Birthdays, bees and blossoms (plus a few graves)

Saturday 2 July 2022 was Southampton parkrun’s 10th birthday. Sadly, event number 448 did not have the brightest, sunniest weather. The wind was whistling across the flats so much the balloons wouldn’t stay still for my photographs, and looking at the clouds, I couldn’t help wondering if we would all stay dry. The possibility of getting wet didn’t appear to have deterred the runners. As the magic hour of nine o’clock approached, more and more people arrived, and the Common began to fill with lots of smiling faces. Soon the crowds began to gather at the start line.

In time-honoured fashion, the movement towards the start line was my cue to head towards the Old Cemetery. Running may be great fun for those doing it, but I prefer my exercise to be a touch more sedate and solitary. Besides, the cemetery is sheltered from the wind. As I walked across the flats, I could hear Event Director Rob begin his speech. Maybe I should have stayed to listen, but the call of the cemetery was too great.

Some people wonder what I can possibly find to interest me in the cemetery week after week. ‘Surely you must have seen every grave by now,’ they say. There are around 116,800 graves, though, and while some of them feel like old friends because I pass them so often, there are many new and interesting ones still to find. Graves aren’t the only thing of interest either. Although it is one of the oldest municipal cemeteries in England, it is managed to encourage and preserve the diversity of flora and fauna. Grass cutting, for instance, is carried out at different times of the year and in varying frequencies in each area. Some may not like the wild, overgrown look, but I think it adds to the charm of a walk here.

In early July, long grass sways gently in the breeze beneath the gnarled trunks of the trees, and the waving seed heads give the appearance of a meadow rather than a graveyard. My walk along the winding paths takes me through shady areas of breathtaking beauty, past brambles with swelling fruit and into sunny enclaves alive with the sound of birds and bees. Funeral services use the words ‘In the midst of life we are in death,’ from the book of Common Prayer of 1662. In this cemetery, it feels as if it is the other way around — in the midst of death, the world still bursts with life. If the dead do linger in some form, what a beautiful place they have to spend eternity.

Of course, the gravestones and the stories they have to tell are a big part of my Saturday morning walks. Sometimes I think I should be systematic, make a grid and catalogue each grave, but this is a fleeting idea. I prefer to wander aimlessly and wait for the graves to find me. Every so often, as I stroll along the paths, one will call out to me, begging to be seen and have its story told. On this particular Saturday morning, the first to catch my attention was the grave of J White. Jessie White was born in Southampton to Francis and Jessie White and lived with his wife, Helena, at 4 Chapel Road, St. Mary’s. He was a fireman on the HMHS Glenart Castle and died on 26 February 1918, aged 28.

The Glenart Castle was one of the hospital ships sunk by U Boats in the closing months of WW1. I spent some time researching them when I was writing Plagued. Little of that research made it into the final draft, but Hetty did give the hospital ships a passing mention —  ‘Imagine surviving getting wounded and thinking you were going to be fine because you were being sent home, only to have that happen.’ The Glenart Castle was built in 1900. When she was launched, she was named Galician, but in October 1914, she was requisitioned as a hospital ship and renamed. At 23:40 on March 1917, she struck a mine in the English Channel. The watertight doors to the engine room were damaged, and the boiler room began to flood. Thankfully the 115 crew, 68 medical staff and 525 wounded men were safely evacuated, and the ship was towed into Portsmouth. It was November 1917 before she was returned to service.

On 25 February 1918, HMHS Glenart Castle left Newport, South Wales, to pick up wounded men in Brest, France. In the early hours of the following morning, fisherman, John Hill, saw her in the Bristol Channel, ‘With green lights all around her. She had her red side lights showing and mast-head light, and also another red light which I suppose was the Red Cross light.’ An hour later, at 04:00, she was close to Lundy Island when German U-Boat UC-56 spotted her and fired a torpedo. She was hit in No 3 Hold and, within eight minutes, had sunk. Some of her lifeboats were launched, but the seas were rough, and only one survived the night. Four rafts were found in the early afternoon by USS Parker. The crew did their best to rescue the nine exhausted men clinging to life. During the rescue, fireman Jesse White was washed astern and injured by Parker’s propellor. He had come so close to being saved, but sadly, he died on board a short while later. Of the 182 onboard Glenart Castle, only 29 survived.

The second grave to catch my attention was also a war grave. It belonged to Wallie Mewett. Walter Mewett was born in Eastbourne in 1882 and was already in the Royal Sussex Regiment 2nd Battalion when war broke out. He was amongst the first men sent to the Western Front, where he took part in the battles of Mons and Ypres. Sadly, by March 1916, the horrific conditions had taken a dreadful toll on Lance Corporal Mewett, and he was sent home with TB. He died at the War Hospital in Epsom, leaving a wife, Florence, and a baby daughter, Irene, who lived at 7 Birmingham Street Southampton. Florence survived until 1950 and is buried wither her husband.

The grave is also a memorial to Wallie’s two brothers, Alexander and Leonard. Both died during the war. Alexander was born in 1891 in Jevington, Sussex. Like his brother, he was in the Royal Sussex Regiment. On 30 June 1916, his battalion was one of those sacrificed in a diversionary raid on the Boar’s Head in Richebourg. It was an attempt to draw German attention away from the Somme battle, further south. The Battle of Boar’s Head lasted less than five hours. Over one thousand men of the Sussex Regiment were wounded or captured, and 17 officers and 349 other ranks were killed. Alexander was one of the dead. He is buried in Guards Cemetery Windy Corner, Cuinchy, Calais. Leonard does not appear to have been in the forces, and I’m not sure how he died. All I can say is that it was in Eastbourne on 28 April 1917.

As I wound my way through the long grass, watching my feet on the narrow trail, I noticed bees and butterflies dancing all around me, enjoying the knapweed and rosebay willow herb. I did attempt to photograph the butterflies but had more success with the bees because they were so intent on gathering pollen that they let me get closer.

With no mud to bother me, I’d wandered along the narrow side trails without really paying attention to which direction I was going. These trails wind and twist, and visibility is often obscured by trees, so it’s easy to get lost unless you stick to the main paths. When I saw the chapel roof ahead, I realised I’d been heading away from the flats rather than towards them as I’d thought. A quick look at the time told me I should be heading back towards parkrun if I didn’t want to miss the milestone runners I was supposed to be cheering over the finish line.

Rather reluctantly, I began to head back along the main path, stopping now and then to take another atmospheric photograph, of course. How could I resist?

When I arrived back at the flats, I was surprised to see the finish funnel empty. At 9:24, I would have expected to see a mass of finishers queued up to have their bar codes scanned. Obviously, Rob’s speech had gone on longer than expected, and the start had been delayed. There was a band set up beside the finish straight. They were playing Valerie as I walked across the grass. It was more than a minute before the first finisher came past.

The first of my milestone runners came past a little later. Dave Hawkins, known to most as Big Dave to distinguish him from all the other Daves, usually runs at Eastleigh parkrun. He’d decided to mark his 450th run at Southampton and was running with his son, Nick.

A little later still, Gareth Jones crossed the finish line for the 500th time. Gareth is a stalwart of Southampton parkrun. Come rain or shine, he cycles around the Common at an ungodly hour every Saturday, setting out all the parkrun signs, then taking them down again after he has finished running. He got a resounding cheer as he ran along the gravel path to complete his milestone run.

Southampton parkrun started on 7 July 2012. Since then, 28,829 participants have completed 296,216 parkruns covering a total distance of 1,481,080 km — or almost 37 times around the globe. There have been 46,705 Personal Bests, and 2,382 individuals have volunteered 19,617 times. Before COVID, there were regularly 1000+ runners every week. Numbers have not quite reached those dizzy heights again, but 840 runners turned up for the 10th birthday celebrations, and 49 volunteers made the whole thing possible. Southampton parkrun has come a long way since 7 July 2012, when just 254 runners took part in event number 1. I wonder what the figures will look like in another ten years?

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