The villagers who turned a place of worship into a place of welcome - Julian Norton

On my penultimate lesson, Steve must have been relieved that his challenge was nearly at an end, and he asked a favour.

“Our village has been converting the church into a lodge for people to stay in. The committee wondered if you’d come and cut the ribbon to open it?”

Of course, I was delighted by the invitation, because this is the sort of community-spirited, enthusiasm-inspired collaboration that I’m passionate about supporting.

And, besides, I owed him for the frustration he had endured during my golf lessons.

Hudswell village lies just outside Richmond, overlooking the southern banks of the river Swale. Its church, St Michael’s, had fallen into disuse- reportedly the final co

ngregations amounted to just a handful.

The local community had been inspired to take over ownership and convert the building into accommodation.

Its proximity to the renowned Coast to Coast walk, as well as the historic town just down the road and the expanse of Swaledale beyond, made the endeavour eminently feasible, especially as the village already had experience in community projects, having taken over running The George and Dragon pub and recently completing a build to provide some affordable housing in the village.

From the outside, St Michael’s looked like a normal church, complete with surrounding gravestones. There was a smart, pebbly carpark (with two EV charging points) and new fruit trees planted around the churchyard at the front.

But it was inside where things got exciting. There was a glass-walled entrance hall, which led to a lounge area with tables, chairs and a log burner. At the back, in what used to be the vestry, was a small but well-equipped kitchen.

Bedrooms, each with an en-suite bathroom, had been constructed with beds made from the church pews and the whole ambience was calm and serene.

The stained-glass windows have been retained so, even though it is very evident that this is accommodation rather than a place for worship, there is still a strong sense of the Church.

Before the ribbon cutting, I chatted with some of the assembled crowd. One chap, with flat cap and a pint in hand, related how he had been christened in the church and had been a choir boy there too.

There were several clergymen attending, and I was curious to see how they felt; sad that another church had run out of steam, or pleased that the building lived on, nurturing the community and sheltering visitors to the dale.

I was assured that God’s spirit remained strong in the parish. If He is looking down on the parish and St Michael’s, I’m sure He must be very impressed with the vision and hard work which has achieved such a marvellous transformation.

For anyone planning a sojourn in the lower reaches of Swaledale, St Michael’s Lodge is definitely worth looking at.

I can just picture the scene, arriving after a cold, wet and windy evening of walking, like Heathcliffe turning up at Wuthering Heights, the heat of the log burner matched equally by the warmth of the welcome from the people of Hudswell.

Times change and the purpose of buildings evolves; roles becoming redundant and new needs emerge. Higher up Swaledale, there are disused lead mines, now derelict.

Just a few miles away, Richmond Castle, once the stronghold of Alan of Normandy (William the Conqueror’s loyal cousin), kept the locals in check, but its fortifications are not needed anymore.

Thanks to the locals of Hudswell, one old building has moved with the times. Gods speed St Michael’s Lodge!