I had forgotten about this little jaunt until I read this post of Sherri’s for those of you who are yet to discover this gem of a blog, then I urge you to go there and get immersed in her wonderful style of memoir…
A while back, I went pottering through a graveyard, it was an unhurried type journey as such things always should be. I found myself reflecting on many a thing in the peaceful confines of its borders, aimlessly plodding around the circuitous path which I liked to think was some subtle nod to rebirth but perhaps I overanalyse things too much.It was around half past five in the PM when I discovered this peaceful place which has been around since the 1830’s and this being England and Autumn, there was a fine drizzle in the air. I think part of me was drawn to this place by the ending of my day out and also that melancholy feel that affects the single traveller with time on his hands.
It is strange to feel moved by the resting places of so many unknown people, the idea of lives lived, dramas finished, heartache and happiness played out to a natural conclusion is something that the living need to assimilate and enjoy what we have in the now. I always take delight in the juxtaposition of places and the graveyard is near Nottingham Trent University, where vitality and exuberance flows past the gates every day, something cheers me about that.Then of course there is the life in the graveyard, plenty of squirrels running around having fun doing acrobatics, unaware of the regard in which their playground is held. If I wasn’t being sentimental enough, I even gave a nod to various gravestones as I passed, it is strange what we do when alone.
The enduring thoughts on these places really do bring out the romantic in writers, I find, perhaps it is our thoughts of mortality that drive us to bring something vital to such places or maybe it is just the innate need to quantify the unknown and kid ourselves into thinking that we can truly understand.