Not far from the horses in yesterday’s entry is Cemetery Road.
It leads to the entrance of Plumstead Cemetery, one I had not explored until last weekend.
Some of the graves were ancient, from the late 1800s (though I know there are much older graves elsewhere in London… where’s the oldest cemetery you’ve been to?)
Sadly, there were quite a few graves of children here, including a section of all babies through a little archway with Christmas decorations hanging down.
It was a thoughtful place, but also bustling with people visiting graves, some solemn, others chatting away with their neighbours.
We found a tree in full blossom, as if it were confused about the seasons, defying Winter with its signs of Spring.
You wonder sometimes how people so young can die. This girl above was only 10…and there was a photograph of her on the headstone in all of her giggling blonde brilliance.
This one had a little guard dog.
It’s been a windy week and many flower pots (or milk and soda bottles in this case) had blown over.
There was a Vietnamese section where people had left incense for their relatives who had passed on and stalks of bamboo for luck.
A lot of families had left Christmas cards on graves, decorated little Christmas trees with ornaments or lit an “eternal” flame.