Showing posts with label graveyard. Show all posts
Showing posts with label graveyard. Show all posts

Saturday, 20 July 2013

Reflective angel in Aston


On a sunny day graveyards are simply calm and quietly reflective places - spots to sit and ponder the environment around one.  I have even seen people having picnics in them on such days - though that did seem odd, even to me.

When they are slightly overgrown in parts too, as in Aston churchyard, that adds to their charm.
Well, I think so.

This post was featured on the Cemetery Sunday website

Sunday, 19 May 2013

Schoolboy remembered


What sad story does this grave tell? 
It is unusual to see a portrait on a gravestone in England, yet here is thirteen year old Edward Baddeley portrayed, and dressed in his schoolboy cap.
One can only imagine his grieving parents wanting to see their child fully remembered.

Of the little the grave inscription tells us, the only other telling fact is that young Arthur died at nearby Rudyard in June 1900. 

This grave is to be found at St Michael & All Angels Church, Horton.


This post was featured on the Cemetery Sunday website 

Tuesday, 2 April 2013

Slppery gravestones

Saint Giles Church in Newcastle-under-Lyme was rebuilt in the nineteenth century. The builders (it seems) couldn't be bothered to remove all the soil they had to dig up so they almost literally chucked it to one side, creating the hillock you can see next to the church to this day.

The gravestones too seem to have been disturbed at the time, and - with space in this urban centre very limited - seem to have been rearranged in the clumsy jigsaw fashion you see in the photo...  Walking over them is not to be advised on wet days, when they are almost waxy in their slipperiness.

This post was featured on the Cemetery Sunday website   

Saturday, 9 February 2013

Poet surrounded by weeds


George Heath's gravestone stands, surrounded by weeds, in a lonely country churchyard near Leek.  Pretty much unknown now, he was in fact pretty much unknown then - even though this is 'The Moorland Poet' as he was called locally. George Heath died 150 years ago, at just 25 years old.

His poetry is a bit post-Wordsworth:
"Slow creeps the light athwart the concave still,
Steals a low whisper on the breathless calm,
Bringing the scent of opening flowers, a balm;
Breaks o'er the earth a grand, a rapturous thrill"   but, like in these lines, not bad either.

He's buried in Horton churchyard, which is a bit ironic, as he first caught the chill which led to his fatal consumption while restoring the old church there...

What's odd though is that there is no sign or pointer to his grave. Admittedly, he was not a Top Poet, but Staffordshire Archives feel that he is important enough to have recently published a guide to their collection of his works, so you wonder why there is no real attention paid to the grave.

Link: Guide to Staffordshire George Heath collection 

This post was featured on the Cemetery Sunday website

Sunday, 13 January 2013

Grave with Revelations


The Recording Angel stands over this grave in Meerbrook churchyard. Edward Hassall (whose grave it is) clearly had thought a great deal on what might happen to him after his death, as the inscription under the angel’s feet gives this simple line: “Revelations Chapter 20 Verse 12”.

I looked up the verse (from the Bible’s Book of Revelations, of course). It runs: “And I saw the dead, small and great, stand before God; and the books were opened: and another book was opened, which is the book of life: and the dead were judged out of those things which were written in the books, according to their works.”
The angel is holding that very book.

I hope Edward's deeds will be enough to give him safe passage.

This post is featured on the Cemetery Sunday website

Tuesday, 20 September 2011

The angel of Aston


There’s something very spooky about angel-memorials in graveyards. They should be reassuring, but they have exactly the opposite effect on me, even one with a beautiful face, like this one in Aston churchyard.  Her wings are really like pinions too; it's quite a piece.
The fact that her arms have broken off may contribute to her spookiness.

And I can fully understand why the makers of Doctor Who should have based one of their alien-creatures, the ‘Weeping Angels’, on these statues.

Saturday, 30 July 2011

Death and ale


The Black Lion pub at Cheddleton is one of my favourites. It's (slightly) off the beaten track, has no frills at all, has a history, and is a proper drinkers' local. It is a real pub.

Like a proper pub, it is in the shadow of the local church (which, in this case, is an attraction itself, with its Pre-Raphaelite associations). So, if you want, you can wander the graveyard in between pints. If you want.