writing, not drowning: Set in stone

As we're now into our third consecutive month of rain, a rare sighting of the sun is too good to miss. So the Edinburgh Boy (who is always ready for an outing) and I headed out across the south-east corner of Exmoor to the neighbouring county of Somerset and the village of Stogumber, where I had to make a call.

Stogumber lies between the Quantocks and the Brendon Hills and there's a fine old church here, St Mary the Virgin. Parts of St Mary's date back to the 1400s; it was built, as so many Somerset churches, from the wealth generated by the county's flourishing wool trade. I would have posted a photo of the magnificent, 240-year-old candle chandelier or of the intricately painted vaulted ceiling but something went awry with the camera, so I shall just have to go back another time.

What I can show you is just a small section of the painted wall and ceiling:

and the carved stone Green Man, a link to an older, pre-Christian, earth spirit time; most depictions are in timber - stone versions are a rarity:

To one side of the main altar, behind a wrought iron screen is the Sydenham Chapel, built in the 1500s, which enabled the Sydenham family to worship privately, away from the hoi polloi. And this is the tomb of the immensely wealthy, Sir George Sydenham, with his two wives tucked away, almost out of sight, beneath him:

Sir George's daughter, Elizabeth, married Sir Francis Drake. (Yes, that Sir Francis Drake, circumnavigator, defeater of the Armada . . .)

Elizabeth Sydenham

A nearby road, the B3188, is said to be haunted by Sir George's white-clad phantom, riding a headless horse towards the village of Monksilver. (Note to self: keep eyes peeled next time I'm driving down the B3188.)

Watching over parishioners and visitors as they enter the church are these two carved heads, known as Adam and Eve:

and then there are the gargoyles or, to give them their local name, the "hunky punks":

And, set into the ancient wall that marks the boundary of the churchyard, an old wooden door:

Somerset may be the adjoining county but it possesses a completely different quality from Devon. Hard to quantify but palpably different. And very mysterious.