The story of one house in Lausanne Road number 6 ............ of conkers, trespass and Nunhead Cemetery

The story of one house in Lausanne Road over a century and a half, and of one family who lived there in the 1950s.*

A village churchyard, 1870

Even in daylight a cemetery can seem a bit of a scary place when you are nine and on a forbidden adventure.

Now I am not talking about village graveyards which by and large during the day and even at night are benign and not very intimidating.

Our own may have had many burials but was still small enough for the young and curious to see the farm houses and cottages to the east and west of its walls, the church directly ahead and hear the reassuring sounds of the Bowling Green Hotel behind it as well as the lights of the Horse and Jockey on the green.

No, I am thinking of those vast Victorian expanses of grass, trees, neglected internments and conkers.  Yes conkers, because when you are nine the beauty of the memorials and the tranquillity of the place are nothing compared to the huge numbers of freshly fallen conkers.

But to get them you have to enter the place without being seen which usually involved climbing over the high railings in the early evening so as not to come across any one.

Nunhead cemetery, 1872

But that in turn meant you ran the risk of forgetting the time and being caught as dusk fell, which is not so good an idea.

I remember one day late in September and a decision to get into Nunhead Cemetery where my friend Jimmy maintained there was always a huge pile to be had.

All went well until it became apparent that we had been caught out by the time and with the light fading fast it did not seem such an inviting place.

Moreover it was difficult to retrace our steps towards the safety of the outside and so bit by bit the tall trees and the imposing gravestones took on a more sinister and menacing appearance.

And it was with a degree of relief and a bit of shamefaced embarrassment that we found the railings and made good our escape down Linden Grove and home, sadly with less conkers that we had planned and a little later than we had promised our parents.

Nunhead Cemetery, 1998

Looking back at those railings I am amazed we were able to get over them.

Now I have never been back to Nunhead Cemetery, which is a shame.  It was opened in 1840 by the wonderfully named London Necropolis Company.

By the time I was wandering through the place it was almost full and had all been but abandoned.

And as you would expect it slowly became an overgrown expanse of trees and wild life, which has in turn been rescued by the Friends of Nunhead Cemetery.**

All of which drew me into the story of the London Necropolis Company.

“The London Necropolis Company (LNC), formally the London Necropolis & National Mausoleum Company until 1927, was a cemetery operator established by Act of Parliament in 1852 in reaction to the crisis caused by the closure of London's graveyards in 1851. The LNC intended to establish a single cemetery large enough to accommodate all of London's future burials in perpetuity. 

The company's founders recognised that the recently invented technology of the railway provided the ability to conduct burials a long distance from populated areas, mitigating concerns over public health risks from living near burial sites. 

On a day in 1958

Accordingly, the company bought a very large tract of land in Brookwood, Surrey, around 25 miles (40 km) from London, and converted a portion of it into Brookwood Cemetery. A dedicated railway line, the London Necropolis Railway, linked the new cemetery to the city.”***

And what followed were more of the same of which Nunhead was the seventh.

All of which I suppose is a long way from conker hunting on a warm September evening in south east London, but then I no longer need to venture into such places.

The Rec opposite where we live supplies all we might need which sadly is few, given that all my lads are now grown up and have long since exchanged a conker and string for far more mature pastimes.



Pictures; Nunhead Cemetery, 1872, from the OS for London 1872, courtesy of Digital Archives Association, http://www.digitalarchives.co.uk/ Nunhead Cemetery Gates from the collection of Adrian Parfitt, 1998, the village graveyard Chorlton-cum-Hardy, circa 1870, from the Lloyd Collection, a young Andrew Simpson, circa 1961 from the collection of Andrew Simpson

*The story of one house in Lausane Road, http://chorltonhistory.blogspot.co.uk/search/label/The%20story%20of%20one%20house%20in%20Lausanne%20Road

** Friends of Nunhead Cemetery, http://www.fonc.org.uk/

*** The London Necropolis Company, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/London_Necropolis_Company

Walking in Nunhead Cemetry

I have decided to find out what I can about the Chicken family.

They were buried in the cemetery between 1872 and 1917 and between them their lives spanned the 19th century.

The first was Mary Ann Chicken who was born in 1799 and that last was William who died in 1917.

And the historian in me wonders what events of that century and a bit impacted most on the family.

After all Mary Ann would have been sixteen when the news of Waterloo came through and just 38 when the old Queen ascended the throne.

I would like to know where they lived, how they made a living and their connection with Nunhead.

And perhaps I might also find a little about the people who the thoughtful or perhaps mournful angel stands over.

Pictures, Nunhead Cemetery, from the collection of Sue Simpson

Warm days in Nunhead Cemetery

Soon those warm summer days exploring Nunhead Cemetery will be over.

Already the mornings are cooler and as the nights draw in there will less opportunities to walk through the place.

So with that in mind here is another of those photographs from Sue Simpson taken in July









Picture; walking in Nunhead Cemetery, July 2015, from the collection of Sue Simpson

Walking again in Nunhead Cemetery

Now we are entering that time of year when more than 55 year ago I wandered into the cemetery in search of conkers.

It’s a story I have told before and it is a moment shrouded in shame.

So I shall say no more of the event but given that many more have and will continue to follow my footsteps I think it is time for a few more of those evocative photographs by Sue Simpson taken in the summer.

Picture; walking in Nunhead Cemetery, July 2015, from the collection of Sue Simpson

Walking in Nunhead Cemetery

Now I have returned to Nunhead Cemetery to feature a series of photographs taken by Susan Simpson during the summer.

Like many people it is a place which has a special magic offering somewhere to browse the history of our part of south east London, catch up on some fascinating wild life and just enjoy the peace and solitude.

So here is the first of a number of Sue’s pictures that capture all of that and a bit more.

Picture; Nunhead Cemetery, 2015, © Susan Simpson, 

Walking in a cemetery ........... with thoughts of Nunhead

Now I have been wandering through Nunhead Cemetery with the help of a set of pictures taken by Adrian Parfitt, and decided to close with this one which I have to confess is a bit of a cheat.

It was taken 180 miles north of Nunhead in Southern Cemetery which was opened a full 39 years after Nunhead and is now the largest municipal cemetery in the country.

But like Nunhead it was part of that Victorian drive to apply rationality and uniformity to all things including the burial of the dead.

The centuries old practice of interring the dead close to the living in city centres was regarded as unhealthy and I suspect all too messy for many Victorians, added to which many of these small ancient burial grounds were all but full.

And Southern Cemetery continues to do the business of tending to the dead.

Picture; Southern Cemetery, 2014, from the collection of Andrew Simpson

Walking in Nunhead Cemetery ...............

Now Nunhead Cemetery is one of those places where you can have a history lesson while watching some fascinating wildlife, stumble across an interesting building or just enjoy the solitude.

Of course foremost it is a cemetery which was part of that Victorian drive to apply rationality and uniformity to all things including the burial of the dead.

The centuries old practise of interring the dead close to the living in city centres was regarded as unhealthy and I suspect all too messy for many Victorians, added to which many of these small ancient burial grounds were all but full.

So in 1852 the London Necropolis Company set about planning and establishing big out of town resting places.

The first was at Brookwood in Surrey and with that typical Victorian ingenuity the company also added a dedicated railway line which opened in 1854 and provided a train service for the mourners, and their deceased loved ones direct from Waterloo to Brookwood.
Nunhead was the seventh.

It was opened in 1840 and originally was called All Saints Cemetery and continued the business of interring the dead till by the middle of the last century it was almost full.

And after its closure it pretty much was left to its own devices which I guess will have been when I wandered in looking for conkers, but that is a tale I have already told along with its  restoration by the the Friends and the Council.

I can’t remember when I was there but it was only the once and seen through the eyes of a ten year old so I am pleased that Adrian has sent these pictures of the place, and I rather think I will post more of his Nunhead photographs through the summer.

Pictures; Nunhead Cemetery, 20014 provided by Adrain Parfitt

*The story of one house in Peckham number 6 ............ of conkers, trespass and Nunhead Cemetery, http://chorltonhistory.blogspot.co.uk/2015/06/the-story-of-one-house-in-peckham_13.html

Of conkers in Nunhead Cemetery, and the Great Chorlton Burial Scandal

Even in daylight a cemetery can seem a bit of a scary place when you are nine and on a forbidden adventure.

Now I am not talking about village graveyards which by and large during the day and even at night are benign and not very intimidating.

Our own may have had many burials but was still small enough for the young and curious to see the farm houses and cottages to the east and west of its walls, the church directly ahead and hear the reassuring sounds of the Bowling Green Hotel behind it as well as the lights of the Horse and Jockey on the green.

No, I am thinking of those vast Victorian expanses of grass, trees, neglected internments and conkers.  Yes conkers, because when you are nine the beauty of the memorials and the tranquillity of the place are nothing compared to the huge numbers of freshly fallen conkers.

But to get them you have to enter the place without being seen which usually involved climbing over the high railings in the early evening so as not to come across any one.  But that in turn meant you ran the risk of forgetting the time and being caught as dusk fell, which is not so good an idea.

I remember one day late in September and a decision to get into Nunhead Cemetery where my friend Jimmy maintained there was always a huge pile to be had.  All went well until it became apparent that we had been caught out by the time and with the light fading fast it did not seem such an inviting place.  Moreover it was difficult to retrace our steps towards the safety of the outside and so bit by bit the tall trees and the imposing gravestones took on a more sinister and menacing appearance.

And it was with a degree of relief and a bit of shamefaced embarrassment that we found the railings and made good our escape down Linden Grove and home, sadly with less conkers that we had planned and a little later than we had promised our parents.

Looking back at those railings I am amazed we were able to get over them.

Now I have never been back to Nunhead Cemetery, which is a shame.  It was opened in 1840 by the wonderfully named London Necropolis Company.  By the time I was wandering through the place it was almost full and had all been but abandoned.  And as you would expect it slowly became an overgrown expanse of trees and wild life, which has in turn been rescued by the Friends of Nunhead Cemetery, http://www.fonc.org.uk/

All of which drew me into the story of the London Necropolis Company, Victorian cemeteries and our own here in Manchester.

“The London Necropolis Company (LNC), formally the London Necropolis & National Mausoleum Company until 1927, was a cemetery operator established by Act of Parliament in 1852 in reaction to the crisis caused by the closure of London's graveyards in 1851. The LNC intended to establish a single cemetery large enough to accommodate all of London's future burials in perpetuity. 

The company's founders recognised that the recently invented technology of the railway provided the ability to conduct burials a long distance from populated areas, mitigating concerns over public health risks from living near burial sites. Accordingly, the company bought a very large tract of land in Brookwood, Surrey, around 25 miles (40 km) from London, and converted a portion of it into Brookwood Cemetery. A dedicated railway line, the London Necropolis Railway, linked the new cemetery to the city.”*

And what followed were more of the same of which Nunhead was the seventh.
Manchester’s first municipal cemetery was opened in 1865 on the east of the city and was named after Mark Philips and was followed by Southern Cemetery in 1879.  Much the same reasons were there for the expansion of these big Victorian cemeteries.  Inner city church yards had become full and were endangering the health of the living.

In the small church yard of St John’s off Deansgate an inscription on the memorial records 22,000 were buried there during the  18th and 19th centuries,and  in Angel Meadow 44,000 people were interred between 1789-1816.

Here in Chorlton, our own Great Burial Scandal** highlighted the need for a large modern cemetery.  A Home Office inquiry in the November of 1881 uncovered grim reports of “human bones .... knocking about the highway. Only that morning a jawbone with teeth in had been picked up.” 

There were also past sextons who reported the difficulty in finding space to place a coffin and the ever present danger of unearthing past burials. William Caldwell described how he regularly “disturbed human remains in digging” and once before he “could get down to any depth I smashed into another grave, and I was flooded by liquor and human remains.”

All of which I suppose is a long way from conker hunting on a warm September evening in south east London, but then I no longer need to venture into such places.  The Rec opposite supplies all we might need which sadly is few, given that all my lads are now grown up and have long since exchanged a conker and string for far more mature pastimes.

* http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/London_Necropolis_Company

** http://chorltonhistory.blogspot.co.uk/search/label/Chorlton%27s%20Burial%20Scandal

Pictures; the parish churchyard and Southern Cemetery from the Lloyd Collection