Eight years ago, I attended a Remembrance Day service at the old Folkestone cemetery. It’s the kind of place you might walk past without even realising it’s there—tucked away across the road from a well-known supermarket on Cheriton Road. But every Armistice Day, a small gathering of veterans and civic leaders comes together at the Machine Gun Corps (Cavalry) memorial to remember those who gave their lives in wartime.
That service stayed with me, and a few days later, curiosity got the better of me—I went back for a closer look. At first, all I could see were towering buddleia bushes and tangles of brambles swallowing up most of the graves. But when I started pushing back the undergrowth, it became clear that this cemetery was more than just a resting place. It’s a time capsule of Folkestone’s social, military, and civic history.
The cemetery, now closed to new burials except for family ashes, holds around 27,000 burials in 15,000 plots. Back in the day, unrelated people were often interred together, with two or even three sharing a single grave. Among the family plots and memorials, there are 46 Commonwealth War Graves and three recipients of the Victoria Cross—a humbling testament to Folkestone’s part in larger national stories.
Recognizing the cemetery’s historical importance, I helped form a small volunteer group dedicated to its care. Let me tell you, it hasn’t been easy. The weeds seem to grow back faster than we can cut them, and with the council only mowing the grass twice a year, many memorials vanish beneath a sea of green for months on end. But our efforts have uncovered so much of Folkestone’s past, thanks largely to the dedication of our volunteers and the growing skills of our own family history detectives.
Carole and Karl, in particular, have become wizards at uncovering family histories. They’ve published countless detailed accounts on Ancestry and Findagrave, connecting long-lost relatives across the globe to their family roots here in Folkestone.
Some of the stories we’ve uncovered are incredible. Take Arthur Mudge Branfoot, for example—a retired Surgeon General in the Indian Medical Service, or John Thomas Fagg, a fisherman who drowned while lowering a sail, one of three men lost that day. There’s John “Chopper” Anderson, a beloved Folkestone Town Crier, and James Clark, a young man who actually died in London but was the very first entry in the cemetery’s burial registers. Timothy Daly, a local character known for his antics (and occasional drunkenness), died in the workhouse, possibly as a centenarian. George Keel, reportedly 108 at the time of his death, spent his final days at Folkestone’s Smallpox Hospital with his family.
Then there’s Frederick Standing, one of 19 children, who served as an air raid warden during World War I, and the Tull family—Daniel and Alice, parents of Walter Tull, the trailblazing footballer and Army officer of Afro-Caribbean descent. And let’s not forget Sidney Cooper Weston, a philanthropic photographer whose contributions are memorialized by the Weston Water Fountain.
Every grave has a story, whether it’s marked by an elaborate memorial or a simple, unmarked patch of grass. Together, they weave the history of this area, one life at a time.
If this intrigues you, I’ve written a book called Grave Stories of Murder, Mystery and Misfortune – Uncovering Real Stories from Old Folkestone Cemetery, which you can find on that rather popular online store that sells everything under the sun.
We’re always looking for new volunteers, so if you fancy a bit of fresh air and don’t mind tackling weeds and brambles, come and join us! We’re usually there on Saturday mornings between 10:30 and 1:30 (weather permitting). Or, if research is more your thing, there’s plenty of history still waiting to be uncovered. Check out our website at www.fofc.uk to find out more.
