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On the
map, this appears a tiny, remote place,
down a narrow lane lost in the hills of
south-west Suffolk. This
pretty little church sits in an idyllic
little churchyard in the rolling hills to
the north-east of Haverhill. The setting
is intensely rural, spoiled only by the
vast meat processing plant visible beyond
the trees in the valley below. There is
no tower, and the bellcote-surmounted
tiny nave makes this appear a dolls house
of a church. It is pleasantly Victorian in
character; this belies the fact that we
are on a hill-top in a circular
churchyard, and so probably in an ancient
place. You can make out the towers of two
other hilltop churches from the edge of
the churchyard. Perhaps
uniquely for this part of East Anglia,
this church is kept locked without access
to visitors. The churches on the
Cambridgeshire and Essex sides of the
border are all open, the Suffolk churches
tend to be locked with a keyholder
notice, but here even that hope gives
out. It
feels a rather unloved place, although
recent notices in the porch suggested
that it hasn't been abandoned completely
yet. I have gone into eloquent
detail elsewhere on this site about what
it means if a parish keeps its building
exclusively as a posh venue for the
Sunday club, so I won't bang on about it
here. Suffice to say that I assume they
will never apply for any grant aid.
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The
most interesting thing about Little Wratting
church can be seen from the outside. This is the dedication stone
placed above the south door, within the modern
porch. The writing appears Saxon, although the
meaning is unclear. Such things are common
elsewhere, but most unusual in East Anglia. It is
not beyond possibility that it did not come from
here originally, but was purchased by some
enthusiastic antiquarian and put in place when
the church was restored in the 19th century. The
door beneath is probably 12th century, wood, iron
and all.
| We had to use a magic wand
to get inside. The interior is rather
gloomy, and has that slightly shabby
character you find in those churches, and
other places of course, where they know
there aren't going to be any unexpected
visitors. The large box pew surviving at
the west end sits below the war memorial
and was lined with wreaths, although it
was rather cluttered with junk as well.
There are some medieval benches to the
east of it, and the view east is
dominated by a surprisingly successful
early 20th Century chancel arch, which I
think must be made of concrete. An image
niche is set in it, and the little screen
within is most elegant. One great curiosity
is that there is a fragment of arcading
set in the north-west corner of the chancel, just beside the
chancel arch. This is a tiny survival of
a chantry
chapel that once stood to the
north of the chancel, dedicated to the
Turnour family, but demolished in the
early 18th century. The kneeling woman on
a fragment of stone that sits on a window
ledge is probably from one of the Turnour
memorials. |
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