The Bollington War Graves: A Community Neglect

 

The Silence at St John’s:  

As you wander along Church Street in Bollington, you will see the now increasingly derelict St John’s church. With dwindling numbers of worshippers, the site has been waiting for developers for some time. But there is a shadow hanging over this land: as planning applications for the site move forward, the future of our 15 Commonwealth war graves is in peril. They must not be disturbed or relocated. Furthermore, hidden somewhere beneath the moss and thick, overgrown grass lies a veteran of the Battle of Waterloo. This churchyard is a sacred historical record, not a wilderness to be sanitised for profit.

The Discovery

Just over a year ago, my neighbour—a former member of the Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders—told me about these graves, which he had cared for since he first discovered them. To my surprise, I found there are 15 Commonwealth war graves in the cemetery—an unusually large number for a small town like ours.

All but two of the graves contain victims of the First World War who died in service or after returning home with injuries sustained in service. Most are marked with the familiar white Portland stone headstones. Four of the servicemen were interred in family graves at the expense of the Commonwealth War Graves Commission.

When I visited St John’s for the first time in June 2025, I was surprised and, to be honest, slightly ashamed. Not only was I unaware of them, but I found them in a terribly neglected and overgrown state. It was evident they were not completely forgotten; each year before Remembrance Sunday, the graves were tidied so that poppies and Union flags could be placed there for 11 November. In June, however, the evidence remained: fading flags and, behind the headstones, the tattered remains of the previous year’s offerings.

The Institutional Failure

I took it upon myself to tidy and care for the graves, and I tried to prompt Bollington Council to develop a sustainable plan for their maintenance. Their response? A reliance on "community payback" teams. While the sentiment of community involvement is fine, the execution is deeply flawed. These teams, lacking the specialised training or the personal connection required for such delicate heritage sites, arrive with strimmers. Fortunately, they do not touch or damage the war graves themselves, simply because I have already meticulously cared for them, marking them out as sacred ground. However, their presence highlights the council's failure: they outsource the maintenance of our town's history to an indiscriminate labour scheme rather than ensuring professional, respectful stewardship.
I later attended one of the councillors' drop-in sessions at the Town Hall. I made it clear that I considered it hypocritical for council members to dress in their finery and march behind the band on Remembrance Sunday when they neglect the veterans lying in our churchyard for the rest of the year. I expressed the view that if these graves were in France or Belgium, they would never have been left in such a state.

A Man, a Heritage, and an Oversight

Perhaps most offensively, among those resting here is Private Alfred Wright. He left Bollington as a young man, emigrated to Australia, and returned to fight for the Allied cause. For years, his headstone has been repeatedly inflicted with a Union Jack on Remembrance Sunday, yet he is never once remembered on Anzac Day. It is a profound failure of basic cultural awareness and a disrespect to his heritage. This year, on 1 July, I ensured that was corrected; I placed an Australian flag at his grave to honour the man he was. If we cannot even get the flag right for a man who travelled across the world to return to his home soil, it is little wonder that the care of his final resting place—and the others around him—has been left to rot. (See the biographical note below for more on Private Wright’s remarkable journey and service).

The Fool's Duty

On 1 July of this year, I held another public walk and talk on the anniversary of the Battle of the Somme. This time, I did so in my capacity as Gabblewack the Village Fool. If I could not make a difference as a private citizen, perhaps he could. Only two people attended, and we could hear the cheering for England as they scored their winning goal against the Democratic Republic of Congo.
You won’t see me at the Remembrance parade. I stopped attending during the Iraq War, the year it was hosted by an American preacher from one of our local churches. His speech echoed the same triumphalism that deterred my father and his four brothers (who all served in World War II) from attending Remembrance services. Ever since, I have played the Last Post at full volume from my flat roof to echo around White Nancy as my personal act of remembrance.

As a cognitive behavioural therapist, I have treated many who served our country in wars from World War II to Afghanistan. I do not believe we should rely on the Royal British Legion to care for the graves; their resources are better directed toward the veterans still among us. These graves have fallen into the cracks of apathy: a churchyard no longer used and thus neglected by the Church of England, a lack of consistent attention from the Commonwealth War Graves Commission, and the inability or unwillingness of our local council to engage with grassroots activists. That leaves Gabblewack—a fool—to do the job. Which he does willingly, because he now thinks of them as 'my boys', are they yours?

Biographical Note: 

Private Alfred Wright (2868)
Alfred Wright was born in 1890 in Bollington, the son of George and Martha Wright (formerly Unwin). He lived on Wellington Road in 1891 and 1901, and by 1911, he was working as a calico weaver and living at 9 Courier Road. Before emigrating to Australia to work as a miner, he was employed as a spinner at the local Waterhouse Mill and was associated with St Oswald’s.
He enlisted in the 4th Battalion, Australian Infantry, on 31 July 1915 at Newcastle, New South Wales. While serving in France, he participated in the Battle of Épehy on 18 September 1918—a dramatic success for General John Monash’s Australian divisions, though one that cost 1,260 Australian casualties.
Alfred was on leave in the UK from 24 October 1918. Tragically, he was admitted to the 2nd Western General Hospital (Alexandra Park, Stockport) on 2 November 1918 and died of pneumonia the following day, aged 27. He was buried at St John’s, Bollington, in plot 1067. He is remembered on the memorials at Bollington and St Oswald’s and is listed on the 1917 Roll of Honour.

As a cognitive behavioural therapist, I have treated many who served our country in wars from World War II to Afghanistan. I do not believe we should rely on the Royal British Legion to resolve this; their resources are better directed toward the veterans still among us. These graves have fallen into the cracks of apathy: a churchyard no longer used and thus neglected by the Church of England, a lack of consistent attention from the Commonwealth War Graves Commission, and the inability or unwillingness of our local council to engage with grassroots activists. That leaves Gabblewack—a fool—to do the job. Which he does willingly, because he now thinks of them as 'my boys', are they yours?

Postscript: 

Use of Ai 

The wonderful Bollington Parish records contain details of all the men from Bollington who served and died in both World Wars. Last year, I laboriously navigated the records to identify the names of those who served and their home addresses. This year, I asked my assistant, Google AI, to use the Bollington Parish war records as a primary source and list the streets. I encourage you to try it yourself, but also ask why the death rates were so high, or how many men returned with wounds, alcohol problems, or sexually transmitted diseases. Ask how the widows and their children were treated, or how many men suffered from what we now recognise as PTSD.