St Just in Roseland: snaps, words, history, politics and satire.

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St Just's is a parish church in the village of St.Just in Roseland. Cornwall. The village is small with a population of less than 1500 people, the church, it is said is one of the most visited in the UK.

As soon as you are through the Lichgate a tree of hope.....

.....and the oldest gravestone I have ever come across, Margery Fittock, and her brother, Benjamin. Margery died in 1756 aged 7 years and Benjamin aged 20 years in 1758.

The church was founded around 550 AD in honour of St Just the Martyr. The current building that stands today was constructed in the 13th century.

Standing on a tidal creek, on the Fal Estuary, it is rather an idyllic spot to have ya bones buried.

Cue Urban myth.........

An ancient legend says that this is the spot where Joseph of Arimathea, a tin merchant and uncle to Jesus came ashore with said JC, not only that but JC apparently also visited Glastonbury.

Fuck me and here was me thinking all these years it was Iggy Pop

Source

One could say that the myth was compounded in the immortal poem "Jerusalem" written in the early 19th century by William Blake.

And did those feet in ancient time,
Walk upon England's mountains green:
And was the holy Lamb of God,
On Englands pleasant pastures seen!

And did the Countenance Divine,
Shine forth upon our clouded hills?
And was Jerusalem builded here,
Among these dark Satanic Mills?

Bring me my Bow of burning gold:
Bring me my Arrows of desire:
Bring me my Spear: O clouds unfold:
Bring me my Chariot of fire!

I will not cease from Mental Fight,
Nor shall my Sword sleep in my hand:
Till we have built Jerusalem,
In Englands green and pleasant Land.

The poem was put to music in the early 20th century and is always sung at the Last Night of the Proms at the Albert Hall London. A more fitting unofficial National Anthem. Who wants to sing about some privileged inbred parasites.

The church was closed and restored in mid 1872

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Re-opened by the Bishop in November, who grandly arrived at the church sailing up the creek aboard HMS Ganges, the guest of Captain Tinkler (Behave)

Vicars past and present

The cold old church with flagstone floors and carved oak pews

The naughty boys sit at the back and while away the time whilst the vicar piously delivers his sermon, sail boats a plenty.

I see dead people

Someone spare a thought for Barrie

Cornwall has always had close ties to the sea, be it pirates a plenty or the Senior Service. "Muffet" what a sweet name, if I were in the market for another daughter, that is definitely a name I would choose.

The End

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_{Thanks for visiting my page, I am pleased to make your acquaintance. this is Stephen aka, @grindle, happily retired, travelling the world snapping away. My weapon of choice is currently a Nikon Z6(2). Unless stated all images are shot by me (©@grindle) all text is mine, based on various info sources. NOT AI generated. If you like my blog, it would be very much appreciated if you upvote and follow me. Also please feel free to drop a comment.}

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