Pendock (from the Welsh:
“Barley Hill”) stands in a small cluster of mixed trees at the meeting
of two worlds. To the east in a sheep
field are the mounds and irregular hollows that are all that remains of an
early medieval village. To the south, a
mere hundred metres away, the roar of the M50 motorway is an audible reminder
of the twenty-first century. And yet the
church maintains an air of timelessness.
It was on a late morning in May, cool and showery, that I
drove slowly up the rough track to the Pendock Old Church. And that’s its name. There is no record of a saintly dedication. Declared redundant in 1987 it would either be
open or, following the usual arrangements of the Churches Conservation Trust, a
key would be available nearby.
It was, said the notice in the rustic yet post-Reformation
porch, in Priory Court some five hundred metres to the east across the already
mentioned sheep pasture. Not a long
walk, but I had to set a careful course and zigzag my way through the scattered
mementoes that sheep, especially frightened sheep, are fond of leaving.
The key duly collected I set back for the church only to
find a playful Parson Jack Russell running ahead of me. “Don’t worry,” said the woman, “She’ll go
with you. Show you the way.” And sure enough we made our way back together,
the dog stopping and turning around now and again to check that I was
following.
Once inside the church I was surprised at how light it
was, and also how quiet – given the proximity of the motorway. The twelfth
century sandstone walls continued to prove a match for modern noise! Everything
was immaculately ordered and clean, so full marks to the Trust for their upkeep
work.
Like so many historical sites Pendock Old is a church
that has evolved down the ages. There
can be no doubt that there was an earlier church as the simple font (“The workmanship is rude.” [1]) can be dated to the 10th
century. The existing walls have been given a date of about 1170, and the tower
(“The tower is of three stages with
diagonal buttresses at the western angles.” [2])
added some two hundred years later.
Those “western angle” reinforcements
were a defensive measure against marauding Welsh tribes in the fourteenth
century – a phenomenon that is thankfully, now, only sporadic.
Setting aside the fascinating architecture, the Victorian
glass, and the things that are no longer there (such as the rood screen,
although the access stairs are still there behind the bricked up arch near the
pulpit) there were for me three other gems that were worth closer
examination. The Laudian (early
seventeenth century) altar rails and sanctuary chair; and the little Georgian chamber
organ, last restored in 1978 and regularly maintained and played in recital.
It is rumoured, and here we must step into the realms of
conjecture, that as Sir Edward Elgar had composed two short pieces for such an
instrument, and as he had close connections with one Reverend William Symonds
who was erstwhile rector of Pendock, that this was the instrument on which
those pieces were originally tested. It’s
a nice story, but who knows?
I spent nearly an hour in Pendock Old Church, and emerged
to a light shower of rain. I sat and
sheltered on the low benches in the porch and enjoyed the ham and chutney
sandwiches that my mother had wrapped for me, thinking that this was a place,
peaceful and pleasant, to revisit. And
wondering where that dog had gone.
[1] and [2] History of the County of Worcestershire. Volume 3.
Pendock Old Church. OS Reference: SO 817336
Churches are always better without a congregation. Always. :)
ReplyDelete