This place has always given me the creeps....
I have driven past it every week since January, and even after two or three months I got the feeling that something was odd about the place. Burial plots, which had looked newly created, with the floral tributes upon them bright and fresh in January were the same in March - and in June. The colours were still vibrant, nothing seemed to be decaying naturally - it became for me a Place of the Undead - and that I found very sinister.

It had become obvious, even from briefly passing by on the road, that there was an abundance of artificial flowers in the flowers there, the reds, yellow, pinks and purples gaily arraying the graves day after day. So today, I decided to take a closer look - and it was an experience which reminds me, yet again, not to take things just on face value but to try to be open to experience.

Many graves do indeed have multiple garlands and posies of bright silk flowers upon them, and in truth, they do make me feel slightly uncomfortable - especially against the more naturally planted occasional grave, which seems subtle, more in harmony with the natural course of things.

But the thing which surprised me even more than the flowers (and I could only see this by walking amongst the graves) was the abundance of other secular tokens in tribute to the dear departed. Most popular of these seemed to be resin castings of fairies and sprites in all sizes and all complexities - peeking over, hopping about on and tumbling over the grave below. Cement teddy bears and bunnies were also in evidence, closely followed by several sets of glittering, gilded, mirrored wind chimes, giving an oriental atmosphere to certain areas.

I had thought on first glance that I needed to prepare myself to be shocked and not a little contemptuous about some of the frankly kitsch items present. All I can say is, after fifteen minutes walking amongst them, I left with a feeling of awe, of compassion and of the awareness of deep sorrow and abiding love which pervaded that little enclosure.

It seems that, in whatever way possible, and in whichever way is allowed, we all try to hang on to the things of this life, and to stretch out our hands and hearts though tokens to try to keep that last, infinitesimal grasp on our loved ones who have travelled beyond the veil. Things that they have loved in their lifetimes are placed as tokens on their graves (and probably inside as well) to keep our memories of them and their lives alive for us as long as possible. As it ever was - for did not our ancestors, Palaeolithic man, Iron Age man, Greek, Roman, Victorian? Right through history we do the same - bring tokens to accompany the departed on their journey, and set up memorials so that those left behind would not forget and could be helped to grieve?

Plus ca change plus c'est la meme chose. The symbols may be different - now Flower fairies fly and teddies bounce, a cricketer munches everlasting cucumber sandwiches, where once weeping stone widows might have sobbed upon an urn or cherub angels scattered stone petals and rosebuds - but the sentiment is the same. The atmosphere created by the silk flowers and the pink plastic flamingoes was actually friendly, warm and comforting - a place where families (who obviously wanted to create this environment) would be content to visit and stay a while.

I looked upon the contrasting austerity of the old graveyard with a different eye as I left, and my final thought was of the incumbent vicar of the Parish. I would be interested to ask him about his philosophy and feelings about the graveyard in general, but also to compliment him on the kindness and flexibility of his approach. Since most churchyards and cemeteries are now very rigidly controlled with all sorts of rules and regulations about what is and is not permitted to be displayed, (and usually falling into mostly the "thou shalt not" form of diktat), I feel his approach is both accommodating and compassionate, and that is the sort of person which I think I would like to meet.