FIVE roses wrapped in cellophane lay against the foot of the white obelisk that stands in Hampstead cemetery in memory of the fallen dead of the two world wars of the last century.
There was no message or sign of who had left the roses.
Nor any sign that a Remembrance Sunday service had been held in the little memorial green in the cemetery in Fortune Green Road, West Hampstead.
Religious services to honour the heroes of the last two wars have long ceased to be held in front of the little cenotaph.
It was four years ago that members of the now defunct Hampstead British Legion last saluted as a wreath was laid against the obelisk.
On Sunday morning the green was ghostly silent.
In the distance I could hear the sound of traffic. As I bent down to look at the roses I could hear the whirr of a lawn mower in a nearby garden.
Then I walked to a little space behind the obelisk where lay 12 forlorn graves of men killed in World War II. No one appeared to have visited them for years.
One grave stood out. Next to it lay a small sprig of flowers. Above them, the legend stated it was the grave of 212751 Sapper F J Jolly, Royal Engineers, killed on October 10, 1942. Below, it stated: “In dearly beloved memory of my husband and father of our child.”
A card attached to the flowers read: “Dear Frank, You are never forgotten. You, like many others, lost your life so early during the war. We remember you with our love, always…” Three names ran under the inscription.
Two years ago, I recall, I met a relative of Frank Jolly who used to live in West Hampstead. Though, I discovered, his family have long since moved to the suburbs they still pay their respect to the young man who died so early in life.
As I left the cemetery I wondered why our schools, scouts or youth clubs don’t organise visits on Remembrance Sunday so that the memory of men who lived in the borough and perished in the wars would not entirely vanish.
If they had been there on Sunday perhaps they would have given thought, as I did, to those who have been killed in the Iraq war – not only young teenage British soldiers but the many thousands of Iraqi men, women and children.

Margot James

Oh Margot! You’ve done it again . . .

THE over-anxious Margot James, always on the look out for votes as the Tory Parliamentary candidate for Holborn and St Pancras, has done it again.
Last week I disclosed she had shot off leaflets to pricey homes in the comfy Bedford Court mansion block in Bloomsbury haranguing the residents about how Camden council was failing its down-trodden tenants. “Fed up with waiting for repairs?” it asked.
This week, she followed up this marvel of targeted leafleting by distributing a similar leaflet to the even pricier homes in Regent’s Park Road, Primrose Hill, where houses fetch anything up to £3 or £4 million.
Puzzled residents, who include newcomer celebrity chef Jamie Oliver, read how Margot Jones promised to “bring all lifts up to standard” and “put the dog back into dog patrols.”
In a letter to the New Journal this week Margot Jones tries to explain away the leaflet.
Either her team have failed the grasp the first principle of how to target the electorate or they really believe their own political sophistry that “private householders” are “tired of being misled by Camden housing.”

Strube down memory lane

SIDNEY Strube’s ‘Everyman’ caricature of an Englishman, with a coiffeured moustache, rolled umbrella, bowler hat and general air of pressure, is one of the most emblematic symbols of the 20th century.
Indeed Strube himself described the character as “trying to keep his ear to the ground, his nose to the grindstone, his eye to the future and his chin up – all at the same time”.
And his work, from pre-World War I days is going on show at the Political Cartoonist Gallery, in Store Street, Bloomsbury, from next Thursday. It will be opened by the self-made entrepreneur Richard Desmond who initially accumulated his wealth through such illuminating magazines as Asian Babes before rising higher in society with the purchase of the Daily Express and the Daily Star.
Strube, who died in 1956, not only spent 36 years producing cartoons for the Daily Express, but also for some time ran the Wells Tavern in Hampstead, where he lived all his life.

Something for the ladies

THERE can’t be many greater challenges in film, you might think, than directing two of our great national treasures in your first feature.
But Charles Dance (pictured), who moved recently to Kentish Town, wasn’t fazed by the challenge.
Never unsure of his own talents, Dance told a spellbound audience at the Screen on the Hill, Belsize Park, on Sunday that directing Dames Maggie Smith and Judi Dench was “easy”.
Speaking after a screening of Ladies in Lavender, which he scripted and produced, he told the audience: “Between takes Maggie would sit there with her Telegraph and Judy with her needlepoint.”
Both perform faultlessly in the film, I am happy to report. But Dance’s leaden script means this is one for ladies of a similar age only.