View of the church along the churchyard path.©Carole Tyrrell

It was a glorious Easter Saturday this year and so I thought I’d go for a springtime walk in the Kent countryside near my home. On an earlier visit to St Mildred’s in Nurstead near Meopham in 2019, a local man had recommended visiting Ifield church which was just ‘a mile down the road’.  I assumed he meant ‘a country mile’ which may not be the standard length of a mile as we know it. I travelled to Meopham by train and then put my trust in Google maps.  I was feeling lucky that day…

Esater bunnies in St Mildred’s churchyard, Nurstead. ©Carole Tyrrell

Daffodils in St Mildred’s churchyard, Nurstead. ©Carole Tyrrell

As I sat in St Mildred’s churchyard I saw real easter bunnies pottering about who then adroitly vanished when they realised that a human was about. ‘Very wise.’ I thought and then set off to Ifield. The local ‘big house’ is Nurstead Manor which is across the road from St Mildred’s and it is surrounded by fields with some magnificent horses in them. St Mildred’s was closed but spring flowers were in the churchyard. Daffodils seemed to burst forth on one grave and there were patches of wild violets, purple and white. Spring was in full swing. Due to the lack of street signs, I hoped that I was on the right road when I took a left hand turn and walked on until I saw a sign. Along the road, on the verges, there were great patches of Lesser Celandine which is one of the seven signs of Spring.

Lesser Celandine on a roadside verge. ©Carole Tyrrell

 As I stood there wondering in what direction I should be going as there was no sign of a church, a passer by advised me to follow the signs to the lambing farm 100 yards ahead.

©Carole Tyrrell

©Carole Tyrrell

©Carole Tyrrell

Intrigued, I did so and, after paying £4, I was directed to a shed in which there was an assortment of lambs and ewes in pens.  Some of the lambs were only 2 days old and others were playful, climbing onto their mum’s thick woolly coats or having a kip.  But they were not destined for Sunday lunch as they were a rare breed, the Cobham Longwool, of which there are only 500 in the country. ‘So not for eating.’  the farmers wife comfortingly told another visitor which was a relief. I had held a lamb and felt a little guilty.  We were also shown their two pigs who were very lively and, after a pizza and being given directions, ‘It’s quite a way further on.’ I resumed my walk. One of her companions said as I moved on, ‘Oh she’s one of those people who like visiting churches, they’ll walk miles to see one.’

They weren’t kidding.  The road was empty, devoid of houses and cars and other walkers. It seemed strange to have a church so far out of town but I have become accustomed to isolated churches in North Kent.   Ifield is recorded in the Domesday 1086 and is a hamlet of only 12 houses with no sign of any shops and St Margaret’s is at the very end.  Unknowingly I was on the ancient village street, Ifield Street, which was an isolated empty road and unlit at night.  I can’t imagine too many late night services being held there during winter.

View over the fields from the churchyard. ©Carole Tyrrell

View of church from churchyard. ©Carole Tyrrell

Despite the website saying it was open daily, on my visit it was closed, which seemed odd at Easter. So, I was unable to see the interior and the remaining medieval features.  The nave and chancel date from the 13^th century and there is a 12^th century font.  It’s a quiet location although I could hear the endless traffic on the A2 that separate the church from the hamlet. Its rough stone walls are now covered by modern cement which makes it look younger than it actually is and gave it, in my opinion, a slightly American look. In fact St Margaret’s is known by the locals as the ‘Little church on the Prairie and I could see why as it’s surrounded by fields which contained tall yellow flowers which I assumed were rapeseed. By now the fields would be a bright acid yellow.  Quite a sight to see.It is thought that Chaucer’s pilgrims on their way to Canterbury would have passed by the church, and standing here in this isolated spot I could believe that the landscape might not have changed much.

War memorial just outside the lychgate.©Carole Tyrrell

Names inscribed on the memorial from the First World War. ©Carole Tyrrell

The impressive War Memorial just outside the lychgate dates from 1919 and originally commemorated the village’s fallen of the First World War.  There was

 ‘ a service of dedication for the memorial on 20^th June 1919 which was a week prior to the end of the First World War with the signing of the Treaty of Versailles.’

www.ifieldparish.org

It’s built of Cornish silver-grey granite and cost £120 at the time which was raised through subscriptions from parishioners.  Names from the Second World War are also inscribed on it and a full list of names is on the www.ifieldparish.org  website.

The churchyard contains mostly 19^th, 20^th and 21^st memorials and was a symphony in yellow. Dandelions abounded and these can be seen as symbols of astral bodies. The flowerhead in full bloom is emblematic of the sun, the dandelion clock is the moon and the scattering seedheads are the stars.  Lesser celandine was still there in abundance and near the lychgate there was a small patch of cowslips.  I also saw tulips and grape hyacinths.  

More Lesser celandine swarming over the churchyard.©Carole Tyrrell

A patch of dandelions. ©Carole Tyrrell

Grape hyacinths. ©Carole Tyrrell

Cowslips. ©Carole Tyrrell

More cowslips. ©Carole Tyrrell

There were a sprinkling of 18^th headstones on which pairs of winged messengers  and also an impressive winged skull could be seen.

18th century headstone showing winged messengers. ©Carole Tyrrell

18th century winged skull on a headstone. ©Carole Tyrrell

On this one, it can be seen very clearly what the departed’s hobbies or occupation was. A clear example of ‘the tools of the trade’.  And there was an unusual cast iron memorial to ‘our two sons’ on one headstone.

©Carole Tyrrell

©Carole Tyrrell

©Carole Tyrrell

This is the largest and most significant group of memorials and commemorates the Colyer Fergusson family who were associated with Ightham Mote, now a National Trust property. It’s a

‘medieval moated manor house roughly 7 miles from Sevenoaks’ according to the National Trust website.  Thomas Colyer-Fergusson, eventually to assume the title of ‘Sir’ when he assumed the additional name of Colyer in 1890 and his bride, Beatrice, set up home at Ightham in 1889 and were keen to make their mark on the house.  They were very forward thinking and introduced:

‘central heating, electricity and bathrooms connected to the mains water supply.’ Ightham Mote | Kent | National Trust

These amenities were undoubtedly appreciated by their retinue of indoor servants and gardeners.  In addition, the Colyer-Fergussons introduced the opening of rooms to visitors on one afternoon a week for the price of 2 shillings.  Octavia Hill, one of the founders of the National Trust was a visitor.

But the carnage and of the 2 World wars badly affected the Colyer-Fergussons.  In the first World War, Thomas’s second son, Billy suffered shell shock and the youngest son, Riversdale was killed at Ypres aged 21.  Riverdale’s death had a profound effect on Thomas in that he would not allow the gardeners to

‘make any changes to the garden, asking them not to cut back any plants or remove dying trees.’

 Ightham Mote | Kent | National Trust

During the Second World War, Max, Thomas’s eldest son, was killed in a bombing raid on an Army training school in 1940.

Thomas died in 1951 and Ightham Mote was inherited by Max’s son, James.  He had no children and was only too well aware of the huge expense that would be incurred in maintaining the house. So he sold it and its contents leaving it with an uncertain future and eventually it was taken over by the National Trust. The baronetcy became extinct with the death of the 4^th Baronet in 2004.

There is an obituary on the Kent Archaeological Society website to Sir Thomas in which he is thanked for his ‘patient and persistent work’ in transcribing parish registers.  This was no mean task as they were largely handwritten and not indexed.  He was very involved with the Society and eventually became its Vice-President. 

   

©Carole Tyrrell

The last Baronet, after this the title died out. ©Carole Tyrrell

And so here the Colley-Fergussons rest in this serene churchyard surrounded by the other departed villagers and parishioners and the Spring flowers that indicate Mother Nature is returning to life.  It was interesting to see a connection between Ifield and Ightham Mote as the house is one of my favourite places to visit and I based a short story on a particular painting on display there.

I retraced my steps back to Meopham and St Mildred’s churchyard resisting the urge to ask any passing horse and rider a lift for some of the way.  The clip clopping of horses hooves had let me know that there was an equestrian establishment close by. Already the long shadows of the early evening were racing over the fields but it had felt so wonderful to be outside and exploring once again after a long winter.

©Text and photos Carole Tyrrell unless otherwise stated.

References and further reading

History of St. Margaret’s Church | Parish of Ifield (ifieldparish.org)

Ifield St Margaret of Antioch | National Churches Trust

Ightham Mote | Kent | National Trust

Colyer-Fergusson baronets – Wikipedia

Obituary – Sir Thomas Colyer-Fergusson 1865-1951 – Archaeologia Cantiana, Vol. 64  1951  page 186 (kentarchaeology.org.uk)

St Clement’s, Hastings Old Town. Image from https://oldtownparishhastings.org.uk, image uncredited.

It was Mayday and I wanted to be outside watching people dancing for all they were worth on the West Cliff at Hastings.  The seaside town holds a lot of memories for me as my maternal grandmother had a cottage down there and we would have family holidays there when I was a child.

Hastings has changed a lot since then. It’s still a fishing town and the catch is still sold on the beach, fresh off the boats. But like a lot of coastal towns it became very run down when people started to prefer foreign holidays to traditional bucket and spade ones.

On Mayday, two lifestyles collide. There’s the 25,000 bikers on the seafront, parading up and down, and the Mayday revellers and Morris dancing up on the West Cliff. 20 years ago when I first came across it, it was held in the Castle but it then became too large for it and so the West Cliff is now its home. As you can imagine Hasting is absolutely packed until roughly 4pm.  The queue for the funicular lift up to the top of the West Cliff was even longer than usual and so I started to explore the picturesque Old Town.  St Clement’s attracted me as I thought I could explore the church.

It’s an ancient church and there may have been one on this site since 1080. It was rebuilt in 1380 and is the civic church of Hastings.  The other local church is All Saints and together they form the old town parish of Hastings.  A bomb dropped on St Clement’s and a nearby pub during the Second World War which inspired an episode of the TV series ‘Foyle’s War.’  It blew out two of St Clement’s windows.

But there is also an artistic connection in that Dante Gabriel Rossetti married Elizabeth Siddal here in 1860 and his sister, Christina, is believed to have worshipped at St Clement’s whenever she visited.  But alas, the church was closed on my visit and the churchyard was full of people enjoying themselves sitting on tombs and the church steps.

A profusion of wild garlic in the pocket sized churchyard. ©Carole Tyrrell

So I wandered on and then smelled something pungent on the breeze. ‘Wild garlic.’ I thought and so I followed it.  The pungent aroma led me to behind St Clement’s church and on the other side of a picturesque alleyway I discovered a tiny, pocket sized churchyard tucked into a corner. There was hardly anyone about as they were all wending their way up to the Mayday celebrations and it was so peaceful. This is part of the closed St Clement’s churchyard.

Bluebells in profusion contrasting with the white flowers of wild garlic. ©Carole Tyrrell

The only headstone that was slightly readable is on the left hand side. ©Carole Tyrrell

Close up of almost readable headstone. ©Carle Tyrrell

The steps in the churchyard through the lush plants. ©Carole Tyrrell

This could be a very rough hourglass. ©Carole Tyrrell

The churchyard with St Clements behind it. ©Carole Tyrrell

The alley between the churchyard and the church. ©Carole Tyrrell

The intoxicating smell of wild garlic was coming from the bountiful flowers inside the churchyard and  I was tempted to take a couple of sprigs home with me.   The white flowers contrasted with the abundant alkanet and blubells and headstones poked up from the mass of flowers.  One or two were faintly legible and I thought I could see a symbol on one but most were now weathered and illegible.  I moved further down the alleyway and found that the churchyard gate was padlocked but there was a wooden bench inside and I thought ‘What a quiet, calm place in which to spend a lunch hour.’ 

Turning away from the small oasis of calm, I braced myself for the walk up the West Hill and told myself not to look down while climbing.

©Text and photos Carole Tyrrell unless otherwise stated.

References and further reading

St Clement – Hastings Old Town Parish (oldtownparishhastings.org.uk)

Hastings St Clement | National Churches Trust

This month’s symbol features a single word, Mizpah, which is a representation of an emotional bond that goes beyond the grave. It isn’t a common symbol and I have seen only a few examples in cemeteries while out exploring.

However, during the 1980’s and 80’s, I often used to see Mizpah inscribed on old fashioned jewellery such as brooches when browsing in charity shops and jumble sales. At that time, I thought that it might have been another word for ‘Mother’.

These two examples date from the late 19th century and were found on Etsy. Images used without permission.

But, it was on an Open House visit to St Nicholas church in Chislehurst that I discovered its real meaning. I had read somewhere that Napoleon III was buried there but, alas, it was the wrong church and he had long since been re-interred elsewhere. However, on a churchyard tour that afternoon led by a volunteer I finally learned what it actually signified as he indicated Mizpah on the Campbell monument.  He said that it came from an Old Testament phrase ‘I will set around you a mountain which will keep you and protect you.’ I haven’t been able to find this particular Biblical quotation yet.

The word, Mizpah, appears in the Old Testament in Genesis 31:49:

‘And Mizpah, for he said, the Lord watch between you and me, when we are out of another’s sight.’  King James Bible

In other words, the one left behind is still protected and watched over even though their loved one has gone.  A touching link between two people or an entire family who have been separated by death or another force.

But there is another version, according to Wikipedia, in which it’s claimed that Mizpah stands for ’Lord watch over me’ and relates to the story of Jacob and Laban. Jacob fled with from Laban’s house in the middle of the night with all of his earthly possessions including animals, wives and children and Laban was soon in pursuit.  But the two men came to an agreement and built a watchtower or Mizpah.  This would be a border between their respective territories, and neither would pass the watchtower, which was reputed to be merely a pile of stones, to visit the other to do evil. God would be the only witness to their pact and would protect one from the other.  Today a modern village stands on the supposed site called Metullah which means lookout.

However, I prefer the more poignant reference to the affectionate ties between the departed and the bereaved and the wish to leave them with the feeling that they were still being supported and protected as exemplified by the one simple word.

Mizpah jewellery is still available and is often in the form of a coin shaped pendant, cut in two, with a zig-zag line bearing the words that I quoted in the first paragraph.

Here are two examples that I found online; one is vintage and the other is contemporary.

This first example is from Beckenham Cemetery and the Victorian epitaph is an affectionate tribute to a much loved and missed wife, Emma.

The second is from the Campbell monument in St Nicholas churchyard.  The Celtic cross above the grave is also of interest as it has strapwork on it made from entwined snakes, themselves symbols of eternity and mortality.  The Campbells had two famous sons: Sir Malcolm Campbell and his son Donald.  Note the small motif of a bluebird in one corner above the epitaph.  This was the name of the vehicles on which both Sir Malcolm and Donald achieved several world speed records during their lifetimes. Donald was tragically killed in 1967 when another world speed record breaking attempt on Coniston Water went tragically wrong and both he and Bluebird sank to the bottom of the lake.  It wasn’t until 2001 that his remains were discovered and buried in Coniston cemetery.  Nick Wales, his son, maintains the grave and also holds the world record for the fastest lawnmower. Donald Campbell’s Bluebird has been restored and was taken out for a trip on Bewl Water, near Tunbridge Wells by its new owner Paul Foulkes-Halbard in 2017.

The final one is a modern version, again from Beckenham Cemetery, and is dedicated to a Kathleen Sabine and dates from 2000.

©Text and photos Carole Tyrrell unless otherwise stated.

http://biblehub.com/genesis/31-49.htm

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mizpah_(emotional_bond)

http://www.helenalind.com/mizpah.htmlhttp://mizpah.biz/what-does-word-mizpah-mean

http://mizpah.biz/what-does-word-mizpah-mean

http://www.biblestudytools.com/dictionary/mizpah/

1938 water-speed record-setting Bluebird K3 is back on the water after extensive restoration | Hemmings