Get your headstone, 2 for a dozen

One of the odd things about my delightful afternoon in Bridgnorth was the market. It's got it's hoity-toity olives-rolled-on-the-thighs-of-organic-peasants aspect, but it's a brilliant generalist market - tomatoes to mop heads.

And grave stones.

You did read that right. On a household good stall, there was a range of headstones with examples of engraving. Now it's possible that Bridgnorth isn't big enough to support a monumental mason (or even a thin one), but I can't every imagine waking up and popping out to the market for some spuds and a memorial, for me or anyone else. Other considerations aside, you just know that the apostrophe's are going to be in the wrong place (mine is there as a joke, by the way).

My favourite grave is Ludwig Boltzmann's, a physicist who was so certain of his Constant (the equation describes entropy) despite the mockery of his fellow scientists that it's carved on his grave. Though he did kill himself. What will be on my grave? Perhaps an extract from a marking feedback sheet, such as 'Your meaning is unclear' or 'AFRICA IS A MASSIVE CONTINENT NOT A SMALL UNPOPULAR COUNTRY'.