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Yesterday Rohan asked us what we would be doing today and I replied, that it would be nothing, since we would take a much needed day of rest. And so we did, although ‘rest’ really means not going out and about. Instead we blogged, researched, booked tickets and organised photos. By late afternoon the ‘resting’ had worn me out and I was keen to get out and about again. A quick trip to the local cemetery was just the thing.
Every time we had walked past St Pauls, Monk Bretton, I had re-stated my intention to visit because, like all churches we have seen in England, the churchyard is also the graveyard. I spent some time reading every gravestone. The tenuous grasp on life that people in past ages had was clearly evident, with many families losing child after child. Not surprisingly, the verses showed a great acceptance of what life dished up, with many taking solace from the thought that God had selected their children to be with Him.
Crossing the road, we entered the newer section of the cemetery, and enjoyed a ramble until we were chased out at 8 p.m. by the cemetery workers. Actually they pretended to lock me in, so a sombre couple of hours ended with a laugh. 
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