Saturday, 24 December 2016
A Detour To St. Andrew's Cemetery, Jesmond, Newcastle - Photo Blog Part 3
This post follows on from two others relating a trip to St. Andrew's Cemetery in Jesmond. I wasn't feeling like posting the final set of photos today but then decided that leaving them until tomorrow wouldn't be quite appropriate to the season.
Tomorrow is Christmas Day and maybe it would be a bit strange to post about death on the day devoted to celebrating the birth of Jesus. Strangeness wouldn't stop me of course - I'm the person who gave up church for Lent and who my wonderful Manchester friend constantly calls "a bit weird." She's being kind. She doesn't really mean the "a bit" part!
I left the Jesmond Community Orchard and returned to the cemetery. An excuse for more photos. These are only some of them. I won't write much about them because I confess I just got a bit sidetracked and wrote nearly 1500 words about Christmas before remembering I was meant to be writing about graves. I will post those words too - they are far more appropriate for tomorrow.
None of these graves appear in the book "Beyond The Grave: Newcastle's Burial Grounds." I didn't even see the grave of Dr. Thomas Headlam who, among greater achievements, was president of the Literary and Philosophical Society which I joined two days ago. Dr. Headlam died in 1864 so it would be a surprise to meet him. I'm not aware of any major hauntings in the building.
The photos. All totally unedited.
I like the names on some of the graves. Case in point: Valentin Jean Baptiste Jacquenot.
Also the name and place on this grave. Antonio Luis Paes Barretto - Da Marinha Brazileira
This next grave tells quite a sad story.
It bears this inscription:
It's very sad. Travelling by ship all the way to New Zealand for the good of his health he died a month after arriving. He died young too. But I have to confess - very mean person that I am - I burst out laughing!
Eventually it was time to leave the cemetery and head for home, just as I had intended before getting completely distracted in Jesmond. Getting distracted is a good thing sometimes. Although I have, yet again, got completely distracted from my cup of tea. There it sits on the floor. Cold. Mourning that it never got to be drunk.
Onwards to the Metro. And then home, happy to have seen somewhere new.