'Shrouded in the mists of time' is an oft repeated phrase. On the occasion of this Ragged Ramble, I have to say it was very apt. Located in the grounds of Melton Constable Hall, to the south-west of the village, stands the church of St Peter. As we approached Aunty Gary let out a huge roar of approval; a cue for a fanfare of 'huzzahs!' from us all.
In particular, the wonderful stout Norman tower pleased us immensely. It has stood here for around nine hundred years, like a gnomen of a sundial, or the standing leg of a compass - a constant presence; a fixed point. The mists only added to this sense of timelessness.
We had intended to find a key holder and explore inside; and, indeed, we did frighten a local household just up the lane, who refused to answer the door to us tweed-clad explorers - despite Aunty Gary's pleading. However, from the moment that Maximillion suggested that he spark up the stove, our minds were transported on wafts of bacon-scented reverie, and we never did get that key...
However, if you are interested in taking a peek inside, take a look at this piece by the ever-wonderful Simon Knott:
St Peter, Melton Constable
HUZZAH!
~ Esotericus ~
Pray, do tell - what are those finger trails in the mud in the video? What have you been doing?
ReplyDeleteDear Mr. Churlish,
ReplyDeleteI am afraid to report that Aunty Gary experienced an apoplexy and had to be restrained using string and brown paper. In the course of this non-too delicate operation, he had to be dragged towards a quiet place by Maximillion and myself. Thankfully, mesmerised by the sizzling bacon, he was soon restored to his version of normality, and, indeed, was soon dancing a jig!