Tag: grave

November 12th – Also on the Chase on this magical afternoon, memorials of two very different, but conjoined wars.

Since it was Remembrance Sunday, I took in the Katyn Memorial, to the 25,000 Polish people – from troops to doctors, police to teachers – massacred in cold blood by the order of the Soviet Secret Police in the Katyn Forest, Poland, in 1940. The memorial was erected on the Chase some time ago, as Cannock has always had a large Polish population, from migration around the time of the Second World War. 

Shamefully, it took the Russians 50 years to admit to this atrocity, proof that the second half of the full two-part World War play inflicted it’s heaviest cost on Eastern Europe. There were many atrocities committed, by several different forces, all self-encapsulated horrors; it was as if grudges and conflicts unresolved by the First World War exploded and joined together upon the commencement of the Second.

The First world war was of course just as atrocious, but in different ways; the loss of a generation of men in the mud of Northern Europe can never be forgotten, particularly for a war ended by negotiation with no real victors. But the grave of Freda, the mascot of the New Zealand Rifles who were stationed here on Brocton Field towards the end of WW1 is almost whimsical in comparison to the Katyn tribute. But both are eloquent. Both are respected and tended.

And yet, we seem to learn so little from them.

October 1st – In and around Hints church, the fungi is booming; most of these examples were spotted in God’s Acre itself, with some remarkable specimens growing undisturbed amongst the gravestones and memorials. I spent a happy half hour there, just seeing what I could find, all the time with the feeling I was being watched closely. 

Then the reason for my feeling of paranoia became clear – I was being watched by an elegant, snooty siamese cat from the edge of the graveyard!

March 20th – It’s been 5 years since I last visited Freda’s Grave on Cannock Chase. It’s up near Brockton Field, and is a little historical curiosity. The resting place of a beloved Canadian military mascot, Freda the harlequin Great Dane (not a dalmatian as often claimed) who was stationed with her regiment here on the military camp that existed during the Great War.

It’s not in an immediately obvious place, and finding it on the heath high above the Sherbrooke Valley is a rite of passage for many a young Cannock Chase rookie.

Then you turn around, and that wide open landscape stretched to the distance, just waiting to be explored. Fantastic stuff.

You can read about Freda’s Grave here.

September 5th – On the way back, I popped to the church at Stonnall, to have another look for the grave of an old acquaintance I knew was there, but had been unable to find for years. I finally found it – slightly neglected, lettering disappearing to the weather, but still there – and unguardedly, I fell into memories for a while.

Decades ago, we’d cycled these lanes together, and discovered places like this quiet churchyard. We weren’t huge pals, but we rode together fairly often, and shared the odd pint.

As I looked from the churchyard over Stonnall, the air had a scent of autumn, and the landscape concurred. I felt a little autumn inside, too.

Time and memory wears you like a stream polishes a pebble bed.

Stepping back into the light, I got on my bike, and rode home.

Boxing Day – Out for a quick spin before the rains came in, and I headed to Stonnall Church, as I’d not been there for ages. It’s a lovely little church, mostly brick but with a stone extension on the rear. It looks such a homely little church, and the grounds surrounding it are full of curiosities – from the views of the surrounding village and hills to the sad, headstone-less grave under the hedge at the back. There’s a curious little war memorial made out of nails, and some of the most fascinating weather erosion I’ve ever seen.

Yet you could pass this church – high on the hill beside the road – and never notice it were there.

December 22nd – Near the top gate of Hopwas Churchyard, this pissy, dictatorial, arrogant notice. People pay to have their loved ones interred here. They pay for the service. Why shouldn’t they have more than one vase, or a card? Why must poppies and wreaths be removed within a month?

Heaven forbid someone might be sentimental in their loss.

The jobsworth cheeseparers who made these rules and posted them up will probably be sat somewhere now, wondering why churchgoing is in decline.