Balsham to Stretchworth.

I’m in no rush. I eat my DIY breakfast in my room. Let the day warm up a little.  There are shops open, but I don’t need anything. When I do, there won’t be any. Sod has something to do with it.

Across the green is a small shelter, the ‘Prince Memorial’ to a local family at the beginning of the C20th, and a stone marker for The Icknield Way,  Ivinghoe Beacon, 63 miles, Peddars Way, 43 miles. So I am more than halfway. 

Thatched cottages are scattered throughout the village; this one, with its ducks and hens, is on the church approach.

Holy Trinity is another large church. The oldest part is the tower, C13th, with some impressive buttresses holding it up. Inside, the nave, supported by massive columns, clerestory and chancel date from the C14th.

The chancel features ancient carved pews, some of which have their original misericords.  Wood that is over 500 years old. 

Large, well-preserved medieval brasses to both  John Sleford and Hugh de Balsham are present in the chancel. 

Alterations were made to the church in the early 20th century, including stained glass windows and an imposing font cover, carved in the late 1920s by the then Rector, Edwin Burrell.

I wind my way through the village recreation grounds; all these little villages seem to have good facilities. The town councils must have their priorities right and the backing of a young, dynamic populace. As I said, they are dormitory towns for Cambridge.   

A sign points the way to Fox Lane, and I know when I reach it. Yet another thatcher’s animal adornment.

The lane that I follow for about three miles is no longer a greenway; attempts have been made to surface it in the past. However, it provides easy walking, with the chalk and flints visible through the surface.

The lane undulates between large fields. Prominent wind turbines are passed as height is gained.

Partridges run ahead of me, and there is an accompanying bird song from the hedges. Buzzards and kites fly overhead. Crabapples, haws, blackberries, and sloes are in profusion as I’ve mentioned many times this Autumn. These diversions keep me occupied on this three-mile plod.

A couple of small roads are crossed on the way, but no habitations. The lane ends abruptly at a dry ford, where I take a right turn on another lane. I soon realise why there were so many partridges about, they are feeding them to shoot them later.

Past Crick’s Farm, which turns out to be just two large sheds. 

 High fields give far-reaching views; those wind turbines don’t look far away.

Horsey fields, as I call them, are navigated until I’m alongside some neat allotments. A member is doing a bit of mowing but is happy to stop and chat. I learn a little about Brinkley, and he points me in the right direction of The Red Lion, which I might have. missed otherwise.

The Red Lion doesn’t look inviting from the outside. Have I become too thatch addicted? However, it turns out to be very friendly and accommodating,  a pint and a sit-down are enjoyed, and I stay for coffee.

Back in the village, I spend some time looking around St Mary’s church. On the gatepost is a stone skull and crossbones carving, intended to ward off evil spirits.  This church underwent many alterations in Victorian times, although the tower dates back to the 13th century, with diagonal buttressing and an unusual chequered flushwork base course. I like the red brick porch, apparently added in Tudor times.

Inside, most of the space is a Victorian restoration of the old structure. The Ensign hanging in the nave was presented to the church by the company of HMS Brinkley when it was decommissioned in 1962.

The tower arch is very tall and thin. Under the tower, there is an early 17th-century clock mechanism, an interesting survival.

 

 Bits of Medieval glass have been incorporated into the windows. 

I like the simplicity of this wall plaque. 

I read, too late, that the base of an old preaching cross, predating the church, is in the churchyard.

The way to Burrough is straightforward, and I come out onto the village green. A fine circle of field mushrooms is so obvious that I wonder why nobody has picked any.

St. Augustine Church is tucked away down a side lane. The church strikes me as unusual in having three chantries on the south wall. The tower is squat compared to many and remains unchanged from the rest of the C14th church, which has had many alterations over the years. At one time, there were chapels on either side of the chancel. Their presence is still visible in the exterior stonework.

Upon entering, the interior is devoid of pillars, and the chancel arch has been removed, leaving a boxy feel to this end.

The east window is beautiful, and contains some glass from before 1350.. The Puritans, led by William ‘Basher’ Dowsing under the 1643 Parliament Ordinance, destroyed the majority of the stained glass in the church – and what else?.

The three sedilia and double piscinae, seen in the south wall, are the oldest surviving features in the church.  Opposite on the north wall of the chancel are the three ornate niches containing medieval effigies of the local De Burgh family.

Originally, they would have been open on each side, linking the chancel and the lost north chapel. (We saw the outline of one on the outside) 

A further pair of later effigies sits in the north aisle. They show better workmanship, but are also badly weathered.  John Ingoldisthorpe and Elizabeth De Burgh, died 1420 and 1421 respectively.

Leaving the church, the path crosses the green; the old schoolhouse looks interesting.

Around the back of the Bull Inn, the path becomes enclosed for some way between horse paddocks – we are only a few miles from Newmarket.

Briefly, I join the E2 path (also the Stour Valley Path) in some woods.

Open countryside at last, before a sunken track takes me to the front door of my Airbnb.

A wonderful cottage with converted outhouses. Perfect. Another fascinating day in this region so unfamiliar to me. 

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