Norwood Cemetery (with photos)

Back in 2016 I decided I would write a blog post every month, which is a routine I have diligently stuck to ever since. It is the only “creative” thing I do after all, and I think it is important to set yourself rules and boundaries – even with hobbies and pastimes – in order to keep up momentum and avoid getting lazy. Doing nothing is an easy habit to fall into.

Those who have read my blog before will know that I like to moan and whinge a-plenty, and generally complain about my shit life; but I only do this on a public platform in order to (hopefully) entertain. I find this funny – probably because I’m really an egomaniac and I have a latent belief, buried deep down somewhere in the depths of my psyche, that I am God.

The only problem with this, is that at this moment in my life – I am happy – and therefore have nothing to say. I have developed Writer’s Block.

Naturally, in an attempt to remedy this, I went to the cemetery. I like to meander around graveyards, hoping to spot my name on a gravestone, or on the scout out for a burial that I can gatecrash (or at least observe from a distance whilst I’m hidden in a bush, having a wank like a good Peeping Tom).

In 2011 I decided to visit all the magnificent Cemeteries of London; a bold claim that I have yet to fulfil – and proof, as previously mentioned – that I find it very easy to be completely bone idle. I did, however, go to Highgate and Nunhead, previously blogged here;


The cemetery I visited this year was Norwood, meaning I can tick another of the “seven” off my list, though nothing of any amusement or note occurred while I was there (and at this rate I should have been all seven by sometime in the 2030s). They did have a Greek Mausoleum, where they inter the dead Zorbas, Tonys and smashed plates of this world – all very grand, and rather bigger and better than where I actually live.

And that’s all this blog post will be: a gap-filler and a bit of a copout, but who knows – maybe something bad will happen to me next month so I can attempt to say something mildly chucklesome once more. Comedy is just bad stuff that happens to other people at the end of the day – as you well know if you are reading this.

Here’s some photos (just to prove how inept I am with a camera):