As Twitter followers will know, I spent much of today in a graveyard. I was not there for anything to do with zombies or vampires (though the place in question is apparently home to several species of bat), but rather to support a couple of friends of mine who have just put together a new guide book for the place.

Up until the 19th Century most Britons were buried in their local churchyard, but with the rise of cities suburban cemeteries became a necessity. Highgate is perhaps the most famous early example, but Arnos Vale in Bristol dates back to 1839, when Bristol was one of the most important cities in the country because of its port (and, it should be said, because on money made in the slave trade).

Almost everyone important who dies in England ends up buried in London somewhere, but Arnos Vale contains a fair few famous local dignitaries. My pal Eugene Byrne has done a fine job of researching them and putting together a guidebook, not to mention an explanation of Victorian tomb symbolism. Eugene’s regular collaborator, artist Simon Gurr, has provided sketches and maps.

But why a guide book, you ask? Well, over the years the cemetery has fallen into disrepair. There were even suggestions that the land be sold off to property developers. Fortunately a group of local people banded together to help save the place. They were aided by the presence of the graveyard’s most famous resident, Raja Rammohun Roy. Samit Basu tells me (via Facebook) that he wasn’t actually a Raja — it was more of a courtesy title — but he is an extremely important figure in Indian history and, as I understand it, the Indian government made it known, by means of an impressively large check, that they didn’t want his tomb built upon.

So the graveyard is now busily being restored, as a working cemetery, as a tourist attraction, and as a nature reserve (bats, remember, also slow worms, badgers, loads of birds and insects). And the guidebook is another means of raising funds for the restoration project.

I tweeted a bunch of pictures during the day. Here are some of the better ones:

• Stone angel
• the Raja’s tomb
• Thomas Gadd Matthews (got rich on importing dyes, especially indigo, which I guess means jeans)
• broken column (a common symbol for a man who died young)
• Celtic cross (preferred by Victorians to avid seeming Popish)

By the way, Eugene tells me that one of the things the project brought home to him was the vast disparity in wealth between rich and poor in Victorian England. The cemetery contains some “guinea graves” where the poor could get a decent burial for just over a pound, though many could not afford even that and were dumped in unmarked mass graves. Thomas Gadd Matthews’ family spent £1,500 (in 1860 money) on the memorial alone.

Update: Apparently I got one too many zeroes in the cost of that tomb. Sorry Eugene. Still a big differential though.