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It was
fully ten years since I had last cycled
this way. Not much had changed, as you
may imagine. The church is still marooned
in its neat little graveyard, a hundred
yards or so from the nearest road, and so
I got off my bike and pushed it up the
path - not from fear of meeting anyone
coming the way, I hasten to add, but
because I wanted to savour the serenity
of this enchanting place. However, the
large medieval structure now in use as a
barn in the farmyard to the south of the
church shows that this was not always the
silent, remote spot it is today. Until
the Reformation, there was a large priory
here, and the surviving building was
probably its refectory. The church was
appropriated very early on, and served
jointly as parish church and priory
chapel. Curiously, this church is
built almost entirely of red brick, the
only one in Suffolk of its period that I
know. The nave is rendered, the tower
truncated, and the chancel renewed; but,
there it is, a red brick medieval church.
The truncation to the tower is capped in
a pleasingly rustic manner, and there is
an interesting memorial set into the
south nave wall for a member of the
Garneys family, who we have also met at Kenton. It remembers John
Garneys, who died in the winter of 1697,
and was put in place by his grandson
Clere of Hedenham in Norfolk.
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The Victorians
were busy here, and not much has happened since.
There is a feeling of being perfectly poised
between the 19th Century with its manners and
heirarchies, and the more mysterious ancient,
rustic heartbeat of Redlingfield down the long
generations. The lack of coloured glass fills the
interior with light, and the overwhelming sense
is one of simplicity.
There is a good
15th century font, although the lions and
wodewoses around the stem have had their heads
battered away. There is a large piscina in the nave south wall.
One thing I remembered from ten years ago was
that this church has taken its dedication to
heart, and the community have decorated its walls
with pictures and icons of St Andrew. There is a
St Andrew flag to the west, and even a greeting
from Prince Andrew framed in the porch. St Andrew
is a popular Saint in Suffolk, as he is in all
maritime counties, but I'd not come across
anything like this in an Anglican church before.
However, I couldn't see the fishing net, complete
with cork floats, which I'd seen on a bench at
the back ten years previously. Perhaps it was a
relic.
The old Redlingfield village
sign stands in the porch: there is a new
one at the junction a couple of hundred
yards to the north of the church. The
porch also contains the village stocks -
they are hidden beneath a bench in the
porch, and you might miss them. They
contain two sets of four holes, set some
distance apart, as if the prisoners might
not prefer each other's company. Mortlock reminds us of a
sad story of the monks and nuns of
Redlingfield, which struck a chord with
me at the time because I was reading
Hilary Mantell's utterly compelling Wolf
Hall, a fictionalisation of the life
of Thomas Cromwell. At the dissolution,
the members of the community were given
twenty four hours notice to leave, and
turned out into the world with not much
more than their faith to keep them
company.
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