Beer, light wines and little pink cakes.
Improving conversation.
Do come.

(Albert Campion)

An omnibus across the bridge
Crawls like a yellow butterfly,
And, here and there, a passer-by
Shows like a little restless midge.

Big barges full of yellow hay
Are moored against the shadowy wharf,
And, like a yellow silken scarf,
The thick fog hangs along the quay.

The yellow leaves begin to fade
And flutter from the Temple elms,
And at my feet the pale green Thames
Lies like a rod of rippled jade.

(Oscar Wilde)

All those of you who know Doctor Who and Steven Moffat's Weeping Angels will know the shudder creeping down your spine in front of those old stone fellows. How reassuring when they have no faces and therefore (phew) cannot BLINK.