(no subject)

[rebness]

Finally had the CRB check today, to make sure I won't murder or molest any patients. I handed over my passport, two utility bill letters, my National Insurance number, a hospital appointment letter and my bank card to be checked.

"But do you have anything with your National Insurance number on?" asked the Human Resources woman.

"No," I said, "because I don't carry the card around with me-- I thought we weren't supposed to do that. I just remember the number."

"But we need it to confirm you're European."

WHAT ABOUT THE BLOODY PASSPORT, WOMAN? What about nondescript pale, low-voiced, heavily English-accented Becky sitting there in her bloody Topshop clothes who has worked for you for a year now wielding her European Union passport? [/headdesk]

So, anyway. I think she finally relented and I'll be able to start murdering patients again next week. Good, good.

Mum lent me a book about our village's history yesterday, so after the CRB check, we decided to go on an impromptu tour of the village, with mum pointing out what buildings used to be used for, or who was murdered where, or angry!ghosts of quakers are supposed to haunt. We then got stuck in roadworks before heading back into the centre of the village to the old churchyard.

I don't know why I like churchyards; I just think they rock. Whilst visiting a bay in Kefalonia, my mum and I wandered off to have a look at a Greek churchyard and to stare at graves. YeahIknow.

Anyway, most of the graves were from the 1800s, with the oldest being around 1760. The same names kept cropping up, and I had two questions:

1. Where were all the people in the village buried before 1760, what with there being a lack of other graveyards?

2. Did they all inter-marry, or something?

Mum had no idea, either. I ranted at how only the lords and ladies of the parish had a well-tended area, whilst the riff-raff found inequality even in death. Then we just sat down for a bit and talked, about history and mortality and our own aspirations whilst the rain fell softly. A crow or something participated in the cliché and, you know, with did that bonding thing, over graves. Aww.

Comments

[setting-sun.livejournal.com]

Where were all the people in the village buried before 1760, what with there being a lack of other graveyards?

I suspect the answer to this is something you might not want to know! :/

But yeah, it's utterly ridiculous how many times you have to prove your nationality these days upon getting a job. I mean, how about a couple of verses of God Saves The Queen for good measure on top of the several thousand forms of ID? Christ almighty.

[pandorasblog]

I've heard that sometimes the remains in old graveyards have ended up being covered by new graveyards... I don't know; maybe once the place was full of bones which hadn't been visited for centuries, belonging to families who had long died out, whoever was in charge in the C18th moved the bones, or put them in a mass pit or something, and then they made a new start? I'm sure I've heard of precedent for this in more recent history, but it'd take someone like that Tony Robinson chap to tell you more about it.

And yesssss. If your passport is not sufficient proof of your Europe-ness, what's the point of it anyway?

[peregrinuscanus.livejournal.com]

I'm pretty sure that pre 1760, people would be buried in the churchyard but not necessarily have stones erected, so other people are now buried on top of them. Also, many many people were buried *inside* the church - the closer to the altar the better (q.v. King John in Worcester). When our church was renovated in the 1820's and a hard floor put in, people were literally sitting in pews with dirt and bits of Aunt Ethel under their feet. The church documents state that bones were quite visible amongst the debris on the floor. Y ou wouldn't want your restless swinging feet to kick up a skull, mind. I guess most people were buried outside and their bones have disintegrated by now - only the wealthiest lords and crusaders etc. would have monuments or slabs laid over their resting places.

[verastar99.livejournal.com]

"I don't know why I like churchyards; I just think they rock. Whilst visiting a bay in Kefalonia, my mum and I wandered off to have a look at a Greek churchyard and to stare at graves. YeahIknow"

*understands completely...mmm...crusty old churches*