Karl Marx, Highgate Cemetery

‘Rather, you tell us that the same spirit has a body again elsewhere and that death - if what you sing is true - is but the mid-point of a long life.’
The Celts, a History : Daithi O’Hogan

Today’s visit followed an enjoyable Sunday lunch and a mini family gathering at Stoke Newington. With the afternoon free I decided on a visit to say hi to Karl Marx, something I’d thought about many years ago but, as ever, didn’t get around to doing. A recent TV programme about Highgate Cemetery struck a resonant chord and I mentally added it to my list of places to visit, not really expecting to have much opportunity to do so yet, but you never know. When I checked the tube map I saw that our hotel, opposite Finsbury Park was close enough for a quick visit to Highgate, so the decision was made. Fortunately I’d checked beforehand where the cemetery was, and got off at Archway. It was too hot for the uphill haul (I’d already had my walk for the day to the pub lunch) so I grabbed the nearest bus heading (approximately) in the right direction – there was still a short uphill walk before I reached the entrance, with about 40 minutes left before closing time. At the entrance I was given a map of the cemetery which showed not only Karl’s tomb but also where Douglas Adams is buried. Some find it difficult to find, I was told, it’s not a big stone but you’ll probably see the pots of pens and sometimes there’s a towel draped over it, mementoes from other pilgrims. She was right, I did miss it on first pass then retraced my steps - no towel today but the pot of pens was unmistakable.
My quote for today, or a slight variation on it, was used at the fascinating Study Day at Lampeter (in a few days’ time, I’m posting this out of linear order) and it’s only in researching it that I have a sense of insight, perhaps, into my willingness to visit cemeteries for inspiration. Some further, paraphrased, extracts from the book refer to the Celts ‘unit of reckoning is the night followed by the day…Nicander, a Greek writer from the second century BC, affirmed that the Celts ‘spend the night near the tombs of their famous men’ and this custom is echoed by later lore from Ireland and Wales of druids and other wise men acquiring knowledge in the vicinity of burial tumuli.
When I mentioned my visit to Douglas Adams’ grave in conversation over lunch at Lampeter, one of the others casually enquired with a cheeky grin, ‘was it plot 42?’. I think he would have approved.