St Bartholomew's Church Kirkwhelpington

This smiley-eyed surprise is the sundial on the church of St Bartholomew's in Kirkwhelpington. The village name is a mix of Kirk, meaning the church, 'ing' meaning the people of, and 'ton' means enclosure or homestead of the gadgie called 'Hwelp'. Of course!

This is a plain place of sanctuary with some seriously striking stonework; cue one of my top five stone arches approaching!

Bits of the building were built in the 12th century and first referenced in 1244.

It's a long, lithe line of a church which seems to have been added to over the centuries, but I loved the paired down appearance, which allowed you to focus on the eye catching bits inside and out, like the sundial.

Initially dated 1764, the numbers straddled either side of the smiley eyed guy, the words 'Hora Pars Vitae' crown his wise eyes. The term 'every hour is part of life' is a great reminder to live the little things.

I loved the way the structure slightly kicked out at the right, presumably to allow the gnomon (the pokey bit) to catch the shadow and cast the line of time.

It was restored in 2017 by the Browne-Swinburne family of Capheaton Hall in memory of the current owner's grandmother and grandfather, Joan Mary Browne-Swinburne (1906-2012) and Richard Granville Browne-Swinburne 1905-2001. Joan lived to the ripe old admirable age of 106 and her funeral was held at the church.

It's a beautiful example of a sundial with crisp, clear numerals and sits above the entrance to the church.

The stone arch entrance surrounding the door shows some beautiful stone shafts with roll moulds and a little nail head detail which reminded me of those jumping, chattering teeth on feet! You'll not unsee that now I've mentioned it!

On entering the church, it's plain, but for me perfect, in the sense that the embellishments really shine.

Sometimes, there's a bit too much to cast yer glance at in a religious building, and you're not sure where to look first to focus. One glance down this aisleless, single cell building and your eye is cast first to the font, a simple 17th century stone bowl on a hexagonal pier capital. This piece of massive masonry would have previously supported an arch perhaps at the head of a chancel arch and was from the 14th or 15th century. I like this make-do-a-mend approach to churches. Beg, borrow and steal!

But then I turned around and phewsh...knocked me socks off with that spectacular stone arch. Shut the front door! Well, it's actually leading into the bell tower.

It's a fancy pants arch just for a bell tower. Steeply pointed with exuberant stone zigzags which stood proud of the stone. They looked like teeth, yes more teeth, crocodilian chompers nibbling at the sandstone. Look at those sandstone scrolls above the pillars, like butter curls. But surely this was too ostentatious to simply bear the way to the bells?

Pevsner believes it was too large to be originally placed in the west of the building and wouldn't have been an entrance to the church. The tower was built in the 13th century, and lots of bits and bobs of stone relics have been set below the arch, like a pinboard of stone artefacts, for safekeeping from the restoration of 1896, by Hicks, who was an uncharacteristically sensitive late Victorian architect.

I just loved this massive misplaced arch. It's multidimensional angles jumped off the wall. In places it looked like a spine or a dinosaur tail. I'd like to have pulled up the pulpit and shinned up it to have a touch.

The windows were a mixture of sedate stained glass by Heaton, Butler and Bayne, with some simple, clear glass, as seen in the chancel.

And a wonderfully uniform window which appears to be by my favourite, Leonard Evetts.

There are a pair of 13th century sedilia - uncomfortable stone seats found on the south side of the altar for the clergy. It looks like they might have extended further in the past and that perhaps the chancel has been chopped a bit.

The organ, like the pulpit was plain and functional but allowed the intricacy of the rood screen to shine.

Look at the ceiling bosses, all nine of them. These are centred on moulded tie beams and are deeply carved with foliage, thought to be a 19th or early 20th century addition to the church.

There were some phenomenally elaborate dedications on some grave slabs in the chancel. Have a read. There was a lot of space to fill. I wonder who I could coax to pen my slab of granite!

Outside, there was a selection of ancient graves of interest. Skull and crossbones, angels with wings, hands holding flowers.

But a pair of graves which stood tall above the others, modest and restrained, were those of Charles and Katherine Parsons, inventor of the compound steam turbine and life long women's rights campaigner, prominent suffragette, pioneer of the girl guides and the first woman to be a member of the North East Coast Institution of Engineers and Shipbuilders. These were prominent people living out their days at Ray Demesne just along the road and who would have worshipped at the church.

There were graves also to the Swinburne's and Tone's of Capheaton.

The bell tower was held up with hefty buttresses but was iced at the top with delicate spirelets and crenellated parapets.

In this sandwich of bell tower, nave and chancel, there was a mishmash of windows which looked a bit incongruous externally, but all round, this long line church, sat just proud of the infant river Wansbeck was a check on my churchy tick list.