St James seems to have been taking shape in the early part of the 14th Century in the decades before the Black Death wiped out half the population of Norfolk. Certainly, the tower and spire date from this time. Then, not unreasonably, there is an interruption, the rest of the church taking the shape we see today in the 15th Century. It is close to the northern edge of the graveyard, where the headstones have been cleared, but the pleasant churchyard spreads out to the south with some good 18th Century survivals. What appears to be an arched, 14th Century low side window is blocked with red brick, at once clumsy and attractive.

The chancel is sober Victorian in character, with a tiled floor leading up into the sanctuary. A curiosity is the medieval floor piscina set among the tiles on the south side. There is a tomb alcove on the north side, which may well have once served as an Easter Sepulchre. There is a cluster of medieval glass in the quatrefoil upper light of one of the Decorated windows. Not far along, a final sombre note is added to the rather solemn atmosphere by the memorial to Mary Colborne, who died in 1683 at the age of 44, the mother of three young children. She was born one of the Tyrrels of Wilton, and if the black marble of her inscription plaque left us in any doubt as to the sadness of her passing, then the shrouded skull and crossed bones could not fail to remind us that we, too, will one day come to this. It was with some relief that the kind churchwarden offered us the chance to go up the tower and see the bells, and also to gaze up into the stone spire receding into the darkness, one of the most unusual sights in Norfolk.