And so, we come at last to the last of the modern Borough of Lowestoft's twelve surviving Anglican parish churches. Of course, you might not be reading these entries in the order I visited them - and why should you? Suffice to say, then, that one Summer Saturday in the year 2000, I cycled 26 miles around the Borough, visiting all 12, from Pakefield in the south to Corton in the north, I travelled from the most easterly church in Britain, Christ Church, to Oulton and Carlton Colville in the far west, and back to the grand, historic parish church of St Margaret. I also visited the sites of two desparacidos, St John and St Peter, and two Catholic parish churches, St Nicholas and Our Lady Star of the Sea, as well as any number of Methodist, Baptist, United Reformed and even Elim Pentecostal ones.

As they say, I have done Lowestoft.

And in doing so, I have come to a matured appreciation of it. There are bits of it I really quite like.

Kirkley is one of them. Seven of the Borough's churches, including Kirkley, are medieval; although it would be more accurate to say of some of them, again including Kirkley, that they are of medieval foundation. There was a spectacular 19th century restoration here.

From the north. The terraced houses are contemporary with the body of the church. Note the curious, possibly ugly, clerestory windows.

The church, then simply dedicated to St Peter, had been abandoned in 1680, after more than a century of neglect. The parishioners moved in up the road at Pakefield, but when the two parishes there were combined, and the dividing wall was opened up, there was no longer room for them. So they came back, patched up this church, and suffered in it for the next 120 years.

However, by the 1870s, when Lowestoft had expanded and engulfed the parish, the time had come for a total rebuilding. Another church, the now demolished St John, had been built in the parish ten years before. But this was not enough for the huge population, so St Peter was built anew between 1874 and 1876 by the architect John Clemence. All that survives of the medieval church is the heavily restored tower, which once stood at the west end, but the new building was extended southwards, putting it at the north-west corner.

From the north, it looks conventional enough. But on the south west side there is a delightful surprise; an apsidal baptistery, the work of Thomas Porter in 1893. This is quite unfamiliar in Suffolk; on an Anglican church, anyway. There is something similar at St Edmund Catholic church in Bungay.

Like all churches, this one continues to reinvent itself. When St John was demolished in 1976, it took on the current dual dedication.

These days, the word 'Kirkley' is roughly synonymous with that part of coastal Lowestoft south of the river, which isn't entirely accurate. The main road to Ipswich is a ratrun through the parish, giving it an urban scale beyond its size, as if it was some little-known district of London. Off this parade of anonymous grocers, newsagents and kebab shops we find ourselves in a pleasant residential suburb. Towards the sea, the houses are enormous. This area is known as Kirkley Cliffs, which sounds dramatic, but is actually a rather pleasant seaside resort, usually referred to as Lowestoft Beach. Lowestoft's are the only beaches in Suffolk to win Blue Flag awards, and are of a beautiful golden sand; why people would rather go ten miles up the road to seedy, be-littered Great Yarmouth beats me.

He was also, perhaps, the first establishment gay figure to openly win acceptance, and he is buried today beside his partner for 40 years, Peter Pears, in the graveyard at Aldeburgh.

I walked around St Peter and St John on its little hill, surrounded by pleasant little terraced houses. They must have been built at about the same time. The church looks abandoned from this aspect, but I took this to be merely another manifestation of the urban shabbiness that Lowestoft seems to rejoice in. In fact, the noticeboard at the east end, facing Kirkley High Street, shows that this is a lively parish.

Something's going on. The view from the east, with noticeboard. Note the off-centre tower.

However, the church was locked. I wanted to see the wrought ironwork inside the baptistery, I wanted to see the stained glass; I wanted to see if there was any memory of the Brittens inside. His mother played the organ here, and so must he have done, as a child. It is a particularly fine instrument, according to Basil Rollason, being one of the few four manual organs in Suffolk. O this occasion I would have to go without, but since my visit, Kirkley has a Rector in residence for the first time in years. He lives in the Rectory beside the church, and I am told that he would be happy to show people around - although beware the story in the postscript at the end.

I stood in the scrubby churchyard, feeling a bit fed up. However, I was cheered immensely by being recognised by a man walking through.

"You're that bloke who's visiting all the churches, aren't you?" he said. "What do you think of this one?"

Having just read Mortlock, I called it to mind, and gave him a brief guided tour of the outside. He thought for a moment.

"So, you're saying it's not as old as it looks?" He seemed perplexed.

"That's right", I assented.

"Oh," he said. "Ah, well."

And so, we went our separate ways, him reflectively towards the shops, me feeling slightly guilty for having disappointed him.


Postscript: Peter Stephens, a friend of the Suffolk and Norfolk sites,writes: "I was also unable to get into Kirkley. The Rector is a very strange man! Even by the time I got home I was still wondering what was the matter with him. He was very friendly and chatty, smiled the whole time I was talking to him, but he just would not go and get the key. I first noticed him quietly trimming a hedge in the garden of the house next to the church. Finding the church locked - what a surprise! - I sauntered over to him and said, ' I gather this is the place to come to for the key to the church.'

'Ah, well, no, not really,' he said.

'It says 'Rectory' on the gate.'

'Yes, but it's not strictly so.'

'Do you mean it's a private house now?'

'Oh, no.' He paued, then rather reluctantly said, 'You see, well, I'm the Rector actually.'

'Good. So could I please borrow the key?'

'Well, no, it's my day off.'

'But surely I can just borrow the key?'

'I'm afraid I've got to get this hedge cut.' He observed me studying the small amount of hedge he had to cut and said, 'If you come back on another day I'll happily make you a cup of tea.'

I felt like saying, I don't want a cup of tea - I want to see inside the church. Now what's the problem? I said, 'I don't live round here.'

'Oh, what a pity! Where have you come from?'

'Norwich.'

'You're just here for the day then?'

Yes.'

'Well, do have a lovely day.'

'I'm trying to. But I'd like to see inside the church.'

'Of course. You could go down to the High Street - no, he's closed today. And both the churchwardens are at work - well, not work as such. They're away.'

'But surely you have a key?'

'Well yes. But why don't you give me a ring and, as I said, I'll give you a cup of tea?'

What is this with the cup of tea? I almost blurted out. I didn't want a cup of tea. I wanted to see inside the church. But I remained cool. He was, as I said, very friendly and chatty and the dialogue was much longer than I've suggested here, but mostly repetitive. I tried a different approach. I thought I might appeal to his better nature through romantic association.

'I got married in Lowestoft,' I said.

'Really?'

'Forty years ago tomorrow.'

'Well, that's very good. Do have a lovely day, and let me offer you my congratulations. Which church?'

'Well, we'd have liked Blythburgh, but certain difficulties in the life of the bride's father at the time regrettably had us land up at the Registry Office.'

'Oh, nothing regrettable in that. Forty years is a long time. So many big church weddings end up with the couple separating in less than a year sometimes.'

'Absolutely. But my problem is that it's difficult for me to get to Lowestoft. Couldn't I just see inside the church now?'

'I'm afraid I really do have to get this hedge cut.'

I gave it up. Looking at my watch I said, 'Well, I see I've already detained you from it for twenty minutes,' leaving him to draw the conclusion that it would have taken him about two to step inside the house and get the key. And what did he say?

'Do give me a ring next time you're this way and, as I said, I'll be delighted to make you a cup of tea.'

I departed on the verge of screaming. And to think, I still have the pleasure of the fellow at Oulton ahead of me!"

St Peter and St John, Kirkley, Lowestoft, is located in the south of the town to the west of Ipswich Road. It is locked, but the adjacent Rectory has the key. However, make sure you don't go on the wrong day!

The photograph of the young Benjamin Britten is taken from the superb Benjamin Britten - A Biography by Humphrey Carpenter, published by Faber and Faber, 1992. It is not copyright of this site.