Septimus Hyde – a tomb with a view

The re-imagined story …

I’ve been on some strange first dates in my time, but this one took the biscuit.

“It’s a lovely day. Let’s go for a walk round the cemetery,” she said, taking the initiative, as women so often do these days. When I was a youngster it was usual to ask a girl to go to the cinema on a first date, not to take a turn round a cemetery.

We paused at a crossroads where the meandering footpaths converged and she pointed out the grave of Trooper Cecil Howard Goodman. I was wearing the wrong glasses so she read the inscription to me.

“To the Memory of Trooper Cecil Howard Goodman 1st Co. Imperial Yeomanry who died November 11 1900 while fighting for his country in South Africa. Erected by his fellow clerks GWR Staff, Swindon, April 1901.”

I mentioned what an unusual headstone it was.

“He isn’t buried here of course, he’s in South Africa,” she said. “The headstone resembles the graves of the fallen soldiers buried in South Africa. There they heaped rocks on the grave to stop the wild animals digging up the bodies.”

How did she know such a bizarre fact?

The chapel was closed, but she could describe it perfectly.

“There used to be some lovely pews in there. Some said they were made in the Works. The council took them away a long time ago. Shame that.” We walked on.

“Poor Mr. Shopland – his was a tragic death,” she said pausing by a grave carpeted in primroses. I really hoped she wasn’t planning on going into detail.

At the end of the path, she stopped at a decorative headstone. Someone else she knew?

“Mr Septimus Hyde.” We paused while she read the inscription. “The story goes that he chose this plot because he could see his house from here.”

I looked around. The gardens on Clifton Street were clearly visible from this point, as the cemetery must be to those who lived in them. I assumed Mr Septimus Hyde must have lived there. I’m not sure how I’d feel about living alongside a cemetery.

“He must have had good eyesight,” she said, “he lived in Exmouth Street.” She looked at me with a twinkle in her eye. “Come on – I need a drink, and I don’t mean a cup of tea.”

This was the weirdest first date I had ever been on – but what can you expect when you’re pushing 80 – at least I’m not pushing up daisies.

The facts …

The eldest child of Henry Hyde, a tailor and his wife Elizabeth, Septimus was born in Worcester on May 26, 1846. He married Elizabeth Sturge at St. Peter’s, Worcester on August 2, 1868.

The UK, Railway Employment records, 1833-1956 state that Septimus Hyde re-entered the GWR as a Foreman in the Carriage Body Makers Shop on August 5, 1871. At the time of the 1881 census Septimus and Elizabeth were living at 5 East Street, New Swindon with their three children Frank E., Septimus G. and Robert.

Death of Mr. S. Hyde

A G.W.R. Foreman

Deep regret was expressed throughout the GWR Works, at Swindon, on Wednesday in last week, and especially in the Coach Body Making Department, when it was known that Mr. Septimus Hyde had passed away at his residence, No. 58, Exmouth Street. Deceased, who was born on May 26^th, 1846, was during his long service as foreman of the coach body making shop, a very popular official. He was ever kind and thoughtful to his men, willing at all times to hear their troubles and to give them advice. As a foreman he will be greatly missed both by his employes and by the GWR Company, to whom he was ever a very faithful servant. Deceased had been unwell for some time past, suffering from paralysis of the brain, but in spite of his doctor’s orders to stay at home he would be at his post. So late as Saturday the 21^st he was in the works attending to his duties. Later in the day he had a stroke from which he did not recover, and passed away at noon on Wednesday, deeply mourned by all who knew him.

Deceased served his time with the Oxford, Worcester, and Wolverhampton Railway Company at Worcester, a line afterwards taken over by the GWR Company. When out of his time he worked at various places until August 5^th, 1871, when he entered the service of the GWR at Swindon. Three years later, on August 8^th, 1874, he was appointed foreman of his shop, which position he held till the time of his death. The Royal train used for the Diamond Jubilee and subsequent journeys was made under his supervision. He leaves a grown up family to mourn their loss, his wife having predeceased him.

The deep respect in which the late Mr. Hyde was held in Swindon generally, and in the GWR Works in particular, was evidenced by the large attendance at the cemetery on Saturday afternoon, when the remains were interred in the family grave, where some eighteen months ago the deceased’s wife and daughter were buried. Hundreds of the employes at the works took part in the funeral procession, and a large crowd awaited the arrival at the Cemetery. From the home the body was taken to St. Saviour’s Church, where a short service was conducted by Canon the Hon. M. Ponsonby, who also performed the last rites at the graveside….

The coffin which was of polished elm, bore the following inscription: “Septimus Hyde. Died April 18^th, 1900: age 54 years.” A large number of wreaths and tokens of respect and sorrow were sent by his fellow employes and relatives.

Extracts from Berrow’s Worcester Journal, Saturday, April 28, 1900

Hyde, Septimus of 58 Exmouth-street New Swindon Wiltshire foreman in the Great-western-railway-carriage-works died 18 April 1900 Probate Salisbury 10 May to Frank Edmond Hyde pattern-maker Effects £945 4s 7d

All images of the Bodymakers Shop are published courtesy of P.A. Williams and Local Studies, Swindon Central Library

Angels – of the stone variety

James John Wiltshire (3)

The re-imagined story …

I still visit the cemetery angels once in a while, just to check up on them. There are a couple that are badly damaged but I still like to pay my respects. They were a great comfort to me when I used to doss in the cemetery.

My usual pitch was a bender under the bushes near the Polish doctor’s grave. Sometimes I’d go down by the hedge that backed onto Fairview but it was too close to the houses and people used to report me.

I tried getting into the little building at the top of the cemetery but it was boarded up too well. The druggies used to go round the back there, but I didn’t want to get involved with any of that shit, I had enough of my own to get on with.

I’ve met a few angels since then – of the flesh and blood variety. There was Lesley who found me a room in a hostel and Steve who got me on to a counselling programme. I can do without the booze now, well most the time I can.

I don’t know a lot about my own family. I turned out to be a big disappointment to my mum and dad. Never did the right thing, not even as a kid. I know they were ashamed of me, they told me so often enough. I was lazy, had no backbone, no morals.

These days there’s a big emphasis on mental wellbeing, but my parents were of a different generation, obviously, but you know what I mean. They’d lived through a world war, they didn’t have a lot of time for mental wellbeing or depression and anxiety.

One of the angels I like to visit is down on the lower section of the cemetery on the way to the Clifton Street gates. She’s a particular favourite of mine. I wonder why we always think of angels as female. After all, the archangels were all male, Gabriel and Michael; and Lucifer, well he had to be a male. That’s about all I can name. It’s a bit like Santa’s reindeers, after Rudolph and Donner and Blitzen, who are the others?

This little angel is tucked into a window-like space in the stonework, a young angel knelt on one knee praying, her wings following the curve of the opening. Is there such a thing as a young angel, or an old one come to that? I suppose you get cherubs, but they are usually chubby, babylike figures with short curly hair. No, this one is definitely a young angel, her little hands clasped together and her bare toes peeping out from her dress.

Well, that little angel got me thinking. The inscription on the headstone is to an old couple. James John Wiltshire who died in 1938 aged 78 and his wife Jessie Charlotte who died in 1954 aged 90 and I got to wondering who had chosen the headstone.

I even went up to the crematorium where they hold all the burial registers. Of course, I could tell they thought I was a nutter, but fair play to them they were very kind and helpful. A young woman looked up the grave details for me and what a surprise we both had.

Before the Wiltshire family bought the grave for old James and Jessie, it had been a public grave and buried beneath them were four little children. Charles and Louisa Wright, who both died as babies in 1900 and 1901 and Amy and Vera Taylor who had died in 1900 and 1906.

We looked at each other in silence.

I wonder if the Wiltshire family knew all this when they bought the plot; now that little angel makes sense to me. I like to think of her praying for the little children who never had a life, and it helps me cling on to making some value out of mine.

The facts …

James John and Jessie Charlotte Wiltshire lived at 36 St Margarets Road at the time of James’s death in 1938 and Jessie continued to live there until her death in 1954. The 1939 list, available on Ancestry, reveals that Jessie was living with Emily B. Warren, also a widow and quite possibly her sister.

The children …

Charles Tilley and Louisa Caroline H. Wright were the children of Thomas and Mary Ann Wright. Thomas worked as a Smith’s striker in the railway factory. The couple were originally from London but moved to the Swindon area in about 1890. Louisa appears on the 1901 census as a one month old infant, the youngest of eight children still living at home in Byron Street with their parents. Born in between census years little Charles doesn’t appear on official records other than the birth and death indices and the burial registers.

Amy Blanche Taylor was born on January 16, 1900 and baptised on February 11 at St Augustine’s Church. She was the daughter of George Taylor, a clerk in the Works, and his wife Blanche who lived at 67 Dean Street.

Vera Grace was born in 1904 and was also baptised at St Augustine’s. By then the family had moved to 14 Jennings Street. She died in 1906.

By 1911 the little family had prospered and were living in Goddard Avenue. The census returns for that year include not only the details of their two living children, Raymond George 10 and Gladys Elsie 4, but the two children who had died, Amy Blanche 3 months and Vera Grace 2 years. The names had been crossed through. It was enough for official purposes just to state how many children had died.

Blanche died in 1918 and was buried in plot E8376 on March 28. George outlived her by more than forty years. He died in 1959 and was buried with his wife on April 2. Their grave is on the opposite side of the cemetery from their two little daughters.

James John Wiltshire (2)

James John Wiltshire

The day Nellie Fitch came calling

Jane Tuckey — **Jane Helena Tuckey photograph courtesy of Peter Guggenheim**

The re-imagined story …

Mother went to Mrs Dicks funeral. It was a very quiet affair, she said. Not many at the church and even fewer at the graveside.

“I don’t know why she wasn’t buried at St Mary’s, along with all her family,” said mother. “There’s a long avenue of Tuckey graves in the churchyard there. Great big gravestones enclosed by iron railings. Of course, there was money in the family then.”

A familiar guilty twinge stabbed me.

I used to visit Mrs Dicks most weeks. Mother would send me round with a meat pie or a suet pudding.

“She doesn’t eat very well.”

Mrs Dicks lived opposite us in Hawkins Street. Her husband had died several years ago.

“He was a fitter in the Works. Nice man, people said, although a bit of a come down for her. Her first husband had been a wealthy farmer from Chippenham.”

Mrs Dicks’ terrace house was crammed full of great big pieces of dark furniture.

“No doubt from her father’s house in Shaw.”

Sometimes she would open the drawer in the big, old dresser and hand me a tortoiseshell casket and together we would look at her ‘treasures’ as she called them.

Then one day Nellie Fitch came with me.

I usually went to Mrs Dicks on my own but this day Nellie was sitting on our front wall.

“She can smell the pie.”

Nellie Fitch wore shoes with holes in them and her winter coat was too small for her. Nothing unusual about that. During the war most of the kids in Rodbourne wore hand me downs. But then she told me she often didn’t eat.

We didn’t have much, but I always knew I would have a cooked dinner. Nothing fancy mind, but mother was a good, plain cook and she knew how to make a little go a long way.

Nellie’s dad was away fighting the Hun, she told me.

“Nellie’s father disappeared years ago,” said mother. “And so has the layabout she thinks is her father.”

Mrs Dicks opened her front door to a small hallway, just like the one in our house and all the other houses in Hawkins Street.

She was pleased to see me, but less so to see Nellie. I don’t think it was her dirty clothes and shabby shoes that bothered Mrs Dicks. I imagine it was more the fact that now Nellie would know she accepted food from neighbours. Mrs Dicks tried to keep up appearances. She had come down in the world and keenly felt her loss of status. But to me she was just another little old lady who wore old fashioned dresses and spoke in a posh voice.

“Good morning girls. How lovely Violet. Please thank your mother,” she said as she took the warm basin into the kitchen. “Tell her I will settle up with her at the end of the week.”

She always said the same thing. No money ever changed hands, my mother wouldn’t have expected any and Mrs Dicks had none to give.

“Come into the kitchen girls. I was just making a cup of tea.”

If Nellie was hoping for a piece of cake or a biscuit she would be out of luck.

Nellie probably wondered why I spent time with the posh old lady in her dark and dreary house where there was nothing nice to eat.

I had a stammer. Other children didn’t have the patience to wait for me to finish my words and adults tended to do it for me.

“Spit it out girl, I haven’t got all day.”

But Mrs Dicks wasn’t like that. She was quiet and patient and when the words got stuck she would take over the conversation. She would tell me about the house in Shaw where she had grown up with her eight sisters and her brother. How they played in the orchard at the back of the house and on Sundays they would walk all the way to the church in Lydiard Millicent. She would bring out her photograph album and tell me about the people; whiskered old men and wasp waisted ladies.

And sometimes she would bring out the tortoiseshell box and show me the beaded bag she took to dances when she was a young woman, and the diamond tiara that became a pair of dangly earrings at the click of a pin at the back. There was an amethyst ring that had belonged to her grandmother and brooches and pins.

Please don’t bring out the tortoiseshell box today, I silently pleaded. But the atmosphere was awkward with Nellie there. We were probably the only two quiet children in Rodbourne that morning.

I watched Nellie’s eyes grow as wide as saucers as she peeped inside Mrs Dicks’ tortoiseshell box, and she looked at me and smiled. Not a big, open smile, but something sly.

I never wanted to visit Mrs Dicks after that.

“I don’t have time to go calling in on Mrs Dicks,” my mother complained when she had to deliver the meat pie.

Nellie got a new winter coat that year, and a new step father.

“They’re not married,” said my mother. “She’s never marries any of them.” And then they moved away from Rodbourne.

The facts …

Jane Helena Tuckey was born on March 15th 1848 at Langley Burrell, the fourth daughter of Robert and Ann Tuckey.

The 1841 census returns for Yatesbury record wealthy bachelor farmer Robert Tuckey living with Ann Trotman, an unmarried servant and her four year old daughter.

Perhaps Tuckey family opposition to this mismatched alliance delayed a wedding. By the time the couple did get around to walking up the aisle at St. Saviours in Bath they had two daughters and Ann was pregnant again.

But by 1851 Robert had come into his inheritance and the growing family moved into Shaw House along what is now called Old Shaw Lane in West Swindon.

In 1872, shortly after the death of her father, Jane married farmer John Clarke, thirty years her senior, and moved to nearby Kington St. Michael where John farmed 381 acres. With 20 farm and house servants on the payroll, this was a big establishment.

Then in 1882 John Clarke was found dead in one of his fields having suffered a fatal heart attack and Jane’s life was to change dramatically.

In 1884 Jane married Francis Dicks. Her second husband, seven years her junior, was a fitter employed in the GWR works. The couple with Jane’s girls moved into 37 Hawkins Street, Rodbourne where a further two children were born.

In the small terraced house Jane’s lifestyle was far removed from the comfortable childhood she had enjoyed, playing in the orchard at Shaw House.

Widowed for the second time in 1903 she survived on an income derived from taking in a lodger.

Mrs Dicks died on November 26, 1918. She was buried in plot B1494, a pauper’s grave in Radnor Street Cemetery.

Tuckey house

Shaw House, Old Shaw Lane, Swindon

What can a headstone tell you Pt 2?

There are 33,000 burials in Radnor Street Cemetery but rather fewer memorials. The spread of headstones vary in the different sections with E and D sections the most densely populated. Lower C section also has a fine display and of course dotted across the cemetery are 104 distinctive Commonwealth War Graves headstones.

When the Burial Board published a list of fees concerning interment in the new cemetery in 1881 it included the following statement:

“All inscriptions and plans of monuments, tablets, and stones, to be erected in the Cemetery or chapels to be submitted to the Board for its approval.”

The majority of the headstones in Radnor Street Cemetery are simple and stylish, but have a closer look and you will find some fascinating detail.

Victorian Swindon had strong links with Freemasonry and this headstone (see below) has examples of Freemasonry symbolism, including the Square and Compasses, which depict a builder’s square joined by a compass.

Ivy trailing across a headstone symbolises friendship and immortality.

Fruits in various varieties are symbolic of the fruit of life, while grapes and leaves represent Christ and Christian faith.

An anchor and/or chains have various meanings, apart from the obvious naval one, and include the severance of the body and soul. There is also a connection with the International Order of Odd Fellows. The Order of Odd Fellows was another popular organisation here in Swindon.

The Commonwealth War Graves headstones all carry the regimental insignia of the deceased service personnel. This is the badge of the Royal Army Medical Corps.

Flowers have various meanings for example the rose is symbolic of love and virtue. A rosebud can indicate the death of a young person. The problem is trying to identify what the variety of flower is on a weathered headstone.

The bird/dove has various meanings including that of eternal peace.

And the letters IHS seen on many headstones in the cemetery, come from the Greek spelling of Jesus and symbolise the first three letters – Iota, Eta, Sigma.

What can a headstone tell you?

Thomas-and-Susan-Hughes

What can a headstone tell you? A surprising amount actually, and that doesn’t just include the inscription.

In older churchyards you might find skulls and crossed bones and dancing skeletons on headstones but you are unlikely to come across these symbols in Radnor Street Cemetery. There are angel monuments and angels carved in relief, but most of the iconography is more subtle.

The cemetery was established in response to several urgent needs. The rapid growth of the town saw diminishing space for burials in the existing churchyards (see Proposed Cemetery for Swindon) and a large and a growing congregation of Dissenters or Non-Conformists. This accounts for the non-denominational nature of the cemetery chapel (most municipal cemeteries have an Anglican and a Dissenters’ Chapel) and why the burial ground itself is unconsecrated ground.

So, what does the inscription on Thomas and Susannah Hughes’s headstone tell us?

To the memory of the late Thomas Hughes/Died October 27^th 1905/Aged 64 years/This memorial was erected by the family friends and workmen under his supervision/a token of respect and esteem/also of his wife/Susannah Hughes/died October 29^th 1905/aged 63 years/They were (illegible) and pleasant/(illegible) their lives and death/they were not divided

The headstone is in the shape of a scroll, which itself has various interpretations. It can signify a love of learning or a religious conviction. A scroll partially unfurled can indicate a premature death, although not in this case as both Thomas and his wife Susannah were in their 60s.

Acanthus leaves are a classical symbol dating from antiquity and represent both immortality and life’s prickly path. Ivy leaves represent friendship and immortality and oak leaves hospitality and endurance. The medallion shaped flower is most probably a sunflower, representing affection and remembrance while the Easter lily signifies resurrection.

The facts …

We regret to announce the death, on October 27^th, after a very short illness, of Mr Thomas Hughes, foreman of the Erecting Shops at Swindon.

Mr Hughes was born at Smethwick, Staffordshire in 1841, and in 1855 was apprenticed to Messrs. James Watt & Co., late Boulton & Watt, Engineers, Soho Foundry, Smethwick, near Birmingham, as general engineer, machinist, turner, fitter and erector. He left Soho Foundry in 1862, after the completion of his apprenticeship, and joined the service of the London and North Western Railway at Crewe, where he stayed for only a short time, returning to Soho Foundry and eventually entering the service of the Great Western Railway Company at Swindon in 1866, as an erector. He was appointed foreman in 1876, and his position was one of the most important at Swindon, as he had full control of the erection of new engines, also of the erecting work in connection with repairs.

He was a man of marked ability in his profession, and was held in high esteem by the officials, particularly by the Chief Superintendent, who, at the opening meeting of the Junior Engineering Society on October 31^st, alluded to the said incident in the following terms: – “This Society is unfortunate in a lost which we have sustained within the past few days. I allude to the death of poor Foreman Hughes. He was a member of our Committee, and I am sure I express your views when I say he was one of your most respected members. I am proud to say that Tom Hughes was a friend of mine for a great number of years, and I can scarcely express to you the shock it gave me when I heard of his death.”

For a number of years Mr Hughes held the position of First Engineer in the Company’s Fire Brigade, and in this direction exhibited characteristic energy and interest. He was also a Member of the Council of the Mechanics’ Institution, to which he was devotedly attached. The case is a peculiarly sad one, as within a day or two of Mr Hughes’s death, his wife, who had been ailing for some time, passed away.

Great Western Railway Magazine December 1905.

Death of Mr Hughes

We regret to announce the death, which took place on Friday morning, at his residence, 8 Faringdon Street, Swindon, of Mr T. Hughes, a foreman in the GWR works. Deceased, who had only been ailing a short time, passed away somewhat suddenly. He had been a foreman in the GWR works – over the A Shop (New Work & Erectors), B Shop (Erectors), and P Shop, for 30 years, having been employed in the GWR Works 40 years. He was well known as a member of the Council of the Mechanics’ Institute, in which he took an active interest, especially in the Library and Reading Room, having been a member of the council for seven years. Deceased leaves a widow and grown up family, for whom the deepest sympathy will be felt, especially as Mrs Hughes is lying seriously ill. Mr Hughes was also a prominent member of the GWR Fire Brigade.

Death of Mrs Hughes

An extremely pathetic sequel to the death of Mr T. Hughes, a GWR foreman, which took place on Friday last, is the fact that his wife passed away yesterday morning. She had been ill for some time, and was lying prostrate when her husband died. The funeral takes place tomorrow, when the bodies of Mr & Mrs Hughes will be buried in the same grave in the Swindon cemetery.

Swindon Advertiser November, 1905

In 1871 Thomas and Susannah lived in a shared property at 24 Oxford Street. By the time of the 1881 census they had moved with their six children into one of the larger, foreman’s houses at 8 Faringdon Street where they remained for the rest of their married life.

They were buried on the same day, October 31, 1905 in plot D141. They share their grave with their eldest son Charles Thomas, who died in 1907 and their son in law, Ernest James John Tarrant, the husband of their daughter Alma Susan, who died in 1914.

Thomas-Hughes

Mr Thomas Hughes

George Augustus Crocker – with Mother’s fond love

The re-imagined story …

‘Some say it was a futile war, a pointless war, an unjustifiable war. Tell that to Kate Crocker, that’s what I say.

When the old Queen married off her children into European Royal households she did it to create one big family. Well, we all know what families are like – there are favourite children and jealous cousins and an interferring aunt and uncle – but it’s something quite different when family members fall out on the world wide stage. Some people don’t know when they’re well off.

The First World War began when Gavrilo Princip assassinated Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria, but of course there was more to it then that. The causes of that Great War were many. Tell that to Kate Crocker.

By the time Kate took possession of her son’s war medals she was alone in this world, her immediate family gone, her husband and both her children dead. Europe was a different place as well. The old Queen’s plans for her family had come to nothing. Just like Kate’s.’

The inscription on the headstone reads:

Also George Augustus

only son of G.A. & K. Crocker

Died of wounds received on Active Service

March 15th 1918 Aged 29 years

Interred in St Seves Cemetery Rouen

The facts …

George Augustus Crocker and his sister Edith were baptised together at St. Mark’s on December 3, 1888. The family home at that time was at 28 Reading Street. In 1901 the family are recorded as living at 63 Exmouth Street.

George followed his father into the Works and a job as a railway clerk in the Operating, Traffic, Coaching Depts. He began his employment as a 16 year old on an annual salary of £25 on May 16, 1904.

George Augustus Crocker enlisted in the Royal Army Medical Corps at Swindon on May 10, 1915. He later transferred to 6th Cyclists Bttn Field Ambulance. He died on March 15, 1918 from wounds received in action (Gas) in No 9 General Hospital Rouen. He was 29 years of age. He had served a total of two years and 310 days – a year and 280 days at Home and 1 year and 30 days in France. He is buried in St. Sever Cemetery extension, France. The inscription on his headstone reads – They died that we might live with Mother’s fond love.

He left effects valued at £125 to his mother. Property returned to Kate included letters, photographs and a diary.

Kate Crocker died on June 8, 1938, She is buried in plot E8506 with her daughter Edith who died in 1908 aged 21 years and her husband George Augustus senior who died in 1921. Their son George Augustus is mentioned on their memorial. Ada Emily Jane Crocker, the widow of Rowland Augustus Crocker, George Augustus senior’s brother, was buried in the same plot in 1967.

In the neighbouring grave plot E8507 lies William Crocker, George Augustus senior’s brother, his wife Martha and the aforementioned brother, Rowland Augustus Crocker.

St Sever Cemetery and St. Sever Cemetery Extension are located within a large communal cemetery situated on the eastern edge of the southern Rouen suburbs of Le Grand Quevilly and Le Petit Quevilly. – see www.cwgc.org.

Radnor Street Cemetery Chapel

For more than 15 years a small group of volunteers have been working to bring the history of the cemetery alive again and the cemetery chapel has been central to our work.

The chapel was designed in 1881 in the Gothic Revivalist style by popular local architect William Henry Read (who is buried in the cemetery). The cemetery chapel was non denominational and the burial plots in the cemetery were unconsecrated, at last the non-conformist residents of Swindon could be buried according to their own beliefs. Built to seat 100 people the chapel is austere and unfussy and painted white throughout, but this was not the original colour scheme. During repair and restoration work undertaken in 2013 we discovered that the upper walls were painted dark blue with the lower section a dark red, another fascinating aspect of the history of the building.

The cemetery chapel is central to the activities we hold, especially the Service of Remembrance. However, in recent years the numbers who attend this service have increased to such an extent that we are no longer able to meet in the chapel. Instead we gather round the Cross of Sacrifice, the Commonwealth War Graves memorial. At the end of the service the scouts place a cross on each of the 104 Commonwealth War Graves.

In 2014 we hosted the launch of Swindon in the Great War, a four year project to commemorate the events of the First World War. An exhibition of First World War artefacts and photographs at the end of the commemoration period was a great success.

And in 2015 the Duke of Gloucester was guest of honour at a Battle of Britain 75th anniversary commemorative event held at the cemetery. The Battle of Britain Memorial Flight flew over Radnor Street Cemetery and the grave of Squadron Leader Harold Morley Starr, a Swindon born pilot who was shot down by enemy aircraft above Kent on August 31, 1940.

Our cemetery activities have been on hold during the Covid crisis, but we are looking forward to resuming our guided walks. The first one takes place on April 24. 2022. Meet at the chapel for 2 pm.