You may remember that I recently mentioned people doing weird and wonderful things. Well, I found another one. Last year, Kenneth Wilson visited all 42 English cathedrals. On a bike. With a cello. It was a cargo bike; the whole setup, cello and all, weighed about 50 kg; and he mostly managed a rate of one cathedral per day, with occasional rest days and train journeys where absolutely necessary. That's a lot of cycling.
Of course, he wrote a book about it, and when I found out he was on the schedule at Newark Book Festival, I had to go. It also provided the perfect excuse to visit Southwell Minster.
Newark-on-Trent feels like it is in the depths of the Nottinghamshire countryside, but it isn't actually hard to get to, I thought as I buzzed along the dual carriageways of the A50, A453, A52 and A46 on a sunny Sunday morning. All along the route, the grass stood bleached and crispy, scorched by the summer heat.
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| Newark Castle with crispy grass |
The author event was at the National Civil War Centre, in the Tudor Hall, a long room with a timbered ceiling and white-painted walls. Kenneth Wilson alternated between reading extracts from his book and playing short pieces on his carbon fibre cello (a wooden one would not have survived the journey). It was beautiful. The hour went very quickly.
I dropped into St Mary Magdalene church, arriving just after the morning service had finished to a warm welcome: "Yes, do look around, we're glad you're here." It was a good large church and I was pleased to see it filled with groups of chatting parishioners.
In the spacious market square, all the stripy stalls were selling books! Most of them were book festival authors displaying their own publications; a few were second-hand stalls selling Healthy Recipes for Your Slow Cooker and Trains Through the Decades. My opinion of Newark was rising by leaps and bounds.
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| Town Hall |
The River Trent at Newark was once busier than the A46. Shiploads of barley came in to be malted and turned into beer. Some of the warehouses can still be seen down by Town Lock. A little downstream, Newark Castle looms over Trent Bridge. I ate my lunch in the shade of some weeping willows, then made the twenty-minute drive to Southwell.
In the Middle Ages, the diocese of York was so huge that three minster churches were appointed to spread the load. These were Ripon, Beverley, and Southwell. Ripon became a cathedral in 1836 and refers to itself as such; Beverley stayed a minster; Southwell gained cathedral status in 1884 but somehow the name change never stuck. It still calls itself Southwell Minster. The pronunciation of Southwell is equally fluid, so you can say South-well Minster or Suth-ull Cathedral or just go and visit it and be struck dumb in admiration.
It really is a beautiful building, surrounded by so much green space that it almost qualifies as a park. Behind the cathedral, the ruins of the archbishop's palace have been turned into a garden, where a multitude of pink blooms were attracting bees.
The natural world creeps inside as well, with a window celebrating the Bramley cooking apple, and amazingly detailed carvings of leaves and animals in the chapter house. The medieval stonemasons took inspiration from the plants around Southwell, although I assume this guy with his chin in his hand and a scaly tail wasn't a local resident!
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| chapter house ceiling |
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| hmmm... |
Not to be outdone by Sheffield's steel nativity, Southwell has stations of the cross made from aluminium. The chunky sculptures are designed to be tactile, and the faceless, angular people are reminiscent of the Good News Bible illustrations. I liked the way they rise up to the cross.
And not to be outdone by Bradford either, Southwell has been recreated in matchsticks by an anonymous model-maker. How many cathedrals have been modelled, I wonder, and in what variety of materials?
And here are the font, the high altar, the cathedra, and the west window full of angels.
Snippets of singing were drifting through the minster as I wandered around. The choir was practising. I stayed for the service at 3:30, which turned out to be the final one for the minster choirs before their summer holidays. The seats were packed with proud parents as their offspring led us through the solemn and uplifting ritual of Choral Evensong. Prizes were given, farewells were said, and as I left after an energetic organ voluntary, I felt like I'd had a glimpse into the community of Southwell Minster, as well as its architecture.
I just read a line in Bede's Ecclesiastical History that said: "So peaceful was it under King Edwin's jurisdiction that a woman could carry her new-born babe across the island from sea to sea without any fear of harm." That's a lovely image. And I'm glad that Britain is peaceful enough today that a man can cycle around with a cello without any fear of harm. And a seven-year-old can sing in a cathedral choir. And a market can sell books for a day. And an artist can create angels in stained glass.
And I can wander around and enjoy the sunshine, and the music, and the buildings, and the beauty, without any fear of harm. That's a precious gift.
Southwell Minster 12 July 2026
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