So, as yesterday was Friday the 13th with a full moon, a cosmological experience that won’t occur again until 2049, I felt the need to celebrate in some way. Some friends came over and we watched When a Stranger Calls (2006). All I have to say about film analysis on that one is: BAD DIALOGUE.
After that, one friend and I decided to head to a graveyard to search for the grave which inspired J.K. Rowling with the name Tom Riddle.
Doesn’t that look ominous? Well, this is the graveyard we entered, and for anyone who knows me or has been reading this blog for a while, you have probably picked up on the fact that zombies, ghosts, demons, etc. freak me out more than any actual terrible thing, such as drowning or burning to death, ever will. So wandering around a graveyard at midnight on Friday the 13th…not the best idea. Also we neglected to bring a flashlight of any kind, I didn’t have my phone with me, and my friend’s phone was on its last precious moments of battery, so we couldn’t use one of them either. I was also wearing sandals. The perfect combination for getting brutally murdered by a psycho killer, right?
In the graveyard there were tons of headstones that were broken, fallen over, or scratched and eroded so much that they were no longer legible.
Which naturally, contributed to the general eeriness. There was also a hooded figured who wandered silently around the graveyard, appearing in corners out of nowhere, watching us, and texting on his phone. As well as a couple sitting on a bench, clearly harnessing sexual energy from the full moon.
After meandering through mausoleums and deteriorating headstones, we finally found him. Tom Riddle. Or, Thomas Riddell.
And his son, Thomas Riddell, and his daughter, Christan Riddell. Poor muggles, killed by a vengeful half-blood grandson.
By the way of muggle history, the graveyard where Tom Riddell is buried is famous for another reason: Greyfriar’s Bobby.
This heroic dog visited his master’s grave every day until the dog also died, and was buried in the cemetery.
Honestly, I don’t know what the big deal is about these dogs who know their master has passed away and remain faithful anyway. Maybe they serve as a reminder to humankind how precious loyalty actually is, since we seem to throw it around like an American football. There is a similar monument for a dog in Tokyo.
And one in New York that became one of my most favorite childhood films.
I would be unreasonably happy if I could write even one children’s film that touches some child the way Balto touched me.
But in conclusion, I found Tom Riddle, and dogs are awesome.
And for fun, here is a creepy picture of Edinburgh Castle from the graveyard.