, the decalogue boards that were put there recently are to try and get them to behave - after all, that was the original intention when these boards were introduced to churches.

That difficult area, the north aisle chapel. Somewhere in there, there's a fine medieval roof. Note the decalogue boards, moved here from the chancel. If the children ever learn to read, they'll have to start behaving themselves.

The chapel in the south aisle is much prettier, with modern chairs, which always seem to look good in a medieval church.

There is a rather battered old font, but it has a gorgeous representation of Mary at a prayer desk, presumably part of an Annunciation scene. And the fat bull of St Luke is rather jolly.

But there's not much evidence of this building's glorious past.

However, I'm still bound to ask how such a significant English church can be kept locked. What kind of an act of witness is that? It's not the Rector's fault - he has half a dozen parish churches to look after in his scattered benefice.

And in this large place, there is still a demand for what one senior Anglican has called the 'core business' of CofE PLC - the Christenings, weddings and funerals.

But there has even been a decline in demand for these, particularly the weddings. The shrinking congregation here is perhaps symptomatic of something wider - the rapid marginalisation of the Church of England. Now, this is either a tragedy or a challenge, depending on which way you look at it. But a first step might just be to get this great building open, and in use again, on a daily basis.

Holy Mary waits for the angel, and a jolly fat bull of St Luke takes flight.

St Mary, Glemsford, is off the B1065 in the heart of the village. Glemsford is between Melford and Clare on the A1092. You'll need to get the Rector from the Rectory.

Don't forget to also visit the excellent Glemsford website!