Dark, dark, we all go into the dark!
I’m afraid the hunt for the Kingfisher of Little Bowden will have to be called off until the Spring. My walk to the station in the morning is now conducted in darkness once again – here we see St. Nicholas’s at 6.30 on Monday morning:
To keep my spirits up, I whistled Lead, Kindly Light – written, of course, by the recently beatified Cardinal Newman – which, appropriately, I think, we had sung at evensong the previous evening.
Lead, Kindly Light
Lead, kindly Light, amid th’encircling gloom, lead Thou me on!
The night is dark, and I am far from home; lead Thou me on!
Keep Thou my feet; I do not ask to see
The distant scene; one step enough for me.
I was not ever thus, nor prayed that Thou shouldst lead me on;
I loved to choose and see my path; but now lead Thou me on!
I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears,
Pride ruled my will. Remember not past years!
So long Thy power hath blessed me, sure it will, will lead me on.
O’er moor and fen, o’er crag and torrent, till the night is gone,
And with the morn those angel faces smile, which I
Have loved long since, and lost awhile!
The Crimson Rambler 
I tell you what BW, being a bit of an over-imaginative old Hector, I would be too frit to walk through a churchyard on my own in the dark, morning or night, even if the Baby Jesus had his arm round me.
Irish Alice and I occasionally have to walk back through Great Bowden churchyard in the dark after a night in the company of Bacchus and there is a lot of squealing and falling off our heels, I can tell you!
I have heard reports of ghostly goings-on in the GB churchyard. Perhaps you are the explanation?