If there was such an award, I feel it should go St Giles on The Hill in Norwich.
Even from the street, I was entranced. The wisteria falling over the wall, the smell, the colour of it all… and later a story – that it was planted more than one hundred years ago for the wedding of the vicar’s daughter.
Go round the back, we were told. We imagined evening picnics here, tickled by glorious cow parsley, listening to the bees, away from the world and into a different world, following secret paths trodden in the long grass, resting our hands on the smooth edge of a gravestone, wishing that we too might end up somewhere as beautiful as this and somehow nothing felt as frightening as it did before we came in here.
(I’m trying a slideshow, be patient and let the Churchyard unfold!)