The train gods were against me the whole way there, and I should have listened to them, for all was not as it seemed once I walked through the cemetery gates. Thankfully, I had my trusty camera with me, so I could record the story as it unfolded.
Obviously I made it out alive, and not even slightly possessed. I might take a vial of holy water next time I go grave-watching, though.
[On a more serious note, I highly recommend all the Magnificent Seven cemeteries (or rather, the five I've been to) for quiet walks and impressive sepulchres. Most of them are free, they're not haunted in the slightest, and there's generally a famous person or two to hunt for. I found Henry Tate (art and sugar) and Gideon Mantel (a famous palaeontologist). Or you can sit and keep an eye out for exciting fauna that you don't tend to see elsewhere in the city. Just be advised - they are still working cemeteries, so watch out for funerals, and be respectful.]
