Saturday 08 September 2012

Picture special

Though I don’t really feel I am a spiritual person I wouldn’t deny there is something different about being in a graveyard. I’m sure it all comes from the tranquillity of the silence that the places have; and they have silence because it’s a place where people remain quiet out of respect for people. I’m not going all right wing – as you supposedly do as you get older – but it is fair to say that the dead, as a group, are the last group that most people have respect for.

Why was I in the cemetery? Well I always get accused of being a bit of a hermit/miserable bastard because I like to sit inside when it’s sunny. Sit inside and hide from people. But two things combined, one: I thought a bit about Tony Wilson after reading something mentioning him, and, two: I thought maybe I should practice going for a walk in the sun as I’m going on holiday on in a few days.

I wasn’t sure about taking pictures of specific graves. Taking a generic graveyard shot is one thing – and I think you’ll agree, I have taken the best pictures of a graveyard/cemetery ever taken. Taking pictures of graves felt like it might be a bit tawdry or disrespectful. But they are like monuments to people aren’t they, graves? And pictures of monuments are common place.

I had found roughly where Mr Wilson’s grave was using a modern resource tool called ‘the internet’. Well I say found it using that – I more found it due to some trial and error. I was disgusted when finding it to have to walk past as there was a group of people standing there gawking at it, taking some pictures. Outrageous. So I waited until they went – pretending to be visiting a grave on the next plot – so I could gawk and take some pictures.

While there it seemed appropriate to visit the grave of Matt Busby. So, we did. Walking around looking for graves makes you think some kind of map should be available. There are maps, showing where each plot is. Maybe there should be a more detailed one, though, like the ones in the Manchester Arndale, The Trafford Centre and other shopping plazas.

All the graves are in sections, even within plots. There are clumps of Polish graves, clumps of Jewish graves and the like. Part of me thought it was a bit sad that even in death people couldn’t all be mixed. But people like to be together with like people, don’t they? Like neighbourhoods and stuff. I don’t think we’ll get to see if all cemeterys will become mixed bags as people are more likely to get burned nowadays aren’t they?

Rob Gretton’s grave is just around the corner from Matt Busby’s, so I stopped to pay my respects to his grave as well. It’s a bit odd really. Even though what he was part of his massive, the Rob Gretton I am most familiar with is the one portrayed by Paddy Considine in 24 Hour Party People.

Speaking of 24 Hour Party People I practised my Steve-Coogan-looking-over-your-shoulder-when-having-your-picture-taken look that he explained in The Trip. I don’t want to be critical but the picture is really shit isn’t it? My main observation of this picture is that it looks like I am trying to prove that my hair is the size and shape of one of those trees in the background.

After the photoshoot I stumbled upon a game of gaelic football on Hough End. When Irish people shout Callum it sound like they are shouting Gollum.

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