Thursday, October 30, 2008

Not what it used to be ...

... death, that is: Traditional Gravestones, RIP. (Hat tip, Dave Lull.)

My hope is that, when I die, no one thinks, let alone inscribes in stone, that I am at last fulfilling my potential.

Mine, too, I guess.


  1. In my local churchyard there's a stone (18th-century) to the memory of a local character who was extremely large but a great dancer. The inscription is in verse and ends thus:
    Lay lightly on him, earth, for none than he,
    Though great his girth, trod more lightly on thee.

  2. That's wonderful, Nige. We won't be seeing the like of that ever again, I fear.

  3. Truly lovely, F 'n' N. Five will get you ten the local character's name was "Tiny."

    This makes me wonder if I'm the only one who has written the words I want engraved on whatever it is they engrave when cremains are involved — my urn? I know what I will have there; but, you shall either have to wait till I kick the bucket or drown me in it (unless others go first, that is).