Marston Village.

[Gramaisc]

Soon to be surrounded by houses and the HS2, but still an isolated backwater for now.

The church is a pleasant place.

 

[Gramaisc]

In a slightly elevated location, it may be subject to a little more frost than the surrounding area.

 

[Withnail]

... it may be subject to a little more frost than the surrounding area.

Either that, or someone's been doing some seriously hardcore 'weeping' over that stone.

Maybe it is not a reflection of the character of the interred that led to such an outpour, but more a case of buyer's remorse?

Perhaps whoever bought it was taken in by some sleazy sales spin that 'such a fine headstone will stand the test of time' by the Undertakers.Told it was of the very finest and worth every penny. Vulturing on the stench of grief, climbing higher on its thermals, the Undertaker sees easy meat. Gets much, but gives little.

After a ruinous harvest, a year on the engraving was already barely legible. All that money that had been scrupulously saved to mitigate against just such failure, squandered on nothing but cheap stone and empty words.

The mourner stands over this monument to unnecessary pride, a monument, too, to the heartlessness of commercial expediency. And weeps.

And as they weep, year on year, the hurt deepens as the stone dissolves. The tears flow harder, and as they roll down the stone it yields more and more until a hole appears. The mourner is on their knees, the hole is at their heart.