Extract from The Churches of West Sussex, published in support of a good cause

Slinfold in the Snow

A scattering of snow flakes coats the ground and yet the snow drops are pushing up through the soil.

On Monday morning the clock of St Peter’s in Slinfold reads six o’clock. But then it reads six o’clock all the time, at the moment. Life is still on hold: no one to fix it.

And so we pushed our cycles up the snow covered path in the biting wind to the firmly closed door. The last time we’d trod this path was in the high summer. A gentleman in a Panama hat was sitting behind a tressle table to take our names. In turn we stepped into his church where he was dividing his time between polishing the brasses and dispensing welcome cups of orange juice between the visiting walkers and cyclists. We were all taking part in the ‘Ride ‘n’ Stide’ in aid of the Historic Churches Trust and the prospect of any snow fall felt a world away.

St Peter’s lies at the heart of the community, in a well to do enclave, of a well to do town. It is situated on a bend, near a phone box that is now a book exchange, along side the village stores, opposite the local pub. Should Miss Marples come pedaling around the corner she wouldn’t raise so much as an eyebrow. And as welcomes go, the following is hard to beat: -

It doesn't matter how young or old you are - if you are a doubter, enquirer or even a saint - no matter who you are, no matter where you are on life's journey, you are welcome here.

And thus today, we shivered outside whilst on that balmy summer’s day, we stepped inside,happy to find relief in the shade.

We were on ground that had been occupied as a place of worship since at least 1230. At least, because there are in existence drawings suggesting a church had been on this very spot since possibly the 11th century. Indeed, the churches devotion to education and literacy has served it well. There are better records of parish churches, than any other institution. By educating the population, before anyone else took up the responsibility, the levels of literacy of those connected to the congregation is incomparably higher, and consequently their records predate almost any other local institution. And there’s scarcely a village without a church. But at St Peters, in addition to the well-read, the choristers whose eyes are turned to the conductor, an organist with their attention fixed on the music score, they lay claim to one other talent; painting. The Rector’s daughter, one Miss Vincent, proved to be blessed with a capacity with water colours. Had she not been so, we would know so little about the even older church, that stood before the current, quite old church was erected. Indeed, it may have been lost to posterity, that there existed another church at all.

On that summer’s day, before anyone had even heard of Covid, my initial impression was of an old and well-maintained church, blessed to be in a parish of able florists (I seem to recall). Well, I was right about the florists. And would have remained in ignorance, but for Miss Vincent’s water colour of the old church which met its end (as a building) in 1860. For by then, the Church had fallen into disrepair. The cost of repair was beyond that of a rebuild. And that is why it felt ‘well maintained’, when in reality it is nearly new, in parish church terms at least.

One of the great virtues of Slinfold is the fact that it is on the South Downs Link cycle track. Few estate agents make much of this when tempting Londoners down to ‘the country’. Yet despite this ‘gentrification’, as I believe it’s called, there exists inhabitants who stubbornly refuse to let go of their village roots. One single glazed, double fronted property still sports two story ladders up the side of the house. If he’s a chimney sweep, he’s not ashamed of it and nor should he be. How refreshing that the owner of such a prominent house has not succumbed to the temptations thrust upon them by bankers with big ideas on a ‘sympathetic restoration’; euphemistically the installation of a computerised AGA, plastic sash widows and a television the size of a wall.

Historically, villages have been self sufficient places with allotments and a variety of rural crafts. Today, some of the villages of southern England might find it easiest to achieve self-sufficiency only in terms of a trade in questionable investments and second-hand BMWs.

And on this morning as we made our way up the path, the rush hour was gradually grinding into life. The commuters were compelled to an inconvenient gear change, necessitated by the bend on which the Church has long stood. No matter how tranquil a setting or how peaceful a building, when Monday morning invades one’s thoughts, a constant reference to the passing time is unavoidable. For this reason, I preferred to rely on the static clock in the tower of St Peter’s, if only for a short time.

The tower into which my static clock is set, is very much the ‘new’ part of the church. Before its erection, Miss Vincent’s water colour reveals that there was a Sussex Cap. Squat, triangular (and possibly wooden?), this architectural feature has been claimed by the county – and I believe, it is indeed unique to Sussex. Yet it represents a significant change from the pre-Victorian building that once stood here. Then, London was a long way away by horse and cart, and perhaps todays Parish wouldn’t ever struggle quite so much in maintaining the church. There are some advantages to rural crafts having given way to stock broking.

The above is an extract from The Churches of West Sussex by Nigel C Winter - available from Amazon 'at cost' the princely sum of £2.93, because it contains an invitation to make a donation to the Salvation Army.https://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B0B4HKNT5N/ref=dbs_a_def_rwt_bibl_vppi_i3