Below are pictures of a Victorian graveyard I pass everyday on the way to work. Almost everyday when I go passed I just want to bunk off work and go and sit amongst the graves. I get spellbound by the place. It is so beautiful, particularily when sun is shining, it seems alive, like all the trees having taken on the spirits of the dead buried there. On some rainy days ,like yesterday morning, it gets shrouded in mist and dew drips from the ivy and it looks so mysterious and macabre. Sometimes it looks straight out of a Hammer horror. It makes me wonder about life and death, and nature, and trees and all the things I like to think about, it makes me want to become a poet, instead of going to work but I enjoy that little flash of inspiration in the morning it puts me in a good mood for the day.
This cemetery also has added mystery for me, as I remember my grandad, when I was little girl pointing it out and saying 'Your great great grandad is buried in there' now really this is very doubtful as I come from a long line of peasants and gipsies, and I've mentioned it to my dad and he'd never heard it before and my cousin did our family tree and there was definately no one rich enough. However the family tree revealed that my great grandad was a bastard (the single parent sort) there was no fathers name on his birth certificate and that my great great grandma gave a false name presumingly because it was such an awful thing then. My cousin didn't go any further back on this side, I think because my grandad was a complete bastard (the arsehole kind) and they didn't really care too much where he came from. But to this day I wonder if what he said to me was true, maybe he knew who his grandfather was and he entrusted me with the information. I do like to romanticise things, even though the idea of some old mill owner or MP knocking up my great great grandma isn't particularly romantic, the idea that I have a relative buried in that grand old graveyard some how is.
The cemetery also has a wonderful view, well it would have been wonderful a hundred years ago, now its a little cluttered by industry and housing but you can see a good way never the less. At the moment they are building a visitors centre there and I'm not sure if I like that idea or not, diggers make me nervous but I think they are just building on part that was cemented over anyway. I'm keeping an eye on the trees too, they did trim a few but I don't think they've cut any down.(Does anyone know of a job where I chain myself to trees to stop them being cut down, I think I'd be good at it) I really hope they don't ruin it, it is a special place.

P.S As it is National Poetry day I was going to write a poem about the singer songwriter James Blunt but I thought better of it, as I don't want to offend anyone.
P.P.S Started reading Watership Down for the first time and I think it's already my favourite book ever.