Behind Greyfriars, and across the street, is one of London's lovely pocket parks. This one is Postmen's Park. It is pretty and perfect and I wandered in to sit.

I could see there were plaques on a wall of one of the buildings, with a roof to protect them.

I warned you that London can break your heart.

Each ceramic plaque honors someone who gave their life trying to save someone else. Many of them are children. Some of them are factory accidents, as England was deep in the Industrial Revolution. Each Edwardian memorial makes your throat grow just a bit tighter. I wandered on.

In the corner of the park, you face a door that is the "back door" to a church. A plaque there tells you that a church has stood here for 1,ooo years, and whatever has brought you to this door, you are welcome inside.

I was reminded of what can happen in 1,000 years. I felt a little better. And a little worse.

Wandering on north, I came to St. Bartholomew-the-Great. Another church that was built in the 1100's. One of the few, mostly-Norman, churches left in London. I wandered back into the garden and wondered what the massive trees remembered and if the roses laughed in the moonlight.