The room was
small, with smooth stone walls, two beautiful arched lattice windows, and
furnished with a simple altar and candles. Behind me, the priest had closed
the heavy wooden door, saying he would be back in about twenty minutes,
after he had finished the church service. That's fine, I thought, not long
to sit, and wait.
I was at the Church of St Margaret, King's Lynn, Norfolk, UK, on the search
for anchorholds and the memories of anchoresses, the women who had chosen
to be permanently sealed from the world.
Read on...
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