Not far from The Kilns we found the parish church C.S. Lewis attended. I really love how villages are set up in England, everything there together in walking distance. I'd like a parish church. Being in this parish felt nostalgic of another time.
There wasn't a car park around the church. We parked on the street and followed the path. I liked that you had to do that. It felt like leaving modern life behind walked between the hedge and rock wall.
We heard the story of Lewis and his brother leaving the service early each Sunday and the heavy wooden doors slamming in their wake. The sexton was asked to come up with a way to keep the noise from being so loud. I wonder why they didn't just ask them to take more care shutting the door. Part of me finds this habit endearingly quirky, and the other part finds it rude.
The Narnia Window
I'm not sure what year it was added, but there was a lovely Narnia-inspired window near the pew Lewis usually occupied. There's really quite a lot to see in it the longer you look. I just noticed the lamppost at the top.
What a magical place Lewis created.
KJ is sitting in the spot marked as Lewis'. Aren't those stone arches lovely? I love those needlepoint seat cushions, too. Classic.
The floor is the same as in Jane Austen's church.
Beautiful Doors
It took us awhile to find Lewis' grave, though after a while we found a sign pointing the way. If it's not too strange to say, the graveyard felt like a magical place that night.
His brother, Warnie, is now buried with him. From what we learned at The Kilns he grieved for a long time when Lewis died. It was very hard for him.
I love this picture.
We left through the gate and turned the car towards Bath. I hope we'll be back in Oxford one day.
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