The peaceful churchyard is a pleasant place to wander, and there are several interesting 18th and 19th century headstones. The church is small, and has two curious filled-in archways, one on each side, halfway down the nave. It seems there were once transept chapels, or even perhaps this church was cruciform, except that the roofline must have been very low. There was a fairly restrained 19th century restoration, which has left the curiosity of a terracotta carved and cusped archway to the priest door of the chancel.

Inside, the Victorian benches have been replaced by modern chairs, and I think this always looks good in a medieval church. There is a plainness that offsets the medieval survivals nicely - notably, the lower part of a St Christopher wall painting, the fish still swimming about oblivious of the passing of time.

The inscription is harshly carved, and although the sentiment is touching, you might imagine from their poorly-spelt little ditty that the Bells were rural oafs from the outback. In fact, they were people of consequence - Edmund's grandfather had been Speaker of the House of Commons under Elizabeth I. Further, this crude memorial was produced at a time when the Renaissance was in full flower in continental Europe. A telling reminder of the price the English paid for Puritanism, and the protestant tradition would continue to hold strong in this backwater over the next century and more, as witnessed by the congregational chapel of 1728 in the narrow lanes to the north-west.