We had finally found breakfast, in a little café that doubled as a bakery, gallery and bookstore…and there can be no better combination. Well fortified for the rest of the day, we strolled back into the misty little town of St Just. It would have been impolite not to visit the church while we were there. Silly too, as we could tell from the little bit of tower that peeps over the rooftops that it is an old one.
We were greeted in the churchyard by an ancient Celtic cross, bearing a simple carving of Christ with His arms wide open, more weathered, but not unlike the one at Kniveton, the little church that smiled. There is another eroded cross there too, and, we were to find, at least another one inside the church.
Above the entrance to the porch is yet another sundial. Many churches have lost…
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