Foods of the Baltic: Kvass/Gira, Pelmeni, Cepelinai (Zeppelin), Pelēkie zirņi ar speķi (Grey Peas with Speck), and Beaver Stew

A quick compendium of notable foods consumed on a brief working trip to Lithuania and Latvia. Alright, let’s be practical, chances are that the 5 people who still read this blog will probably never ever go to Lithuania or Latvia but yet I will say – IF YOU EVER DO, then these following foods are very much recommended.


Fermented Black Ryebread Cocktail


Gira/Kvass from Forto Dvaras (Kaunas Old Town, Lithuania)


Gira/Kvass from Zalias Ratas (Kaunas, Lithuania)

You may be wondering why would you drink this fermented non-alcoholic drink when you could drink a fermented alcoholic drink (BEER?) but the simple answer is that: it is super delicious. Like liquid bread candy. Like summery caramel raisin juice. As strangely and inexplicably addictive as Club Mate.

I had become really excited to try the Kvass after watching Life of Boris aka KVASSMAN demonstrate how to make it and all I can say is that… its indeed probably the best drink you can get in Lithuania and Latvia.

In the case of Latvia, if you are travelling in Riga… IT IS EVEN WORTH GOING TO RIGA AIRPORT 2 HOURS EARLY TO LEISURELY DRINK MORE KVASS AT THE LIDO. (There are Lidos all over Riga but having reached the airport means you can actually sit back in the Lido (the “Wetherspoons” of Latvia) and relax with your Kvass.


Tiny Slavic Ravioli


XL Pelmeni in the morning

“What food is still available at this hour?” I asked a waitress at 11pm in Riga. She said, “well at this house there is only the McDonalds, Kebabs, or…. Pelmeni?” – with the Pelmeni being the only true ‘local’ option. So at almost midnight in Riga, I found myself at XL PELMENI, a curious buffet style fast food dumpling house with tacky plastic cave wall features, easy wipe-clean tables bolted to the floor, and an interesting mix of clientele. From families with young children, to young men wolfing down huge mountains of cheese dumplings, middle aged couples eating dumplings along with a bottle of wine, and old men nursing their beers alone in the corner with a tiny dill covered salad. Its young staff loitered around bored and uneasy, wearing generic hats and aprons.


I was very confused as nothing was in English, but it appears that you simply pick up a series of tiny bowls on plastic trays and fill up your bowls with what looks like tiny white geometric tchotchkes, filled with rather delicious mystery meats (there were labels, but I couldn’t read them).


The Pelmeni is basically a very tiny ravoli made with a thin skin of white unleavened dough, very similar to the wonton or jiaozi or gyoza or mandu or pierogi or varenyky depending on where you’re from. Garnish with white creamy substance (sour cream? kefir? yoghurt? mayonez??? help what is going on?) and let the dill rain from heaven. Unfortunately I did not take a picture of the pelmeni but you can see some of them in the top of this menu… that’s what it looks like inside the pot!


Lithuanian Potato Meat Blimp Sailing straight into your Mouth


Named after the zeppelin airships, this is actually nothing like its floating namesake, and more like a dense bullet of pure plastinated potato. Sometimes served with a side of magic fat gravy. They mash the potato, then boil it into this ultra dense format with a thick layer of potato covering a delicious meat filling.

On a side note, in some strange ways it is reminiscent of the format of the traditional Hokchew (Foochow Chinese) ball if you replaced fish and flour with POTATO.


If they give you an option to have a half portion, restrain yourself and order the half portion because they are basically SOLID POTATO BLIMPS and the average human adult can only realstically consume one of these zeppelins at a time. (For your reference a “debbieportion” is actually 1/2 OF AVERAGE LITHUANIAN ZEPPELIN)


Most Latvian Food according to random young Latvian boy at Lido

“What is your most Latvian food???” I asked the young server at the Lido.
He pointed to a mountain of peas. “Peas are very Latvian.”
So here is an unfeasibly huge plate of Grey Peas that I ate at a Lido in Riga Old Town.


They’re not very grey actually.

BONUS: “Food from the Nobleman’s Table”


Menu at Zalias Ratas (Kaunas, Lithuania)

Often in the menus you will see the mention of “food from the peasant’s table” vs “food from the nobleman’s table”
All the potato-based foods I have listed above are typically classed as ‘peasant food’, although today there’s hardly any real distinction between the two. For the most part, eating out (and eating well) in Lithuania seems exceedingly affordable.


Menu at Restaurant Lokys (Vilnius, Lithuania)


In Vilnius, I decided to go to one of these “Nobleman’s Restaurant” to try Beaver Stew. Apparently beaver was historically quite commonly eaten by noblemen who went hunting; more than a hundred thousand beavers live in the Lithuanian forest and Lithuania and Latvia are probably the two countries in the world with the biggest numbers of Eurasian Beavers. (FYI: Beavers are actually completely vegetarian and their big teeth are only used to eat twigs and bark)


Lokys means “bear” so there are huge wooden bears everywhere in Restaurant Lokys. In case one cannot travel all the way to Lithuania to eat Lithuanian Beaver Stew but still wishes to cook a Beaver (assuming one has already caught a beaver???) here is a recipe for Beaver that I found in the Kaunas Town Hall:


Gero apetito / Labu apetīti!

A Visit to Geola: General Optics Laboratory – Pulsed Laser Holography


When I was in Canberra as artist-in-residence with the Australian War Memorial I managed to see some really amazing holograms (with many thanks to the Australian War Memorial for arranging this and National Gallery of Australia for allowing me to see their collections!). Thus I began hatching a crazy plan to make some holograms, which led me to travel to Vilnius to visit Geola (“General Optics Laboratory”), a company which has been producing analogue holography as well as developing a really interesting technique of digital holography using pulsed lasers. Geola’s pioneering holography techniques had also been mentioned by a number of Australian fine art holographers such as Paula Dawson.

(It is always worth noting that for a moment in time, the hologram had really seemed poised to be the successor to the photograph, with many fine art holography programmes developed in universities around the world including in Australia and UK between the 1970s and 1990s – even the RCA used to have a holography department)

Untitled Untitled Untitled
Margaret Benyon’s Totem (1979)
National Gallery of Australia – Accession No: NGA 2009.46
Materials & Technique: photographs, reflection hologram, ink, gouache, feather on paper
Dimensions: printed image 25.4 h x 20.3 w cm / Produced in Australia
Notice how the hologram actually remains a secret if the work is not lit or viewed from the right direction.

Hologram made by Andrea Wise to test conservation techniques for holographic plates
Canberra, April 2017
I think what interested me most was how Geola had interpreted the method of digital holography into holopixels. One of the senior conservators at the National Gallery of Australia, Andrea Wise (who also had a passion for understanding how holography worked), told me of a useful way of thinking about holograms: if you break a corner off a hologram, that corner itself will already contain the data of the entire image. The concept of the holopixel then makes this fragment-whole relationship evidently clear: each holopixel is a separate element but each of the holopixels contains ALL of the image data at the same time – they are optical elements that when properly illuminated and viewed from different angles, will be perceived as a specific colour dot. When we view all the colour dots as a whole, it becomes interpreted by the eye and brain as an image that changes when viewed from different angles. (Viewing it with two eyes completes the illusion of our perception of the image as a three-dimensional scene).

Although the underlying physics is well-known and widely understood by scientists and students of science alike, the hologram somehow remains largely misunderstood by the average layman. Since the hologram exists as a physical photographic plate, it is sometimes confused as an extension of photography, although a hologram is not at all like a photograph because a photograph is an image but the hologram is a lens. Furthermore, today the word “hologram” is very loosely used to describe so many optical illusions (eg: pepper’s ghost, rear projection, volumetric projection, lenticular prints, virtual reality) to the point that most people may may not know what a hologram really is. When I tried to talk about my plans for the project to other friends, quite often a friend might say “Oh! Holograms! I’ve seen/made some before!” only for us to discover later on that what they thought was a hologram was not actually a hologram…

Even American electrical engineering professor Emmeth Leith, the co-inventor of three-dimensional holography, described his holograms as a “grin without a cheshire cat”. Over the years, three-dimensionality and then imagery was successively compromised, largely leaving only movement and colour behind. Technical limitations in holographic image production as well as certain cultural and commercial conditions have led to the overall flattening of the holographic image on both physical and symbolic level, resulting in total collapse of the holographic image to the image plane – to the point that today we mainly see the hologram in flattened embossed forms, in small particles…

Google Image Search: “Holographic”
As hologram retailers struggled to build a consumer market they began aligning themselves with science museums and technology centres to try to capture national audiences on a mass consumption level. Ultimately this distanced the hologram further and further away from being a medium for narrative. Despite having a premature demise in a commercial sense, the hologram still entered cultural consciousness as a medium designed for future mass consumption, in its general disappearance from the public eye it transformed into a staple of science fiction films and the imagination. But it is not just in people’s imagination that the hologram has been changing. Holographic techniques have also been continuously developing! You might be surprised to know that today you can produce holograms from moving images, and that they can be in full colour today!


On an unexpectedly normal and ordinary street on the other side of the world, sits the rather nondescript office of the lab called Geola.


It used to be that analogue holography had to be on in labs which were completely free of vibrations – so the labs would involve huge concrete tables and had to be far away from civilisation and all the vibrations from cars and noises. But Geola has devised a pulsed laser system which has no such vibration problems! (Cars are running on the roads outside! You can walk in the room with the printer inside it!)


This was a room that had to be seen in person.


Despite its similarity to a photo plate, a hologram is nothing at all like a photo, and there’s also no way for me to adequately represent it in photo alone.



This is the printer. The holopixels in this digital holograph are recorded onto photosensitive media using two pulsed laser beams – one is spatially modulated by using LCD display and focused into a 1.6mm x 1.6mm square acts as the object beam, another laser beam acts as the reference beam. The modulation is done such that the object beam at the point of interference with the reference beam contains the same information that would have come to this point from a real object (except that here we might be using film footage or 3D rendered scenes as the source). The reference beam interferes with the modulated object beam, recording the hologram of the image on the photosensitive media.


After exposure the holographic photoplate is processed using a conventional photographic process.


After chemical processing the photoplate is dried and then the holographic photoemulsion is protected by lamination of black self-adhesive film and acrylic sheet using a standard cold lamination machine.


Real 3D Scene shot from a drone


Virtual 3D Scene (as evidenced by designer who forgot to connect trees to ground)

See the video documentation here:

Thank you to Ramunas for showing me around Geola!

Kaunas: Ninth Fort Museum


Due to the recent closure of Vilnius Airport for the reconstruction of its runway, I was forced to travel to Vilnius via Kaunas, and I also decided to make it a little more interesting by returning to London via Riga. And since I was already going to travel so far, I decided to make a plan to see the museums in each place.

Kaunas: Ninth Fort Museum
Vilnius: A Visit to Geola
Vilnius: Museum of Genocide Victims in former KGB Building
Riga: Museum of the Occupation of Latvia
& an obligatory food tour of the Baltics!

So how does one get to the Ninth Fort? From Kaunas Old Town, you can take bus 23, which runs along “K. Donelaičio g.” which is one of the major streets in the old town. A single ride on the bus costs 80 euro cents which you pay to the driver directly, and it takes around 20 minutes to get to the stop “9-ojo forto muziejus“. (Bus 23 also takes you back to Kaunas Old Town – just make sure that you’re on the 23 bound for “Domeikava” when going to the Ninth Fort and the 23 bound for “Rokai” when you’re returning to “Kaunas centras“).

A small note on how to read road names in Lithuania: A lot of the roads are named after historically prominent Lithuanians – cultural luminaries, poets, writers, pioneers of industry, revolutionary thinkers, etc. However they all have very long names, so they shorten the first name to just the initial (very wisely, for brevity’s sake). For example, Kristijonas Donelaitis lends his name to K. Donelaičio g. – and the g stands for gatvė (street).


From the bus stop you walk through the suburban neighbourhood and take a small dirt path that leads to an underpass that brings you to the front doors of the museum.


For 3 euros (adult) or 1.50 euros (student) you get a ticket to see all of the Ninth Fort museum and also walk into the fort itself. The building of the museum is also a monument, with stained glass memorials and sculptures built into the building.






The museum does not shy away from showing very graphic images of death. I was not sure if I should reproduce this images here on my own blog here, but I think that we can’t afford to shy away from the truth of the brutality that was senselessly inflicted by humans upon other humans – the images of Soviet atrocities and the Nazi genocide are in this exposition to remind us of why we cannot tolerate racism or fascism within society – we must not forget that it has been used to justify such horrific crimes against humanity.


I noticed a word that was frequently used in the exhibition text – “exposed”.


Another example here – “exposured”.

It initially seemed an unusual choice of word. I know it must be because an exhibition is so commonly translated to “exposition” in Lithuania, but when I’m looking at the photos, I think about the exposure as it relates to photography and the exposed photo plate that captures the image, allowing it to be preserved and reproduced; I also think of the action of “exposing” a utterly hideous crime against humanity that the Nazis tried to cover up in this very site.



On the other end of the museum, there’s a section telling the story of Romas Kalanta, a high school student who publicly committed suicide by setting himself on fire in protest of the Soviet regime in Lithuania (in 1972), triggering the largest post-war riots in the 1970s and becoming a symbol of Lithuanian anti-russification resistance.


He left a note which said “Dėl mano mirties kaltinkite tik santvarką” (Blame only the regime for my death).


Remains of Romas Kalanta’s clothes from the self-immolation site



When you get to the end of the exposition, the eagle-eyed staff will come over and open the door for you. “PLEASE TO CONTINUE TO FORT!” said the lady and I was abruptly turfed out of the building and into the open grass (and funny enough, I heard her noisily locking the door behind me).


In the distance, the massive monument stands next to the fort itself.



Erected in 1984, the monument is 105 feet (32 m) high. The mass burial place of the victims of the massacres carried out in the fort is a grass field, marked by a simple yet frankly worded memorial written in several languages. It reads, “This is the place where Nazis and their assistants killed more than 30,000 Jews from Lithuania and other European countries

The memorial was erected in memory of victims of Nazi massacres. From 1941 until 1944 more than 50,000 people of different nations (amongst them more than 30,000 Jewish poles, lithuanians, and germans), inhabitants of Kaunas, prisoners of the Kaunas Ghetto and 20,000 other Lithuanian people and foreigners were killed at this spot. The Nazis also tried to evade responsibility by covering up the true number of murders by forcing Jewish prisoners (imprisoned at the Ninth Fort) to excavate and burn the corpses. This unreal 32-metre tall memorial was designed by sculptor A. Ambraziunas and constructed in 1984 over the mass burial site.


A short distance away there are many different memorial plaques arranged around the monument.






I walked down a slope into the beautiful grassy hill that gently covered the Ninth Fort.



Funny enough, there were these lookout bunkers embedded into the landscape – so strikingly similar to the image I was working on at the moment for my holograms.





This is what it looks like from the inside of the bunker.



The next building in the fort has an unimaginably gruesome history. Not only had the Nazi killed so many Jews and Soviet Prisoners-of-war, they also cruelly imprisoned some of the Jews here and forced them to excavate the bodies from the mass murders and then burn the corpses in order to cover up the extent of Nazi war crimes (the Nazis having already come to the conclusion at some point that they would lose the war and would be asked to take responsibility for all the murders). Those who refused were killed.


On 25 December 1943, a number of prisoners escaped from the fort and the escapees were forced to go into hiding for years in extreme conditions until after the war ended – before they could finally manage to testify to the war crimes tribunal to expose the Nazi’s cover-up operation.










There’s part of a room on Chiune “Sempo” Sugihara, a Japanese diplomat who was at the time of the outbreak of war (in 1940) the Vice Consul for the Japanese Empire in Lithuania. Immediately after the outbreak of war several thousand Jewish refugees came to the Japanese Consulate to ask for a Japanese visa that would allow them to obtain Japanese transit visas. He sent a cable to his superiors to ask if he could do so, and although he was specifically ordered not to do so, he wrote them anyway, and singlehandedly saved 5500+ Jewish refugees from German-occupied Western Poland and Soviet-occupied Eastern Poland as well as many residents of Lithuania by issuing them visas so they could escape the Nazis by obtaining a Japanese visa. As this was a time before computers, as the consul he had to HANDWRITE every single visa!


The threat to the Jewish refugees became so urgent that he apparently wrote nothing but visas for over 20 hours a day – and it got to the point that he even went to the station and simply threw the blank visa papers into the windows of leaving trains at Kaunas Train Station – so they could escape as soon as possible with the needed papers (even then, some did not manage to leave in time and were captured and killed by the Nazis).





A pile of eye glasses and a pile of emptied cartridges is all that remains.


Here is the word “exposed” again.



How surreal that such a beautiful landscape completely conceals within itself such a traumatic history; the only visible sign left being the huge man-made concrete sculpture that erupts from the earth.

20 Fenchurch’s Sky Garden: International Airport meets Garden City

Welcome to Gate 20: Fenchurch Airport…?
Last week I finally visited the Sky Garden on Fenchurch Street, popularly known as the Walkie Talkie, also famous for being That Building Which Fried Eggs on Telly and Melted a Jaguar. (Commenting on the accidental “death ray” produced by the building, the architect of the Walkie Talkie Rafael Viñoly admitted, “We made a lot of mistakes with this building”…)



Towering over the conservation area with its obscene light-concentrating bulge of mirror and glass is the skyscraper known as 20 Fenchurch. One of the conditions allowing the building’s erection in this highly vaunted area was that the building would also contain a rooftop park that would be accessible to the public.

Although it is a so-called “public garden”, the space has remained highly controlled by the developers. It might be public in the sense that everyone is free to come up and enjoy the sky garden, but first you’ll have to know how to navigate to this website to book your ticket. Next, there are hourly slots you can book, but these are often hard to come by and basically have to be booked way in advance – a few days in advance or in reality a few weeks in advance.

In fact, the main reason why I had not gone to the sky garden earlier was that I never was able to find an amenable slot in the past…




What’s curious is that this “public” garden is really still run as if it were a “private” garden or secret club. If you go to the Sky Garden’s free booking website, it welcomes you to “London’s Highest Public Garden” in its header, followed almost immediately by a description of the sky garden as one of “London’s most exclusive social spaces“. Erm…

The result of this booking system is that confused punters who didn’t realise you have to pre-book online are usually turned away at the door, and the queues at the doors downstairs also tend to accumulate as groups of people turn up too early or too late for their bookings. Apparently that if it gets too crowded upstairs they could round up visitors and ask them to leave after their hour has passed – although that did not happen whilst we were there. In any case the rooftop is extremely spacious and apparently has a capacity for 200 roaming visitors (ie: people just coming for the view and not visiting any of the dining establishments).

They keep a tight rein on the number of people allowed to go up at any one time, so it remains relatively spacious and never overcrowded; which I must admit was quite unusual. The mood upstairs on the sky garden remained relaxed and calm, and it was not chaotic, screamy, and unbearably overpacked as many other ‘sky gardens’ I’ve been to this year (ie: Singapore’s MBS Skypark, Melbourne’s Skydeck 88).

But this comes at the expense of the ease of access. There’s something to be said for that element of unplanned chaos that brings a space to life, an organic sense of community life which has been carefully removed from the Sky Garden. Security guards stood in a line, watching silently to make sure no one threw stuff from the balcony. Cleaners stood at attention, meticulously sweeping up any visible rubbish, leaving every surface spotlessly clean. This was not a place you could visit spontaneously or on the whim of a moment. We had the luxury of having booked several weeks in advance and also the luxury of being available to go at a weird time slot of 1.30pm on a weekday – which might not be possible for everyone, and many other time slots simply seemed impossible to book because of the limited slots available.

When you place your booking, they’ll also want your name – it is written that you’ll need to bring some ID, although they don’t seem to check IDs at the door, and you’ll be run through an airport scanner for safety reasons. After your tickets have been checked and your bags have been scanned, its no wonder that since it opened in 2015, many (unfavourable) comparisons have been made to it being more like an airport terminal and less like a public garden or park.


However, just as how generic Canary Wharf-like places in London have always reminded me of Singapore, the Sky Garden also feels uncannily familiar. Like much of the central part of Singapore, Sky Garden’s aesthetic lies somewhere between “International Airport” and “Garden City”.


Its that uncanny feeling of “homeliness” that comes with suddenly recognising a generic EXPEDIT Ikea shelf whilst visiting another person’s home in another country.


To their credit, it appears that since 2015 they’ve clearly worked on the garden, with the tall sprinklers strategically delivering misty jets of hydration on a lush hill of tropical foliage. But its still just a mere vertical garden, an afterthought to hard steel and glass.

As for the comestibles available at the summit: I’m actually glad to say they’ve exercised some restraint in their pricing at the cafe and bar; a cookie is about 2 quid, a slice of cake is about 5 quid, and a pint of Heineken goes for a reasonable price of 5.50. As city prices go, I’ve probably had more expensive, so the one small comfort is that it is not an excessive price-gouge. (Either that or you could say London has now rendered me mad in thinking 5.50 is a good price for a pint in the City..)



The Impossiblity of grave-hunting in Abney Park Cemetery


Recently I attempted to go headstone hunting or grave hunting in Abney Park Cemetery after noticing there were many requests for people to find the grave sites – from descendants who no longer lived in the UK. There were so many plaintive requests for photos of lost memorials. I wondered why no one had helped these people with their requests for photos, and I thought I’d try to do this over the weekend, for just an hour or two. You know, just head on to Abney one afternoon and FIND ALL THE GRAVES. Fulfill a photo request. Or two. Or three…. Or a hundred and eighty five?


At first when I scrolled down the list I thought it would be a piece of cake to help search for the graves. There didn’t seem so many when you’re just speed scrolling through the names. But when I tried to copy out the data, I realised there were actually a whopping total of 185 requests. This was more than I had expected in terms of a number. 185 individuals had clicked on this site wanting to find a specific grave for a specific person in this cemetery. And these were just the people who knew where the memorials were located in the cemetery. I mean, from a brief glance, I had thought there were just a few dozen requests online, but not 185 requests. Perhaps I was out of my depth trying to attempt to fulfill all 185 requests. It sounded like a tall order to photograph, let alone locate 185 graves in an afternoon. But every name was a person, and how could I miss a single name on the list?

As I copied out the names, I began to develop the illusion that this was not a world so far away. I knew the area and the roads of Stoke Newington like the back of my hand, I had already read a lot about the local history, I could imagine the roads and places and houses and the work and lives that went on inside them; certain surnames resurfaced many times like Wood, Woods, Watts, Loomes, Levesque,… as I copied the names out I began to imagine I could understand how this cemetery worked, but that was definitely just some weird kind of survivorship bias


For some reason I erroneously had the number “40,000” in my head – I thought there were 40,000 people buried in Abney Park’s 12.53 hectares (31.0 acres). I realise now that I thought this because I must have seen this signboard stating that there were 40,000 headstones still remaining. But the real number of burials in Abney Park is actually well over 200,000 at this point! I was surprised by this density. For my own reference I went to google the size of one of Singapore’s oldest cemeteries, Bukit Brown, which occupies about 85 hectares (211 acres) and is said to house “over 100,000 graves”. The British Isle Genealogy website keeps an online index of the 194,815 burials that took place in Abney Park from 1840 to 1978. 185 out of the 194,815 graves tabulated in 1978 in a time before I was even born – that makes a mere 0.09496188691 % of the graves there at Abney. Alas, ’twere nothing but an illusion of understanding the sheer volume of graves at Abney….


After tediously copying out and cross referencing the lost graves and memorials onto a section map I made my way down to Abney. By the way, if anyone wants a copy of my list, here is the google doc: Abney Park Cemetery Photo Requests



I was instantly overwhelmed and completely thwarted by thick overgrowth. It was not even possible to go beyond the second or third row of graves in a section unless I wanted to step on countless gravestones which had fallen over. Now I always knew it was thick in there, but until you attempt to match a name to a grave in a specific section, you may not fully appreciate how many graves there are!


There were Commonwealth war graves at this cemetery – instantly recognisable from afar – now that I’ve visited many Commonwealth war memorials…




Because the war graves were standardised through the war graves commission, I always knew what I was looking at when I saw a war grave.


But graves come in all shapes…


in all formats…


in all sizes….


Some are very wordy…


Some get straight to the point…


Many are standing (or falling over) in all sorts of different angles…

I have a newfound respect for gravehunting as it is extremely difficult. In fact, I think it is entirely impossible. George also said I shouldn’t just go around the cemetery “randomly” shrieking out names as I was looking for them.




“Could Henry Vale be in there?”


“Or is Henry Vale in there?”


“Ada Wincup? Is that your headstone?”


“Mary Wood? Is your stone somewhere in there?”

When people post a request for a photo of a grave, it is probably because:

– the grave stone no longer exists
– the grave stone cannot be found within the cemetery due to overgrowth
– the grave stone is broken or in pieces (sad but common sight)
– the text on the grave stone was too worn to read
– the location provided was wrong
– the surname provided was wrong because the female had her surname changed from her maiden name to married name
– the person requesting for the photo was simply hoping for a complete miracle

Alas I cannot work miracles, and I have much respect for the countless findagrave contributors and your tireless searching for lost memorials! I could not even find a single headstone out of my list of 185! AH! I HAVE FAILED!!! But at least I tried…

And speaking of the impossibility of finding graves in Abney, its worth noting that Abney Park Cemetery is no longer a ‘working’ cemetery accepting new burials, so you can’t find a grave plot there anymore even if you were wanting to have yourself buried there. In case you were wondering what is the cost of being buried at one of London’s ‘finest’ such as Highgate Cemetery, it was mentioned in a Guardian article that the cost of being buried at Highgate is currently £18,325. £16,475 for the plot and £1,850 for digging. So… yep, unless you are rolling in the money, it would truly be pretty impossible to find your grave here…