With John on holiday, we took advantage of an unexpectedly beautiful day in Glasgow and headed out to the Glasgow Necropolis.

The morning had proved a little less restful than we’d planned, after my attempt to open a new business account met with the slight obstacle of forgetting my passport. John kindly offered to run back in the 30° heat to fetch it for me, thought it wasn’t until he got home that he realised that he, in turn, had forgotten his house keys. By the time he reconvened with Kim and me, John was decidedly not in the mood for further jaunts in the heat, but we finally managed to talk him off the ledge by way of some retail therapy and Starbucks.

I stopped to bin my empty cup, which these two evidently saw as an opportunity for a pit stop.

One of the more incongruous things I’ve seen of late: John in church!

(Technically a cathedral.)

Mere minutes before he burst into flames.

Kim took time out of her busy schedule as a style queen to join us for the day.

John receiving another god-forsaken offer from Domino’s.

I was summarily outvoted.

Just outside Glasgow Cathedral there’s a memorial for stillborn babies, launched in March 1998 by Glasgow City Councillor Elaine Smith, The Drumchapel Child Bereavement Support Group and the Stillbirth and Neo-Natal Death Association. The inscription read: “I will not forget you…I have held you in the palm of my hand. – Isaiah 49:15

A short climb later: the Glasgow Necropolis.

The history of the Necropolis (which I googled when we got home) is actually pretty interesting. Following the creation of Père Lachaise Cemetery in Paris a wave of pressure began for cemeteries in Britain. This required a change in the law to allow burial for profit. Previously the parish church held responsibility for burying the dead but there was a growing need to give an alternative solution. Glasgow was one of the first to join this campaign, having a growing population, with fewer and fewer attending church. The planning of the cemetery began formally by the Merchants’ House of Glasgow in 1831, in anticipation of a change in the law. The Cemeteries Act was passed in 1832 and the floodgates opened. Glasgow Necropolis officially opened in April 1833.

Fifty thousand burials later, it was declared “full” in 1851.

The shade of it all.

John and Kim hugged it out while I made a quick costume change. Skinny jeans not – shockingly enough – being conducive to hill-walking, that earlier shopping trip proved surprisingly serendipitous.

We played the (admittedly rather morbid) game of trying to find our birthdays on the gravestones but – after finding someone who not only died on her birthday but also bore her real name – Kim was quickly declared the winner.

And, for nostalgia’s sake, the very last picture taken on Betty: my beloved Nikon D90 and faithful photographic companion of three years.

On arriving home, we decided to check out the pilot for Hannibal, a show which I almost gave up on before it took a turn for the exponentially better midway through. Case in point: it took us 2 months to watch the first 5 episodes, and 2 days to watch the rest of the season.

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