i think dreamy things as i'm waving goodbye

Before I begin today, here are pictures from yesterday, of us at the Chinese restaurant:

Today was the day of Jan’s foot surgery, so Jan and Jack were out of the house all morning. So I cycled into Wisbech. I only made one wrong turn and corrected it before I’d gone too dreadfully far. There’s a cycling path all the way into Wisbech, which meant that I didn’t have to cycle right on the busy road.

There's a place where the houses are on the other side of the dike from the road, so they either have to put in a pipe and cover it over with dirt, so as to have more garden, or build a bridge:

I would build a bridge.

Isn't this a pretty street name?

Culverts in England are so pretty.

I stopped first at Asda, which is the English Wal-mart. I didn’t know it until I saw on a sign, “part of the Wal-mart family”. I was a little bit disappointed by this, as I would have liked it to be more entirely British. But it is nicer inside than a Wal-mart in the states. It’s sort of half-way between Meijer and Wal-mart, but smaller. Jan says the one is Wisbech is smaller than most, though, because it’s a small town. I bought some pink-and-whites, because they were only 32p and they’re pink and white marshmallow between wafflecone rectangles.

After I left Asda I thought I might just go on home, because I didn’t want to spend any more money and I didn’t know where to go besides to stores, but there was a road that looked interesting, so I turned down it.

I found a park with several people walking dogs. It made me think "It's a dog party! A big dog party!"

And I found the old Wisbech cemetery.

It looked fascinating, so I locked my bike to a bench

and wandered in.

It was so lovely and fascinating and peaceful and thoughtful. I wandered all through it – I never looked at the time, but I must have spent a good hour there. Some of the inscriptions were so sad or beautiful or both.

He died within three months of her.

That's what I want. I want to die within a few months of my husband.

In case you can't see it well, the stone on the left reads,

"In memory of Sarah Ellen, the dearly beloved wife of Hugh Hotson, who died Feb 18th 1898, aged 36 years. Also of Percy their son, born Feb 14th 1898, died Feb 21 1898."

I cried when I read it.

This is what is written at the bottom of the stone:

"Oh call it not death, it is life begun

The river is passed and the home is won

She is free from sorrow and free from pain

And if we are faithful, we shall all meet again."

These next two go together:

Two instances where a child survived their mother by less than a year:

Our Lizzie-Kate isn't the first one to have her name:

Another sad one:

"And art thou gone, my baby dear?

And is thy spirit fled?

And shall I never see thee more?

Sweet Simon, art thou dead?"

The tombstone was sunk into the ground so that I could not see Sarah's date of death. Somehow, I don't think that she lived long after that.

They knew how to write tombstone verses back then. No nonsense about stairways to heaven.

"Weep not for me nor wish me back,

For I from pain am free,

And in my Savior's arms I'll rest,

Where I have longed to be."

Brother and sister - he was seventeen, she was twenty-three. He lived only a month after she died. I wonder if it they had the same illness, or if they were just that close to each other.

I try not to post sideways pictures, but I found this very moving:

You probably can't read it, but Alice was fourteen. And instead of "Thy will be done" or "The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away" or "Rest in God", like most of the other stones, her father chose this:

Psalm 39:9. "I opened not my mouth, because Thou didst it."

After I had walked through the whole cemetery, I cycled back home. Which was difficult, because I was pedaling into a stiff wind all the way. I was quite exhausted when I made it back, which turned out to be at about 2:30. Then I had peanut butter and jam on toast and a banana for lunch, and then Jack and I left for Peterborough.

I don’t think that I have yet mentioned how incredibly green everything is. Especially the newly growing fields.

There were some chickens just wandering around in someone's front garden...

When we got to Peterborough we parked in a car park that was connected to a mall. We walked through the mall – stopping for a free sample of baklava – to the other side which is near the cathedral.

Then we went to the cathedral.

I had never been to a cathedral before. When we first saw it, I just stared, because it was so big and beautiful and overpowering. And we went inside, through the heavy doors, and it was quiet. And I walked around, and the quiet made me quiet inside too. And I sat down to think. But after a little Jack came and sat next to me. And he asked me what I thought of Peterborough cathedral. And I could only say, “I don’t think I can put it into words yet.”

And I walked all around the outside edge, and there were many places where someone was buried under the stone. And I thought how good it would be to be buried there, in a place full of God. And I wished that having the graveyard with the church hadn’t gone out of fashion. Because that’s where I would want to be buried.

Then the priest came walking past me, all in black robes, his feet making steady time on the stone, and said in a sort of cadence,

“This part of the cathedral is now closed to visitors, as we have a service beginning shortly.” So I nodded – I felt as though I should curtsey, but I didn’t – if I had been wearing a skirt, I probably would have – and walked out to the main entrance where Jack was, and we left.

I don’t have any pictures of the inside of the cathedral because it cost £2 to take pictures and I wanted to not think about pictures anyway.

Jack and I walked all the way around the outside of the cathedral.

This picture is blurry, but I'm posting it anyway, because it reminded me of Rohan.

A little old lady told us there was a garden, but we couldn’t find it. Unless the cloister was it, but there weren’t any flowers there.

“And if she considers a well-kept lawn to be a garden, who are we to deny it?” said Jack.

Then we went on out and back through the mall, and Jack bought baklava and I bought £2 worth of strawberry Turkish delight.

They sell produce in English malls. Weird.

And this sight in the mall amused me greatly:

Then we drove to the hospital to Jan, and she was very happy with the baklava, and so was the lady that she was sharing her room with, who had never had it before.

The lady’s husband came in soon after we finished it, which was good because there were only four pieces. And I didn’t like him at all. He made nasty remarks that were not at all funny. One relating to A21 (the organization that Jan and Jack’s daughter volunteers for, that works to free women from human trafficking) and another implying that I might be an illegitimate child. And I just in general couldn’t bear him, anyhow.

After he and his wife had gone, I had been thinking of saying something like,

“Sometimes I meet someone, and I don’t like them at all, and I wonder if it’s something wrong with me or them.” But I didn’t say anything, and then suddenly Jan said,

“What an extremely obnoxious man!” So we were all of one opinion on that subject.

They had said Jan could come home and didn’t need to spend the night, which made us all very happy, so we went home, and we were going to stop and get fish and chips but it was closed, so we came home and Jack warmed up celery leek soup and buttered homemade bread and that was tea.

And tomorrow I am taking the train to Oxford to see my dear friend Jane.