Guess what I've got inside? Surprises in the Lothingland peninsula.

Sir Ninian Comper and others have designed and installed an Anglo-catholic vision of a pre-Reformation liturgical space. It is very sumptuous, a little outrageous, often amusing, and just the teensiest bit camp. For the medieval historian, there is very little evidence left, but even that old traditionalist Munro Cautley did little more than be grumpy at what has happened to this church. And John Betjeman loved it.

Something vaguely original in the middle at the bottom. Still, who cares. This is about triumph, and is as eternal as the British Empire.

The screen depicts the rood as 'a tree of glory'. The heraldry is also a little unorthodox, blending the vicar, bishops, and favoured members of the royal family. The altar with its picture of the three Marys exhorts us to pray for the welfare of the vicar - not his soul, since he wasn't dead yet.

The whole thing is rather less delicate than the more restrained work of the period at Kettlebaston.

Countering the screen, at the back of the church, is the amazing organ-case, also of 1913.This is a curious mixture of Baroque and High Gothic. Comper justified this with an argument of "unity by inclusion", which must have been a useful weapon. The inscription is from Psalm 150.

The organ it contains is a particularly fine instrument, according to Basil Rollason. A two manual by Harrison and Gibson, it has 18 stops, and was completely restored in 1996.

In between, the magnificent golden font cover attempts to out-Ufford Ufford. And on the north wall here, in his traditional position facing the south door, is Comper's St Christopher, a jolly bearded fellow showing a fair amount of leg. Comper put in a little self-portrait - he's the one driving the Rolls-Royce on the left bank. When the painting was restored in the 1960s, a jet air-liner was added, above Christ's head.

Well, you either like all this, or you don't. Me, I love it. I think this one of the key texts for understanding the mindset of that triumphalist generation on the eve of the First World War. This is the Oxford Movement at its highest moment, in every sense. One needs to see this, to be convinced of how influential that party was, and the effects the terrible war would have on ecclesiastical confidence.

Comper's best work here, perhaps, is not inside the building at all, but outside, set in the south wall. This is his post-WWI war memorial, which must have seemed very unusual and restrained in comparison with the vulgar classical cenotaphs elsewhere. But at this distance, we can see that it was more influential than any of his celebratory work inside. It is one of Suffolk's major pieces of inter-war public art.

In this area of round towered churches, St John the Baptist's tower is rather restrained in comparison with its neighbours, rugged Blundeston and feminine Ashby. And Lound itself is a humdrum place, basically outer Lowestoft suburbia, before the marshes set in.

Unity by inclusion. Just as long as it doesn't look ridiculous, then.

Comper escapes in the Silver Ghost before St Christopher lands a foot. Meanwhile, jet engines rip up the sky.

The great and inaccessible roodloft, surmounted by dragons. Shields and heraldic devices include those of King George V and Queen Mary - oh, and the vicar, who paid for it.

St John the Baptist, Lound, is off the B1074 between Lowestoft and Belton, about a mile north of Blundeston. It is always open. See MAP