Highgate to Hampstead - 11.7 miles

With prerequisite coffees in hand, Mister Ali, Dr J and I inched our way up Highgate hill, still slightly sleepy-eyed on Saturday morning. The entrance fee to the famed Highgate Cemetery was three pounds each. Dr J was a little surprised one had to pay to visit a graveyard, but I wasn't. Death, to my knowledge, has always been an expense.

While my comrades decided to pay their respects to Marx and other communists buried on site, I went for a wander around the grounds. It was a rather sunny day, which made it more pleasant than spooky.



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The guys pointed this one out to me. I still can't figure it out. Was this a solemn psychoanalytic gimmick to help those left behind to avoid denial? Was this a a blunt way, if someone were to rise from the grave, to let them know their current condition? Or or or...



I wandered into a little section of the graveyard which turned out to be the children's area. I should have guessed by the little teddy bear shaped headstone. This old lady was pottering around the graves, weeding and planting flowers. She told me that almost ten years ago, she met a Russian man. His son died and was buried here in Highgate, but his father returned to Russia. As it was such a long way for him to come visit the grave regularly (he visits when he can), she took it upon herself to take care of the grave.



My idea of hell actually: To be set in stone forever with a book, and no hands to turn the pages.



We crested the hill and entered the vast grounds of Hampstead Heath. It was a bit of a family scene, complete with ponds, ducks, children and dogs.



Some chaps from a wildlife bird society set up a tent with super powered telescopes. They were also helpful in identifying the species of birds, which was very educational for someone like me who thinks a squirrel is wildlife.







View from Parliament Hill. We clocked 11.7 miles.