An innocent Sunday

Up fairly early for us on Sunday, after quorn sausage sandwiches. Lorraine and I had a longish walk and a good breath of fresh air and popped into a garage to look at second hand cars and spoke to a cagey second hand car salesman who we didn't warm to. A relaxed afternoon. I read Blake's Songs of Innocence & Experience for the first time in decades, much more intrigued by the Innocent ones than I remember, which the more you look at them, the odder they become. I have a book with Blake's pictures in them too. He was an unusual cove, and all the better for that. Lorraine working this afternoon, and I snoozed and cooked roast chicken and spoke to Mum and Toby who may be coming to blighty in the Spring.

Below The Sick Rose as printed by William Blake.