Cemetery Residents

I came to fall in love with cemeteries more, because of their peacefulness. It’s seems that due to constant construction, and over population, they seem to be one of the most peaceful places to go. If you visit a park on a summer’s day, it is usually filled with the excitement of families, with their pets, or joggers, and cyclist, and along with that a lot of noise. There are days when that is fine however, sometimes I just want more of that sense of peace.
Also I have always I think been a little bit curious about who some of the residents are, and this curiosity has led me to the idea of the historical aspect of cemeteries, and of the past figures residing there.
So that is why I have created this small series called Cemetery Residents, not in any morbid way, but a way of discovering interesting facts, and of people who are long gone. I will eventually begin this series with the famous duo Birke and Hare, and of their grave robbing escapades.

Reading and Contemplating

           I just recently read the novel “Execution Dock” by Anne Perry. I am a huge fan of Victorian History, and she definitely is great at describing the period and the atmosphere of London at the turn of the century. The characters come alive, and you do get the sense of the depravity, and of the poverty encountered in the slums then.
           The first chapter opens with an exciting chase scene; however I found I did get a bit restless when reading the chapters of the court case.  Though I must admit, it could be my state of mind at the moment, as I am a bit distracted. The theme of the novel was quite heavy, and as usual I found myself contemplating life’s miseries, as I find I frequently do, and I have always been curious about whether the poor of London ever found some kind o f happiness, or was life just filled with misery, and tragedy.
           I understand this is fiction, but I believe it is also based on fact, and history. The problems then still exist to this day, and I find some times the state of the world a bit dismal. Even then, it paid to have a really good lawyer, and I guess even though I was restless during the trial scenes, I came to understand how devious and clever a good lawyer can be. It showed how easily evidence, or lack of, can be twisted to discredit good people.
           Of course the heroes Inspector Monk and his wife Hester rally together, and find a way to put a stop to the evil Jericho Phillips, and his disturbing child sex slave trade.
            I enjoyed the history of the novel, but the theme of the crime I found obviously disturbing; but what I really got out of the book, was the enormous research put into it, and this revved up my own research curiosity, as I would love to know more about the Mud Larks, and their survival. Could you imagine, children at the age of five, trying to earn a living, wading in sewers, and the dirty Thames bare foot. Unreal! And absolutely heart-breaking, it is stories like this that make me think how easy my own life is, and wonder about what I call the see-saw of life, and why some people have so much now, or then, and why others lived such a tragic life, like that of the character Fig.

The Stranger’s Dilemma

           It was strange that night, I had not noticed how quickly the darkness had fallen; and that a stirring fog had risen off the cobbled streets. I remember stopping, looking up, and just as I was coming out of my reverie, I had become aware that the storefronts were being shuttered, and that the throngs of people from earlier had thinned, until only a few stragglers bustled up the road. I had no real purpose that evening, other than to get some air, and mull over my perplexing situation.
       It all began about a fortnight ago whilst I was talking to an acquaintance. We had met just outside one of our local public houses, a half hour before eight, when suddenly a man came staggering down the road, hollering and screeching. At first my acquaintance smiled, and commented how it seemed someone had had a very merry evening in deed. I remember smiling back, and then shaking my head in the direction of the man. However, it was not a second later that the drunken man had fallen against my friend, breathing rapidly and slurring.

The Pumpkin Man

“Don’t forget to bring back those herbs, fer your brother, now.” She stared at her daughter, hands on her hips.
“If yer brother weren’t so sick, I wouldn’t be sending you at all, but I need those herbs” she continued, shaking her head “….and I know how imaginative ye are….I swear your fanciful ways, do worry me child”
“Mother I’m 13 now, I’m not a child” She answered back.
“I don’t know?? I don’t have a choice….do I…..okay, get along with you, and keep yourself wrapped up, it’s getting bitter cold, and don’t take the short cut, ya hear me child.” she turned and grabbed a small hamper, she handed it to her young daughter, “and give her these preserves, I’ve been promising them for weeks, and mind yourself.”
“I’m just going up past the schoolhouse, it’s not so far”
“Watch out fer the ghosts and goblins!” a voice shouted out from  the back room, laughing, which quickly turned to a slight groan of pain. Stephen had tripped the day before, and a large cut had become infected.
“Never you mind that nonsense” their mother hollered back shaking her head. “ I don’t know why he has to put such fanciful things in yer head.”
“I’m not afraid,” she retorted, but shuddered slightly, and pulled her shawl about her even tighter.
“I don’t know…” Her mother, eyed her suspiciously but before she could finish Abigail snatched up the basket, and spurted to the door.

to be continued