CALL me a wimp if you like but heights have always held a terror for me, that's why I'm more than happy living in a bungalow, writes Pete Lammas.

Having said that I'm also fascinated by height especially tall buildings, just as long as I can grasp something solid and have a firm footing.

So when I was invited to take a look at the inside of the landmark spire at St John's church, Bromsgrove, by steeplejacks who had been called in to inspect the structure, I was caught in two minds.

However, I agreed and I was glad I had. As a one-time choirboy at St John's, whose ancestors had climbed the hill to worship in the ancient building at times of sorrow and joy, I have always held it in great affection.

I teamed up with the steeplejack Anton Dearn and, after ascending the spiral stairs to the bell chamber and up another ladder, we reached a platform directly beneath the spire.

Gazing up at the spire, Anton pointed out the masons' marks on the huge blocks of sandstone and the niches where medieval builders fixed their wooden scaffolding.

Around the base of the spire, carved in the huge sandstone blocks, are dates and the initials of people long since dead.

Bill Ashton, Anton's colleague and the boss of the three man steeplejack team which is carrying out preliminary inspection work as part of a major £500,000 restoration of St John's fabric, is a super fit 48-year-old.

Now from Kidderminster, he's originally from Smethwick, and has been a steeplejack for most of his adult life.

He recalls he got into the business by chance. After a few dead end jobs he went to the labour exchange where an official asked casually: "Have you ever considered becoming a steeplejack?"

"I didn't even know what one was," he said.

"The pay was poor. I had been earning more at my previous jobs. But as a young man I did enjoy the glamour that went with the job."

Today when asked what he does for a living he simply replies that he's in the "building trade."

A top man these days can earn a minimum of £50,000 a year, and who's to say they are not worth every penny?

Naturally his job, with its inherent danger, is an immediate talking point with people he meets. When I inquire what question people ask the most, he replies with a smile: "It's do I know Fred Dibnah?"

Bill, who used to own the firm he now works for, and his mates shrug off the dangers. He stresses there is a big emphasis on safety and the importance of having confidence in your equipment. Very necessary I would think when you are scaling the 325 foot clock tower at Birmingham University, as Bill has done, or dangling in a bo'sun's chair from a mobile phone tower.

It's a sign of the times, he says, that much of the work nowadays is on these modern structures.

But his years in the job have taken their toll.

He still has four shattered bones in his spine, a legacy of when he did literally fall down on the job some years ago. Maybe that's the reason his wife can't bring herself to watch him and on the very rare occasions when she does accompany him, she shuts herself away in the van.

Now a brief history lesson. In April 1892 work on rebuilding the top 25 feet of the spire had just been completed. The top 13 feet was rebuilt as a solid structure with an iron bar running through it and projecting for a distance of 26 feet weighing with its balance weight, around five hundredweight.

This is designed to steady the spire from the effects of the weather and vibration from the bells. The new stone was obtained from Mr Griffin's quarry at Rock Hill and was said to be of good quality. The stone was secured with slate dowels and fastened with copper cramps and was coloured to blend with the old. At the same time the weathercock and ball were re-guilded and the names of the vicar and churchwardens inscribed.

The replacement of the weathervane was watched by a large crowd. When this finishing touch had been completed, a steeplejack climbed to the very apex and, to the crowds' amazement waved his arms above his head. Then two or three brave residents, among them a Mr Rose and a Mr Humphries, climbed to the top and gave the cock a celebratory spin. The lightening conductor was also fixed in place for the first time.

For the record the total height of the spire from the top of the weathercock to the ground is 206ft 4ins and the spire proper from the battlements is 109ft.

I bade Anton farewell as, in the face of what seemed like a gale, he leant low over the battlements to point out some interesting architectural feature. I meanwhile, not daring to look above or below and, with back firmly against the spire, edged my way back to the welcoming stairs and the dear, reassuring solid earth below.