Gisleham

Holy Trinity, Gisleham

In the late Spring, Suffolk has few greater delights than cycling around the narrow lanes between Lowestoft and Halesworth. If you avoid the main roads, you wallow in a lost land of scattered farms, little hamlets and mainly round-towered churches. There is hardly ever a car.

And in Spring, the verges of the lanes are high in wild angelica, its vivid light green found nowhere else in nature. The birds sing, the hedgerows are alive with rosehip and hawthorn flowers, and there's hardly anywhere I'd rather be.

Holy Trinity across the Spring-green fields.

Because the hedgerows still survive around here to a great extent, large vistas are rare, and churches may appear as a surprise, suddenly, around the next bend. An OS map is essential for cycling out here, especially for would-be church visitors, for they are often away from their villages, and sometimes the villages no longer exist.

But Gisleham is a fine village, despite the march of Lowestoft over the fields towards it. The first sight of Holy Trinity is delightful; tree surrounded, across the fields.

As a harmless eccentric, I'm used to being followed into churches after about five minutes by suspicious locals, who pretend to be putting up a notice or rearranging the flowers, when clearly they've just come in to keep an eye on me. I'd been pleased to find this lovely church open, and doubly leased by the wall paintings, of which more in a minute.

I was photographing them when a very jolly fellow popped his head around the door. "Halt!", he cried. "I've come to make sure that you're not stealing anything!"

Mr Scollard is one of the churchwardens, a man who clearly loves his church, and who was delighted to talk about it, particularly about its growing congregation. "It was down to single numbers, but we're up to thirty or so now." This is no mean feat for a village church these days, and I told him so.

The church is in a benefice with the large parish of Kessingland, as well as the nearby tiny church of Rushmere St Michael, now used only infrequently. The system seems to be working well for Holy Trinity, which tends to host the benefice's quieter, less formal services.

Mr Scollard also gave me an amusing rundown of the vicars since the mid-19th century, which the demands of space and the laws of libel forbid me from repeating here. But it was very funny.

The Saxon tower, with its octagonal 15th century belfry.

the angel-flanked niche.

Holy Trinity is one of north east Suffolk's many round-towered churches, and this one is truly a delight, with its late Saxon/early Norman base surmounted by a 15th century octagonal brick crown, similar to those at nearby Mutford and Ashby. Above the porch entrance are the remains of a 15th niche, flanked by censing angels.

This was defaced by iconoclasts in the 16th and 17th centuries, but the major damage occured when a sundial, now gone, was fitted in the 18th century, slicing the angels in half. It is a grand, spacious porch, home to the Easter garden when I visited.

The door into the nave is most curious, hinged up the middle so that only half of it opens. As we shall see, it is curious for another reason.

Inside, everything is Victorianised, although very well done nonetheless, in a good, vernacular style. The church has large, wide-splayed windows, and the nave and chancel are full of light.

The great treasure of the church, as I said, is the wall paintings. These are figures painted in the eastern splays of windows in the north wall. Neither has been fully identified.

Mortlock thinks the western one is St Ursula, on the strength of the arrow she carries. But I think it is not an arrow, but a flower.

The easterly one is identified as St Dorothy by Cautley, but Mortlock thinks it might be the Annunciation. And I think he's right.

Given that both paintings are in the same style, I wonder if they are part of a series of the Joyful Mysteries of the Rosary, which would make the first painting not a saint at all, but possibly the Visitation - see the way the figure holds her cloak open, and the flower against her breast.

I said to Mr Scollard how good it was that the church was open, and how important this was as an act of witness. "Well, we like to keep the church open", he replied. "We think it's important, and it is an act of witness. But the main reason is that the door hasn't got a lock on it." And he was right; the lock had been removed at some time in the distant past, possibly during the 1860s restoration, and never replaced. "The insurance company said it was alright, because there's nothing worth stealing", he grinned.

Wall paintings in the north wall. Notice the way the roof beams disappear into the ceiling.

And, again, he's right. Everything moveable is locked away, all furniture is bolted securely to the floor. The microdot security system is in operation, allowing any item to be identified. It is safe, secure and sensible, and consequently Holy Trinity can be as welcoming as it is possible for any church to be. Perhaps one day all churches will be like this. After all, it is worth bearing in mind that locked churches are more subject to vandalism than unlocked ones. Holy Trinity is certainly safer like this.

The Visitation?

The Annunciation?

Gisleham is pronounced with a hard G, Gizz-lum rather than Guys-lum or Gizzel-ham, both of which might seem more obvious pronounciations to an outsider. It is also not to be confused with Gislingham in mid-Suffolk.

"If you send us one of the photographs, we'll pay you for it", my friend said. I assured him that payment wouldn't be necessary. "Well, in that case", he grinned again, "Can you take one of the Easter garden too? I tried it myself, but the photo didn't come out right."

Good people of Gisleham, if you are reading this: The photos are in the post. Thank you.

Holy Trinity, Gisleham, is located on the outskirts of Lowestoft, beyond Carlton Colville. It is signposted from the A12 at Kessingland. It's open.