Reflections and Projections (and Squirrels)

By Barry Richardson

This week I visited St Mary’s to document the progress as the Re-Awakening building phase enters its final chapter. Scaffolding still cradles the West tower, but is largely gone elsewhere outside the church.

The South Porch has re-emerged, its door still locked—for now. But it offers a tantalising promise… a gentle reminder that doors will soon reopen.

The South Porch returns to public view

The east end of the church has fully emerged from the spider’s web of scaffolding, with beautiful knitted poppies now swaddling the railings and drawing the eye towards the honey-coloured stone of the Church.

Knitted Poppies lining the railings at the south of St Marys.

The War Memorial stood gleaming in the mid-autumn sun, a sentinel commemorating the ultimate sacrifice.

The War Memorial, looking glorious in the autumnal scene

Nearby, squirrels busied themselves stockpiling food for the winter ahead—readying for rest, while St Mary’s does exactly the opposite.

Opening: A Moment of Stillness

Inside, wood is still being worked—assembled into storage, fitted to walls, shaped to replace and repair.

I stood beneath the painted nave ceiling, looking down toward the tower, with my back to the altar. The sounds of industry still reverberate inside this glorious medieval building, yet serenity is returning—a calmness, a promise that ‘all is well’.

The Nave looking towards the tower - with the soaring columns gracefully framing industry

The bright light of summer no longer streams through the windows, yet colour still dances and glows in the vivid imagery of the stained glass. These sit beside plain panes—not blank canvases, but quiet re-statements, reasserting something I cannot quite name… perhaps just adding, quite literally, ‘clarity’.

This venerable old building has new clothes—and they are looking rather glorious.

Weaving the Threads

I couldn’t resist peeking inside the kitchen in the café pod—admiring the quality of both workmanship and materials. Externally, it mirrors the existing church fittings while adding a flavour of modernity—yet not too modern.  

The Kitchen looking like a kitchen at last - a really nice one!

As the church readies itself to feed the soul, the café looks set to do a fine job of feeding the stomach—welcoming visitors old and new, here for their own reasons: as tourists, worshippers, or simply to have a nosey (which I seem to be doing rather a lot of). All will be welcome.

The Magnus Room now has a ceiling and glazing, allowing the stained glass to remain visible from the room.

It has moved from plan to reality—its size feels generous, its scale appropriate, and the exterior cladding blends suitably with the church. 

It mirrors the café pod, yet remains distinctive in its own right. It also feels ready to inspire—lending modernity without damaging the setting. It feels as though it will have a life of its own, yet remain connected to the very fabric of the church.

The Magnus Room with windows looking out to Stained Glass - almost like a bank of paintings at a gallery.

Plaster is renewed in the south transept and just looks ‘right’—I can’t explain it better. It simply belongs.

Plasterwork restored - was part ever removed?

Flooring is partly renewed in the North Chancel, again feeling neither overstated nor underdone—perhaps because of the magnificent proportions that St Mary’s affords.

A few new wall panels were stored in the central aisle, waiting for their forever homes. I couldn’t resist touching them—feeling their quality, craftsmanship, and suitability in equal measure.

A new panel showing the attention to perfectly match present fittings

In Summary: A Threshold Moment

Soon, locked doors will swing open—not just physically, but symbolically too. St Mary’s will once again become a place of gathering, for new memories, for quiet renewal—an unmistakable fusion for visits, pilgrimage and worship. It will beat to the rhythm of church life once more.

Stones will retain the echoes of centuries, and when the final scaffolds fall away, inside and out, what remains will not just speak of repair, but of restatement. A Re-Awakening.

As I left to return home to write this blog, I returned to my opening thoughts - and I smiled watching the squirrels still busying themselves in the decaying sun—readying to retreat into winter’s hush, exactly at the same time St Mary’s starts to plan and prepare to do exactly the opposite: to break into life once again.

A squirrel next to St Mary’s prepping for the Winter ahead