If Clippesby church is one of the lesser-known churches of Norfolk this may well be because of its situation, in a secretive and beautifully overgrown churchyard up a track from the busy Acle to Stalham road. The traffic hurtles by without an inkling that it is barely a hundred yards away behind the cottages. Round-towered church enthusiasts might have more incentive for seeking it out, for Clippesby's round tower is one of a number in this area. although it must be said that what we see today is part of an extensive rebuilding of the 1870s. Two Norman doorways survived the rebuilding, both with intriguing graffiti, one of which appears to be a tiny roundel of a woman praying. These doorways betray the 12th Century origins of the building, and there seems to have been another considerable campaign in the 13th Century, which presumably obviated the need for anything major to happen subsequently in the medieval period. This in turn might explain the need for so much to have been done to it by the Victorians.

Not a remarkable building then, but a pleasing one, and a welcoming one as you may judge from the notice in the south porch which reads God doesn't lock doors, his church is always open. And if you needed a really good reason to take advantage of this generous hospitality, it is that Clippesby church containsone of the major works of the early 20th Century East Anglian Arts and Crafts revival, the south nave window by Margaret Edith Aldrich Rope. The Suffolk-based Rope family produced several fine artists, but the most significant were Margaret Agnes Rope and Margaret Edith Rope, two cousins who produced some of the finest English stained glass work of the first half of the Century. The enchanting Clippesby window is important because it was, in 1919, Margaret Edith Rope's first commission. She was a young woman, still in her twenties, and the window is full of youthful enthusiasm. It depicts Christ allowing the children to come to him, 'for of such is the Kingdom of Heaven'. It is shimmers with the bright colours that would be Margaret Edith's trademark, the drawing owing something to the contemporary work of Anning Bell, but the scene full of the little details which were typical of the Rope Cousins. A doll held by one of the little girls, a toy Noah's ark bobs in the stream at the children's feet disgorging its tigers and its elephants. A frog sits on a lilypad. An upper light depicts a priest baptising a baby, and the round window behind him becomes a cruciform nimbus. The glass remembers Alfred Rivett, the rector here from 1897 to 1917, and his wife Anna. I think it is the best of Margaret Edith Rope's work on this scale, although there are a number of smaller pieces equally good.

The plainness of the interior is a perfect foil for the glass, although of course that means that the rest of it somewhat, but this is a simple, well-kept church with the character of its 1870s restoration. The reredos is a fine piece, suggesting a considerable Anglo-Catholic sympathy here at that time. The 15th Century font is a curiosity, appearing to have had the top quarter or so sliced off the bowl, possibly to even it up after vandalism in the 16th and 17th Centuries. I couldn't help thinking that, in proportion, it is very similar to some of the Seven Sacrament series, and it would be fascinating to know what the panels depicted before they were smoothed clean.

Clippesby church has two sets of pairs of brasses from each end of the 16th Century, and thus either side of the great Reformation divide. The earlier pair is of 1506 to Thomas Pallyng and his wife, he in the costume of a rich merchant. We don't know her name because at some point, probably in the early 17th Century, the Catholic prayer clauses from the start and end of their inscription have been removed, and in doing so breaking off the parts of the inscription above and below them, removing the details. The later pair depicts John Clippesby and his wife. He is very much the Tudor knight in armour, and with them are their three daughters and a chrysom child, which is to say an infant who did not survive into childhood. The only jarring note in the whole building is a window depicting the Resurrection, probably of the 1870s, in garish ice cream parlour colours.

Coming back here in September 2022 I recalled an incident from about ten years earlier when I had been here in high summer. I'd sat in the church soaking it all in, feeling the warmth of the sunshine falling through Margaret Edith Rope's masterpiece behind me, when I heard - or thought I heard - a slight movement behind me. I had left both the porch and the south doors open, and as I turned I saw two young black cats, who had overcome their nervousness and were poking their heads around the doorway to see what I was up to. Well, when I turned they were gone like a flash, as you may imagine, no doubt fearful lest their inquisitiveness should prove their downfall. I went and sat outside in the churchyard, watching them explore and tumble in the long grass. Again, a noise behind me, and this time a large, adult male peacock was thrusting like a battleship through the undergrowth. What an extraordinary place. I took my leave respectfully, and headed on, pausing only to notice the new headstone on the south side of the chancel to one lovingly remembered as an inspiring Choir trainer, Artist, Poet, Thinker and a wise and caring friend.

Simon Knott, October 2022

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