Grave matters

I had a summons from a fellow-vestry member this morning as I was washing the breakfast dishes: would I join her at the church to decide where the man from the War Graves Commission should put his sign? Not the kind of request you get every day, so off I went and stood watching a burly bearded chap in shorts (yes, shorts) dig a hole outside the church and concrete a pole into it. We chatted - mainly about how he loves working alone in such lovely places, and how in his van he's completely self-sufficient, with enough space to lie down and sleep if he has to and though he confessed he intended to use the church Portaoo, he was nevertheless provided for that too ...

We pried no further. But our graveyard, with its single obvious war grave (there are other military graves that perhaps ought to be clearer), is indeed a lovely place on a morning like today.

And the huge red rhododendron outside the rectory is already in bloom ... (see the extra photo)