St Nicholas, Shereford

It was a delight to come back to Shereford on a lovely day in the late summer of 2021, not least because this is one of the most attractive of all East Anglia's round-towered churches. The lower part of the tower is probably contemporary with the rebuilding of the church in the 12th Century, the most spectacular survival of which is the south doorway. When the nave walls and the tower were heightened, probably in the early 14th Century, bands of carstone were used in both. The top of the tower has a pretty conical cap which Pevsner declared silly, but I think it is lovely and it is clearly a match for the square one at Toftrees, Shereford's non-identical twin across the fields.

The north wall has shadows of arches in it, and stepping into the wide, light interior you can see the blocked off arcade which once separated the nave from a north aisle. The north doorway, which is late Norman, must have been moved southwards when this happened, so it was probably done as part of the 19th Century restoration. The font is late Norman and it is exciting to think it was probably the new one that came as part of the rebuilding. There is no coloured glass and apart from a few devotional statues the overwhelming impression is of brick floors, simple wooden furnishings and old stone.

You might think that this airy delight is a result of Medieval survival and Victorian restraint, but the brick chancel steps are a clue that this church went on a considerable journey in the years after the last War. Simon Cotton reminded me of Colin Stephenson's article in the 1973 Norfolk Churches Trust book Norfolk Country Churches and the Future. Stephenson had been a naval chaplain and had lost a leg. At the end of the War he applied to the Diocese of Norwich for an incumbency. He recalled that I was offered the livings of Toftrees and Shereford and, although still in hospital had myself brought to see them. I was very depressed by the latter church, the windows of which were unsound and the walls green with damp. The village was minute and I can remember thinking that there seemed very little hope for it. I did not see the church again until Trinity Sunday 1972 and found it in mint condition with a good congregation. The churchwarden, a local farmer, said: ‘When I came here in 1947 they wanted to close the church and I said: “Give us a little time and we’ll get it in order. We’ve done it bit by bit and it’s not too bad now." I went away filled with hope because twenty-five years ago I had thought the chance of restoration almost impossible, but it had been done – "bit by bit’". Ironically, it is now Shereford's neighbour Toftrees whose church is in need of rescuing from neglect.

I was here on a bike ride with fellow Norfolk church enthusiast Cameron Self, and we agreed that this was a special place. I recalled my previous visit some fifteen years before which had been on a cold, bright day in spring. As I'd stood in the churchyard I'd noticed the last, the very last of the snowdrops. They had been so late everywhere that year, but it seemed extraordinary that this little clump could have survived into the middle of April. And as I stood there looking at them, I heard the cuckoo, off in the trees over towards Dunton, the first cuckoo of the year. To hear a cuckoo and see snowdrops at the same time seemed precious, an affirmation of the world coming back to life in the fields of mid-Norfolk.

Simon Knott, September 2021

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