Lockdown. Gloucestershire. Working ‘remotely’ as they say. At lunchtime, I drove to St Nicholas’ Church, Oddington, not having the time to walk the couple of miles there. We call it St Nicholas-in-the-Woods, but that is not its proper name. It sits in a magical spot half a mile from the village, the original settlement around the church having relocated up the hill, possibly because of plague. The building has no electricity and is not used for regular worship (there is an 1852 Victorian church in the ‘new’ village). St Nicholas dates from the 11th century and gets a mention in Simon Jenkins’ England’s Thousand Best Churches. It has a Doom painting covering almost the entire western half of the north wall of the nave and thought to have been painted in or around 1340. The oldest bell is dated 1684.
We have visited dozens of times, in all seasons. I sometimes go alone, as today. It was unlocked and empty. I love the interior space, and although I don’t buy in to the ‘holy spaces where the walls are saturated by centuries of prayer’ mantra, which I regard as both nonsense and sentimental, I find this space very conducive to attentiveness, wonder, and imagination — which is prayer. I name before God the people and causes on my mind. The churchyard is also magical. The many gravestones serve their true and proper purpose of reminding mortal beings of their mortality and transience. The wind sings through trees. Here are some pictures I have taken over the years.
Thank you to those locals who look after this building and keep it open.
We have visited dozens of times, in all seasons. I sometimes go alone, as today. It was unlocked and empty. I love the interior space, and although I don’t buy in to the ‘holy spaces where the walls are saturated by centuries of prayer’ mantra, which I regard as both nonsense and sentimental, I find this space very conducive to attentiveness, wonder, and imagination — which is prayer. I name before God the people and causes on my mind. The churchyard is also magical. The many gravestones serve their true and proper purpose of reminding mortal beings of their mortality and transience. The wind sings through trees. Here are some pictures I have taken over the years.
Thank you to those locals who look after this building and keep it open.
