I dream of being up to date, but I have 4,096 emails lurking in my inbox and seven ‘to do’ lists in my handbag at the time of writing, to give you an idea of the backlog.

It’s already three weeks since I visited Abney Park Cemetery in London’s Stoke Newington, so I’d better get a photo and a few words on here before it’s absurdly late (like writing Christmas present thank you letters in June, which I wouldn’t put past me). And it gets one thing crossed off a list.

Abney Park is a magical woodland of toppled tombstones submerged in ivy, here and there a stone angel or figure, some minus their heads. I always feel a bit thwarted photographically without the reflection-making glass doors and windows of Recoleta Cemetery, but I soon found myself trampsing over the tangled growth to investigate. A sculpture of a horse’s head peering out of a horseshoe was one of my favourites. I spent ages trying to catch the shadows of oak and ivy that landed on the gravestones every time the sun broke through.

The image I want to show you, though, is something of a Mystery: a tiny cherub in a severed hand, lying at the foot – literally – of an ornate clawfoot tomb.

What I want to know is, how did it get there?

If you want to see the cherub in context next to the tomb, visit my page at facebook.com/TheCemeteryGirl.