After dropping Son the Elder off in Gloucester the other day, but before going to Tewkesbury, I went to Brockhampton in Herefordshire to see a building I'd wanted to visit for 25 years ago but had never got around to.
It's always a risk when you finally realise a long-held desire. I don't much care for Disappointment.
But All Saints Church was snoozing in the sun like an interesting dragon ...
... and when I encountered Ivor in the porch ...
... and saw the hinges of the door, I knew it was going to be fine.
And it was. In fact, it was more than fine, it was sublime.
All Saints was designed and built in 1901-2 by William Lethaby, whose pupil Randall Wells built St Edward's at Kempley, another nearby Arts and Crafts Church.
This is better, though. I can't recall ever feeling so at home in a place before.
The font
As I wandered around, I was very aware of how perfectly everything fitted together - the oak and stone, shadow and sun, beauty and utility. There was a palpable presiding spirit in the place: if not God, then definitely William Morris.
The embroidery was donated anonymously to the Church in 1960, and comprises of an altar frontal, some seating covers and hymn book covers.
It is, shall we say, a little less expert than the exquisite work produced by the likes of Jane and May Morris, but what a generous gift. Already I was feeling tearful.
The alms box
Window by Christopher Whall, showing incidents in the lives of St Cecilia and St Margaret of Scotland
Detail of window
16th century Flemish triptych
Mason's mark
Pulpit
Russian icon, early 19th century
Mediaeval stained glass salvaged from the old church
The crossing tower
Christopher Whall window in the transept
Choir stalls ...
... with carving by George Jack
The Sanctuary
Tapestries woven by Morris & Co, to designs by Edward Burne Jones
Alabaster sculpture of the Madonna
East window by Christopher Whall
View of the Nave from the Sanctuary
Light-fitting
By now a couple of other visitors had arrived and I was still in a state of high emotion, so I went back out into the churchyard and sat on a mossy tree root to collect myself. A pair of buzzards were spiralling overhead.
I felt as though I could see every turning leaf and hear the worms beneath me chomping through earth.
And when the other visitors left, I knew I couldn't go back in. What if I did and it was still so overwhelming that I lost it and couldn't drive to my next destination? What if I did and it wasn't? Neither outcome seemed bearable.
There will come a time when the risk will feel worth taking. I'll be back then.
And so, post walk on the hills, to Little Malvern Priory for a quick fossick while the man- and dog-folk waited in the car park. Very lovely it looked too, despite the drilling noise emanating from the kitchen area, where a man was hard at work re-fitting.
And very compact, having never housed more than ten or twelve monks at any one time.
Here's all the displaced kitchenalia stacked around the font, which is apparently of no special interest though I like the fact that an old column has clearly been recycled in its making.
There was specially interesting stuff there too, though, like the 14th century tiles that were made in the grounds of nearby Great Malvern Priory.
And the glass. I liked the glass very much. Here's the East Window of 1480-82 ...
... with its depiction of Elizabeth of York ...
... and her son, King Edward V (of Princes-in-the-Tower fame).
I also loved the combination of mediaeval and modern glass in the window on the north side of the nave ...
... where you have a fragment of 14th century glass, thought to represent God the Father ...
... and the day's first unexpected onslaught of poetry, in the form of roundels of modern stained glass, depicting the priory ...
... the 14th century poet William Langland (who, it turns out, might even have been a monk here) ...
... and the eponymous hero of his poem 'The Vision of Piers Plowman'.
'Learn to love and leave all other'
I also found the dimensions of the building intriguing.
It turns out that much of the original building has disappeared, including the side chapels, the ruins of which are still visible.
The effect is of a building that is Saxon in shape, although it's a fair bit later, having been constructed in the 12th century. I absolutely loved it.
And this is where the visit took a downturn.
'The garden is NOT open,' a cross posh person shouted as he advanced from the direction of the Court, 'even though the MAN doing the WORK in the KITCHEN has LEFT THE GARDEN DOOR OPEN. He SHOULDN'T have. Because it ISN'T OPEN TODAY.'
Now, I understand the concept of days off, but there are kindlier ways of giving someone their marching orders.
And let's face it, if the privilege of living in places of historical importance were allotted according to merit, all the nurses, teachers, carers and cleaners in the country would be holed up courts and castles.
In any event, I left swiftly, pausing only to make sure the door was still open.
Back in the car we decided that in view of our early start and subsequent exertions, coffee and tea cakes were in order, so we headed over the Worcestershire/ Herefordshire border to Ledbury.
Not having planned to come here, we found ourselves wandering up the nearest picturesque street.
Now, Ledbury is famous for poetry because of its poetry festival, but that takes place in July, so we weren't expecting more happy poetical accidents.
But look! John Masefield!
Yes, it turns out that the erstwhile Poet Laureate came from these parts. Rather a long way from The Sea he used to Must Go Down To, if you ask me.
The lane terminated in the grounds of the parish church of St Michael and All Angels so I had a Quick Pop Inside ...
... only to discover another treasury of stained glass, which rather delayed me.
My favourites were the Morris & Co windows. (No surprises there then.) The Good Shepherd window was made in 1913 to a design by Edward Burne Jones ...
... with The Nativity in the Sanctuary also dating from the early 20th Century.
I also loved the nonchalant St Michael and the dragon in Christopher Whall's beautiful window, which reminded me of St George and the dragon in East Harptree Church ... not surprising, perhaps, given that Karl Parsons, who designed the latter, was a pupil of, and assistant to, the former.
I wished I could get a better look at the Whall window depicting St Martin of Tours, who features so heavily in the Arts and Crafts Heaven that is St Martin's in Scarborough, but visitors are asked respectfully not to enter the Sanctuary, which is fair enough. Here's the glimpse I had.
There was also some glass by Charles Kempe, and some mediaeval glass, as well as the usual skulls and tombs and so on. I only really had time for a quick skim around but it was all quite magnificent.
The Skynner family tomb, c1631
More Skynners
Tomb of the infant John Hamilton Martin who died in 1851
I asked the steward if there was any connection in the church with John Masefield. She said that she had heard a story that the family had been asked whether they would consent to the baptistery being renamed the Masefield Chapel, but refused permission, having fallen out with the vicar.
John is buried in Westminster Abbey.
The 17th century font which is much more pleasing than the 19th century one currently in use
Time to go ...
... but there was one more poetic encounter on the way back to the car park, this one with Elizabeth Barrett Browning, who made her home in Ledbury for a time. This is the Barrett Browning Institute, which is a memorial to her.
'Earth's crammed with heaven. And every common bush afire with God. And only he who sees takes off his shoes; The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries.'
I felt as though I could see every turning leaf and hear the worms beneath me chomping through earth.
It turns out that much of the original building has disappeared, including the side chapels, the ruins of which are still visible. 
... with The Nativity in the Sanctuary also dating from the early 20th Century. 
John is buried in Westminster Abbey. 
