Very often, I don't talk to anybody else on my country walks and explorations but today's adventure began differently.
At Tibshelf Cemetery in eastern Derbyshire, I met the two men shown above. They are Dean and Ashley and they work for Tibshelf Parish Council. As well as maintaining the cemetery, they have several other responsibilities within the parish and often receive instructions from councillors.
Dean has worked for Tibshelf since 2002 and Ashley joined him eleven years ago. I conversed with them for twenty minutes or so . They were both proud of the fact that they had never had a single day off for illness and I was struck by the pride they clearly had in caring for Tibshelf come rain or shine.
After they had driven off in their van, I took the following picture of Nethermoor Cottages and then walked back into the cemetery grounds.
There was only one other person there - a lone man leaning over his car door and looking at a floral display that spelled out the word, "Sister". He raised his hand to me in greeting and said "Hello". He was probably my age or a little older.
Soon we were engaged in a conversation about the death of his wife. Seems like she had complained of a pain her stomach last September. One thing led to another and she died from stomach cancer on January 11th. Her cremation took place in the first week of February.
"It must all feel so raw", I said to him.
He wanted to talk. He seemed quite lost, still not quite believing that she had gone.
"She was always knitting," he said. "And I miss the clicking of those needles when I am watching the telly. It's so quiet now."
They had been married for forty nine years - not quite making their golden wedding anniversary. He confided in me that she had not been able to bear children but they had been very happy together all the same. They had a touring caravan that they often took to the coast.
"Look after yourself," I said as he left him with his reflections. "Keep going!"
"I'm not sure I can," he replied with a slightly ominous grimace.
Soon I was in Newton, a former mining village that is just half a mile south east of Tibshelf. I spotted the street sign shown above and would love to know for sure why that street acquired such an unusual name - Wire Street. The 1888 map of the area offers no clue.
Above - Newton Methodist Church which would have once enjoyed a congregation of coal miners with their families. Below, an old cottage opposite St John the Baptist Church in Tibshelf. This would certainly have predated the age of coal.
from Yorkshire Pudding https://ift.tt/qua87Wr
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