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And to have avoided a first aid session for the paramedics of my travel coverage service.

It’s just after 3 in the afternoon. It is just under an hour until the sky of England is stained dark and everything is covered with stars, although the eternal cloudy English skies obstruct them. I am at Prestbury Cemetery to visit Brian Jones’ grave. His remains have been here since July 1969. Getting here is not an everyday thing. It is that, for some reason, I always thought that these were in Cheltenham, his hometown, but I deduce that all this time I was misinformed. It is certified by the first citizen I meet as soon as I get off the bus I took in London. Quite the contrary, to get to the neighboring village of Prestbury from Cheltenham I must take a very long walk through open country. Strictly speaking, leaving the city limits, reaching the next town …

It is a time of clear shock, mixed emotions, and deep anxiety. The Prestbury necropolis is beautiful and ancient, with green fields and stones as leaden as the sky above it; those typical of an old English cemetery, inland, nestled in the countryside. I go through the entrance gate to the cemetery. The ground feels firm and damp under my feet, but somehow it’s like walking on air. The feeling increases when I go to the information office, located just a few meters after the entrance to the cemetery. Intense cold prevails and a hostile wind blows. Prestbury Cemetery is not very extensive, anyway. Now I am talking to the clerk of the Secretariat, I tell her that I have come to visit a grave but that I do not know its whereabouts. I clearly point out that this is Brian Jones. “Oh, Brian?” He replies. He hands me a map of the place, in which he traces the path to the destination with a highlighter. “It’s not far, just go straight for about 60 meters, turn left at the first road and there it is, near the area where the cars park.” Seconds later, Brian’s headstone, the same one I’ve seen millions of times in various books and magazines, is only 6 feet from me. I look around and there is no one. Nobody, absolutely nobody. I can only hear some voices in the distance, surely from assistants to some funeral service that is being carried out not far away.

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