The living and the dead, not the living dead.

We have been on a bit of a holiday/visit with my parents in that there London, city of a million smells. Mum and dad were most pleased to see us both, as due to crap mental health and poverty, we have not been down in many a long year.
Spent the evening chatting, and then went to bed early as the road trip had been tiring, for Ruth because she was driving, and for me because......actually I have no reason to be tired in cars as I just fall asleep like a toddler after about twenty minutes.
A pleasant yet wet day dawned on saturday, and we went shopping in Dartford. There were ducks to look at, and the place had a nice community feel to it. Been years since I went to a proper London market, all the smells, and stall holders yelling their wares "APPLES EIGHTY PEE A PAAAAAAAAAND" "GIT YER FISH! FRESH 'ADDOCK, LUVERLY".
The evening was spent showing how clever we all were by answering questions on various quiz shows. It was a day that took me back to my childhood.
Sunday.
Sunday was the day when the family descended. Both brother, both sisters in law, and five kids. I fell asleep in the conservatory, only to be woken by my brother Daniel, waving yellow fruit at me, and yelling "Banana penis!". He's forty two. He's also an idiot.

Like I said. He's an idiot.

He grabbed a guitar (despite being a total fool, he is an excellent guitarist) and we did some soft rock, and Seth Lakeman songs, which was lovely.

I got to meet my nephews. Joshua, who is as tall as me now, and like a typical teen, had his headphones on, and was watching videos of other people playing computer games, but he smiled and nodded in recognition, Michael, who is a small sandy haired power house, and Jake who is tiny, and hit me in the head with some lego as a greeting.

Bother two, Stewart, arrived with his family a bit later. His lovely wife Claire was all smiles as usual, and Lilly, their daughter was instantly a whirlwind with michael. She's a charming pixie child, and has the charming wiles of a Bene Gesserit matron mother.

The youngest, louie, sat and stared owlishly around, occasionally wiggling. He cried when I picked him up.

I ended up playing under the dining room table with the rest of the kids.

from left, Joshua, Louie, Michael, Lilly, Jake. They look calm now.

Lilly and Louie seemed to really like Ruth.

Much fun, and wiggling.

It was a very loud experience, but so good to catch up. Mum insisted on a photo of her three idiot offspring. the only problem was as soon as we sat next to each other, I pinched Daniels nipple, and Daniel punched Stewart in the nuts.

Brothers never change.

See how Stewart is protecting himself.
And yes, that is a stuffed toy dog on my shoulder. He's called mister woof.

We slept well.

Monday was adventure day. Highgate cemetery beckoned ( figuratively speaking, neither Ruth or myself are dead). We hopped aboard the train, and to our surprise, didn't need tickets! We could pay with contactless! Truly we are living in the future.

The journey was pretty easy, and with a small help from google we made it just in time for our tour.

Highgate west gatehouse.

Highgate west cemetery is gorgeous. Over the years self seeding trees have gradually reclaimed what was once a swathe of grass, transforming the area into a liminal place of dappled shade, with headstones and tombs rising from their midst like so many mayan ruins. The sounds of the city fade away, leaving bird song, rustling leaves, and the squeak and patter of squirrels.

Beautiful decay.

The group went around the cemetery, with a most informative and helpful guide, who told us stories and information about some of the people who now resided beneath us. The was the victorian soldier, whose tomb was shaped like the peninsula he fought upon. The resting place of dissident Alexander Litvinenko, poisoned by the kgb. The first plot to be filled, not by a rich noble, but by a common woman called Elisabeth, whose husband had her interred there so the grave wouldn't get robbed, like his daughters had. The famous british prize fighter who forever lays beneath the effigy of his favourite dog. The ruthless menagerist and self publicist whose last resting place is under a sleepy lion. The man who had the largest horse slaughter business of his day. So many lives past, so many fascinating insights into our history.

plot 1 Highgate west.

The catacombs, beautiful but sobering.

The circle of Lebanon, not actually in Lebanon.
There's a lebanon tree in the middle.

The Egyptian avenue. Flashy Victorians were flashy.

There are rare bats and spiders in the catacombs, and as we made our way around the bats flitted about us, clearly not pleased at strangers trudging through their house. We didn't see the spiders. So that's good.

There were an amazing array of people around us, all gently returning to the soil together, from father of electricity Michael Faraday, to the sad grave of some unnamed teenage prostitutes. 

He would be shocked at the size of his gravestone.

The empty patch is the last resting place of some victorian child prostitutes.

It was a long walk round, and my gammy knee was playing up, so we went for lunch. 

After a suitably delicious repast it was time to visit the east cemetery. But that is another post.