A Fox, a Cemetery, and an Afternoon in London

There are some places you visit, and there are some places you seem to enter.

Highgate Cemetery in London felt like the latter.

I went alone, without much of a plan other than wanting to wander. And wander I did. For hours.

I read the names carved into the stones, stopped to look at monuments and architecture, took far too many photographs, and followed paths simply because they looked interesting. There was something wonderful about not needing to be anywhere else.

It was an incredibly hot afternoon in August, I battled through crowded, and cancelled trains and then hiked a hill in the sun to reach the cemetery. The moment I set foot in the Western side it was cool and peaceful and I felt like I had been transported back in time.

I have always loved old cemeteries, but Highgate felt different. There is something about the architecture that makes it feel almost like a forgotten city within the city. Overgrown paths, elaborate monuments, weathered stone, ironwork, carved details...

As you pass through the gates of Egyptian avenue the architecture rises above you and you feeling like you are crossing into a liminal space, where the veil between the realms is thin and you could very well run into a soul resting in the cemetary.

As you emerge from the avenue you reach the Circle of Lebanon which is a remarkable circle of vaults and St. Saint Michael's church rising behind them.

I found myself stopping constantly.

Sometimes to photograph something.

Sometimes to read a name or the haunting words from grieving families, or the sometimes cheeky or quirky inscriptions left by more playful residents.

Sometimes simply because I liked the way something looked.

There was no real itinerary, and that was probably my favourite part.

I could spend ten minutes looking at one monument or wander down a path just to see where it went. I loved the feeling of having nowhere I needed to be.

And then there was the fox.

I noticed it almost casually at first and I was thrilled, we don't have foxes where I live.

Then, somehow, it kept appearing.

I would wander somewhere else and there it would be again.

Another path. Another section of the cemetery. Another glimpse of this little friendly spirit.

Eventually it began to feel as though I had a little companion following me around.

Of course, it was almost certainly just a fox going about its own business. But there was something about the timing of it that felt special. When you're wandering alone somewhere like Highgate, your imagination has a little more room to play.

And I liked the idea that I wasn't entirely alone.

At one point I also met three men who were searching for George Michael's grave.

It was such a funny, ordinary little moment in the middle of this extraordinary place.

They had made a special trip to pay their respects to the musician but could not find his resting place. I helped them find it and we took a quiet moment to reflect. It was such a special and unexpected moment of connection in the almost empty cemetary.

I loved that, too.

Because underneath all the history and architecture and famous names, it was still just a place where people wandered around looking for things and remembering.

People remembering people.

People being curious.

People taking photographs.

People getting a little lost.

And me, wandering around by myself, reading stones and following paths.

There was something very peaceful about it.

I think what stayed with me most was the feeling of place.

Highgate didn't feel like somewhere I was simply visiting. It felt layered. The architecture, the trees, the weathered stones, the people buried there, the people visiting them, the wildlife moving through it all — everything seemed to belong to the same story.

I could have stayed for hours longer.

Actually, I think I did stay for hours longer.

There are places I photograph because they're beautiful, and places I photograph because I want to remember how they made me feel.

Highgate was definitely the second kind.

I left with photographs of monuments and pathways and tiny architectural details, but I also left with the memory of wandering alone through an old London cemetery with a fox appearing every now and then as if to make sure I hadn't gone completely off on my own.

Maybe that is why certain places stay with us.

Not because we saw everything.

But because, for a few hours, we slowed down enough to really notice where we were.

And Highgate is a place I know I'll remember. To wander through the cemetery with me you can view my TikTok here.