Welcome

Welcome to our website. Whether you want Weddings or Word from Wormingford, to find out about or services or to take a tour of our Churches, we hope you enjoy touring our website - and we look forward to meeting you in person.

Word From Wormingford

RichardB on May 16th, 2015

Ronald Blythe welcomes a visitor from Africa, and smartens up his garden THE first cuckoo. Its call-note is unmistakeable, the books tell me. As is its parasitic habit. Why build a nest when others can build it for you? It glides in from foreign parts to its seasonal home in the Stour Valley. It likes the […]

Continue reading about Word from Wormingford – 15 May 2015

RichardB on May 9th, 2015

Ronald Blythe recalls an author with whom he strolled in London IT IS one of those grey mornings – the west wind soft and contemplative, the animals munching the May grass, nose to nose. The radio goes in one ear and out the other until, suddenly, I am all attention. A name is mentioned, then a […]

Continue reading about Word from Wormingford – 8 May 2015

RichardB on May 2nd, 2015

Ronald Blythe sings to the sound of a harp, and goes to a bluebell party TO THE Alde Valley for its festival. The harpist accompanies evensong; the poet George Crabbe was Rector here. They say that, having drummed scripture into the members of his congregation, he would take them for a botany lesson round the parish. […]

Continue reading about Word from Wormingford – 1 May 2015

RichardB on April 24th, 2015

Ronald Blythe is glad that a poet is remembered in a cathedral window A SUMMER day in April. The windows wide, the robins noisy. A visit to the old horse-pond to see the marsh marigolds in all their glory. Their Latin name comes from kalathos, Greek for “goblet”. Their leaves hide the water, and their petals are […]

Continue reading about Word from Wormingford – 24 April 2015

RichardB on April 17th, 2015

Ronald Blythe envies the gallivanting St Mark HOT April days; the birds building, the skies high and still. On Sunday, I dressed for a procession, only to find children tying trinkets on an Easter tree. It was Sunday school with ceremony. But lunch was spring lamb and sherry. Bad news from good friends: their days here […]

Continue reading about Word from Wormingford – 17 April 2015

RichardB on April 10th, 2015

Paintings in an art gallery remind  Ronald Blythe  of the friends of his youth I LOVE provincial art galleries. It is amazing what hangs on their walls. Is that a real Picasso? And who is this painter no one has ever heard of? It is so captivating. This week, I went to the Minories Art Gallery, in […]

Continue reading about Word from Wormingford – 10 April 2015

RichardB on April 10th, 2015

Ronald Blythe is struck again by the freshness of a medieval writer HOLY WEEK. A soft gale troubles the bare trees. But it will not rain. Gulls land among the horses. The stream pours unseen to the river. The garden calls. I re-read Julian’s revelations of divine love in which, for me, there is an unparalleled […]

Continue reading about Word from Wormingford – 3 April 2015

RichardB on April 1st, 2015

How is it that daffodils appear so suddenly, Ronald Blythe wonders COLLECTING the post, there they were, where they had been since time immemorial: my wild daffodils under the plum tree – the ones that Dorothy Wordsworth drew her brother’s attention to. Although he did not acknowledge this when he wrote, “And all at once I […]

Continue reading about Word from Wormingford – 27 March 2015

RichardB on March 20th, 2015

Ronald Blythe prepares for the oilman to bring a year’s worth of warmth RAW spring days. The wind whistles through the thin hedge. There is a profusion of birds and primroses. Duncan’s fields have been polished by cold rains. I rake up ancient leaves, for the oilman cometh. The small tanker, bringing a year’s warmth, will […]

Continue reading about Word from Wormingford – 20 March 2015

RichardB on March 13th, 2015

Ronald Blythe feels pity for the cold suffered by the homeless Saviour RAW spring days. Early walkers squelch down the farm track, calling my name through the budding hedge. There is a profusion of birds and primroses. Sharp rains have hit the ploughing. Equally sharp winds tear through the trees. I might as well be bare, […]

Continue reading about Word from Wormingford – 13 March 2015