We have all read gravestone inscriptions at some time in our lives. If they are not those of our own predecessors we might consider the lives of those whose remains lie beneath for a few seconds, but rarely more.
If I say that the gravestone I am thinking of as I write is in the churchyard of St Lawrence’s in Effingham, some, more knowledgeable, might immediately jump to the conclusion that it is the most famous grave we have, that of the bouncing bomb man, Sir Barnes Wallis. But it is not.
