A chance encounter

One of the occasional pleasures in wandering through a cemetery is bumping into names you know unexpectedly.

I've always been interested in S R Crockett, who was the author of many books about life and manners in Galloway.   He is often - but not necessarily fairly - described as a "kailyard author."    I've given a couple of papers about him to Societies over the years.    

He died in Avignon having gone there for his health!   There was a delay in getting his body back to Galloway - occasioned by the minor matter of the First World War.   But I have visited where he lies in the kirkyard of Balmaghie.   Robert Louis Stevenson penned verses entitled "To S R Crockett"

Blows the wind to-day, and the sun and the rain are flying,
Blows the wind on the moors to-day and now,
Where about the graves of the martyrs the whaups are crying,
My heart remembers how!

Today, in Peebles churchyard, I found Samuel Rutherford Crockett's wife's resting place.