Cemetery @ Bunhill Fields

There was a place I had never visited in my neighbourhood.
Bunhill Fields Burial Ground, that was.
Please don’t take a wrong end of stick. I was not at all superstitious. Far from it.
However, Mr.B disliked the place. Therefore, I never bothered to venture in.

Anyway, I decided to pay an homage there when Mr.B and I were walking back from the Monument the other day.  A luscious green facade of the cemetery was too tempting to ignore after trekking through a concrete jungle, City of London and dodging all those quick-marching City suits…


A cemetery in the middle of Central London.
It was so quiet. Just stepping in under the canopy of green foliage, we were insulated from any usual commotion of city life. Is this a tranquility? The air was fresh but not damp. The place seemed to possess the power to hush everything.

Rows of tomb stones, just standing still…


Some of them were leaning left and right.

As well as inscriptions of those who deceased, the stones bore the passage of time…


This head stone indicated that it had been standing here since the early 19th century. The occupants of the grave were all children, dying young within a short space of time. This reminded me that the life then was much harsher than the present one. My heart ached, wondering how their grieving parents felt when they had to add yet another name on the stone.

While it looked like the time stood still in the midst of the tombs, the only thing disturbed the silence was this…


Squirrels! So many of them.
They were absolutely everywhere, roaming around the head stones, shuffling leaves, scurrying up and down the trees… They seemed to be the least frightened by me or Mr.B. In fact, they were curious about him. One of them even ventured out to the edge of the fence and gave Mr.B a good “up & down look” inspection while he cowered behind me (=_=;)
Hey you. Show me a little more gut…


Alas, his tail being firmly tacked between his legs, he avoided the confrontation with Mr.Squirrel.

This rather grand tomb belonged to John Bunyan, the author of The Pilgrim’s Progress…


Mr.Squirrel was on duty, standing vigil.

The cemetery was dotted with well-kept wooden benches which offered a welcoming breathing space in the midst of offices around Old Street & Finsbury Square. We entered the cemetery from City Road entrance and walked across towards Bunhill Row.
Even though Mr.B was not at keen and needed a fair amount of persuasion and encouragement from me to walk, at least he was away from the fume on busy streets of London.

Aren’t you enjoying a bit of adventure?


‘No, not at all. Let me get out of here!’

Do you think he sensed something I didn’t? Did he see something supernatural through his doggie 6th sense? Or was he just frightened by the rustling noise made by the squirrels? Mmmm…

P.S. I’ve noticed a strange smudge on the second photo which I didn’t see then and can’t explain.
Hubbie is adamant that I must have captured some supernatural phenomenon. Really strange…

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