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Here is one more picture I found from Highgate Cemetery. It is the family grave of the Rossetti’s, and we were taken there because someone wanted to see the grave of “the lady with the hair”.  Apparently, as legend has it, Lizzie Siddal’s hair continued to grow after her death and when Rossetti went to dig up his poems, her coffin was full of long, golden red hair. PR-trick?

Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Buried all of his libretti,
Thought the matter over – then
Went and dug them up again.

-Dorothy Parker

Christina is buried in the same plot and the title of the post is from her poem “A Portrait”.  And the title of the last post is taken from a Swinburne poem whom, incidentally, Rossetti was out dining with at the time when Lizzie fatally overdosed on laudanum. They life they led…

At this time of the year (the last bank holiday in August) I am reminded of just how bloody long I have been in this city. Which makes me freak out a bit (oh my god! six years! why am I still here? what am I doing with my life? and so on). I then start to plot an escape plan (I must go to Tibet and save the Panchen Lama! or set up a free-spirited art commune in München! or better still; move to Newfoundland and become one with nature and write epic poetry about barren landscapes and solemn shores! that sort of thing). But whad’ya know; I’m too tired and hung over to dwell any further on this today. I’m just listening to the Archers and sorting out my pictures and waiting for the day to pass. And posting some photos from a visit to Highgate cemetery earlier this summer.

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mimi harcourt