Patrick Comerford
I am back in Lichfield about three or four times a year, and each time on the train to and from Milton Keynes I take care on the short, sharp final leg of the journey, between Tamworth and Lichfield, to catch a fleeting glimpse – and sometimes even a photograph – of Comberford Hall before the train crosses the bridge spanning the River Tame.
I imagine, without archaeological evidence, that the original ford crossing the river that gives its name to Comberford, may have been at this very point on the river – certainly it was somewhere along the short stretch of the river below the sloping fields that lead down from Comberford Hall and Comberford village to the banks of the Tame.
The sight from the train of Comberford Hall in the Staffordshire countryside always fills me with a soft, gentle pleasure. I had worried at one time whether the HS2 works would block that view, and I wrote recently about the setting and the trees, wondering winsomely recently whether one of these might have been the oak under which Dean Jonathan Swift decided to marry a couple he met who were making their way to Lichfield while he was returning from London to Dublin.
I was in Tamworth yesterday to speak about the tercentenary of the Comberford plaque erected by Joseph Comerford in the Comberford Chapel in Saint Editha’s Church, and for a rededication service led by the Vicar of Tamworth, the Revd Andrew Lythall, in the presence of the Deputy Mayor of Tamworth, Councillor Chris Bain. The evening event was organised by Dr David Biggs of Tamworth and District Civic Society.
I had arrived in Tamworth from Milton Keynes in the late morning, and it was a bright, sunny day yesterday with clear blue skies. I realised that, despite passing Comberford so often on the train between Tamworth and Lichfield, it was over two years since I had actually set foot physically in Comberford (24 January 2023).
Sometimes my photographs from the train are blurred by the speed of the train, dirt on the windows, the poor weather conditions, or the poor light. So, after coffee in No 18, a delightful café at No Lichfield Street, visiting the Moat House, the former Comberford family Tudor mansion on Lichfield Street, and walking by the river bank, I made my way out to Comberford, where I spent 2½ hours strolling through the village, walking by the river bank, and traipsing through the fields across to Comberford Hall, the Coach House and Comberford Cottage.
The sound of trains nearby did nothing to intrude on the calm by the river bank or to interrupt the simple pleasure and joy of walking in the afternoon April sunshine in the countryside.
Perhaps the only sadness is that Saint Mary and Saint George Church is now screened off from view with tall fencing and large paling. The church was built in 1914 but closed for the last time after a final service on Sunday 13 October 2013. Like many people, I had hoped it might have found a function serving the community.
Comberford is in an idyllic location, with a children’s playground and park. But it is a village without a church, a post office, a shop or a pub.
I have known Comberford and this corner of Staffordshire since my teens, 55 years ago, and it has been known to my family for generations and down through the centuries. When my great-grandfather James Comerford (1817-1902) visited the area over 125 years ago, he was probably accompanied by my grandfather Stephen Comerford (1867-1921). When Joseph Comerford commissioned the memorial in the Comberford Chapel 300 years ago, I presume he had visited Comberford and Comberford Hall beforehand.
The relationship between the Comerford and Comberford families is not, strictly speaking, one through a genetic genealogical lineage, but it is one of mutual genealogical adoption and ties of affection, as I have said in the past, and it stretches back long before Joseph Comerford erected his plaque in 1725, perhaps to the late 15th century, when Edmund Comerford, a future Bishop of Ferns, was a student in Oxford.
It is not a mere romantic distraction to say not only that I have always felt welcome in Comberford, but there is a sense too in which this is part of my family story and it has become one of their ancestral homes.
From Comberford Hall, I walked back down the long, tree-lined drive to the junction on the A513 where Elford Road becomes Comberford Road, leading back into Tamworth.
On my way along Comberford Road in Tamworth, someone who recognised me on the street asked about my photographs of the street signs, and then apologised she could not get to my talk that evening.
Back in Tamworth, there was time to visit the library for some continuing historical research, and to photograph some buildings for fuuture blog postings before an early dinner in Prtobello on the corner of Silver Street and Church Street and facing Lichfield Street.
Milton Keynes is less than an hour by train from Milton Keynes. When I arrived back, much of the station area was cordoned off following a tragic incident earlier in the day, but the police were helpful as I found my way out.
I had many reasons to be grateful for my few hours of peace and calm in Comberford earlier in the afternoon.
Comberford is seldom disturbed by visitors, and because the village is at the end of a country lane or cul-de-sac, there are few cyclists or walkers. I was alone on my walk on Tuesday afternoon, but my solitary pursuit allowed me to reacquaint myself with the beauty and tranquility of my own little corner of Staffordshire.
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