I had never been to St. julians in Bardington. It was a red sandstone parish church with what appeared to be a tower which may have dated from Norman times. I entered the church and was immediately struck by the light streaming through the stained glass windows on all sides. Beside the nave there was a set of black railings with gold fluting. Behind which a large marble tomb stood in it’s own chapel. A freshly picked rose, it’s red in sharp contrast to the white stone, was placed on the finely carved chest. A piece of paper rested on the stone. Intrigued, I passed through the bars to get a closer look. I picked up the paper and read the words finely written in black. There was no clue who had left the words so carefully laid out.

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