The more we stroll around the Cambridge sights, the more I feel that my character and demeanour begins to resemble Dr Mortimer from The Hound of the Baskervilles—or, at least, the very probability of named resemblance lies in that direction, if to quote Mr Holmes himself.
The thing is, I adore graveyards. Unlike Mortimer, I don’t try to dig up the skulls of the prehistoric humans, but trying to decipher the already faded carvings on the gravestones is a sure thing for me.
It’s St Andrew’s church in Chesterton, which we visited last weekend: we’ve been there before, but I’m happy to see my good ole friend gargoyles alive and well.
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