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Bredfield is one of the
pleasant villages west of Woodbridge. I remember
cycling through here on late Summer
evening in the first year of the
millennium, and seeing men and women in
grey and white wandering down to the
bowling green for a match against another
village. Blackbirds were singing; the sun
was low in the sky behind St Andrew,
dappling the restless leaves above the
churchyard. It was the end of a long
day's bike ride, and it felt the perfect
place to be.
I'd first come here about
five years previously; this was one of
the very first churches I visited on my
journey around the county. I came into
the church to find one of the PCC
checking a survey on behalf of the
historic buildings commission. They
wanted to know if the surviving remnants
of the canopy of honour to the rood were still in
situ. And so they were - rather faint
now, but under the lovely roof you can
still make out the IHS and AMR monograms.
There's another fabulous
roof in the porch. Although it was
rebuilt by Diocesan architect Richard
Phipson in the 1870s, he retained what is
effectively a tiny hammerbeam roof of the
late 15th century.
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You
never know what to expect when you step into a
church, even if you have been there before, and
on this occasion I was surprised to hear a rich
tenor voice intoning an old Irish song as I
turned the handle and opened the door. He stood
under the chancel arch, and the words tumbled and
filled the tight little nave, echoing for a split
second and then dying swiftly. It was enchanting.
I stood still, not wanting to break the spell. He
came to the end of the verse, and the silence
fell again like dusty light from the windows. We
chatted for a few moments about the church, and
then he was gone in a hurry. I don't know who he
was.
Phipson
was very thorough here, but there are a couple of
interesting survivals, most notably a set of
brasses to the Farrington family reset on the
north wall. Curiously, the children all appear to
have only one arm.
    
Predating Phipson's
restoration is an utterly charming set of four of
the Works of Mercy set in a window on the south
side of the nave. There is no maker's mark, and
Sam Mortlock, an expert in these matters, was
unable to identify it.
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most famous son was the poet Edward
Fitzgerald. Although more usually
associated with neighbouring Boulge, where he is
buried, he spent his childhood years
here. His great friend was the Rector of
Bredfield, George Crabbe, the son of
another famous poet. Crabbe's memorial is
set in the sanctuary wall. What most people
will remember Bredfield for is neither
Fitzgerald or Crabbe, but for the
elaborate wrought-iron canopy over the
village pump, with charming finger-signs
to neighbouring villages. It recalls the
workshop in the village which produced
gates and railings for Big Houses all
over East Anglia.
St Peter
is a delightful building, one well-suited
to a late summer afternoon, or perhaps a
bright spring morning. It is worth
crossing the living hell of the A12 from Woodbridge, and then heading
on into High Suffolk beyond.
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