This beautiful church was a welcome discovery during a Sunday afternoon ramble. I was delighted to find Peter, the church warden, on site and grateful for his permission to explore inside. What appeared to be an unremarkable entrance led to some of the most intricately carved Norman stonework I have ever seen in a small parish church. The archway—featuring a striking tympanum—is a truly remarkable hidden gem.
As the daughter of a builder, I have always been fascinated by buildings of every kind: their construction, their past lives, and the craftsmanship involved in their creation. Ancient architecture and stone masonry hold a particular pull for me. The skill, artistry, and dedication poured into these structures continue to captivate me, and I feel fortunate to have visited so many extraordinary examples of our architectural heritage.
For me, nothing compares to the rich tapestry of history that our country holds—history that waits quietly to be discovered. Throughout the centuries, elements of our heritage have often been challenged or altered. The most significant of these upheavals, of course, was the Reformation, the effects of which can still be seen across Britain today. My own “architectural history hunts” have taken me to many places where, thankfully, traces of the pre-Reformation world survive.
Inside St Edmund’s, some original, centuries-old woodwork still remains. Sadly, much of the church’s historic statuary and ornamentation was destroyed during Henry VIII’s religious reforms, when such pieces were condemned as wasteful or idolatrous. This loss included the original pews, which were replaced with plain, functional benches. Only a few of the originals survive, identifiable by their carved Tudor roses—perhaps preserved for that reason alone.
Churches like St Edmund’s are remarkable survivors of numerous historical conflicts and changes. It is a genuine privilege to photograph what still endures and to share it with others who may never have known these treasures existed.
