Sepia Saturday. It was from a black and white print, but didn't my computer do a grand job of 'aging' it for me?
I can no longer remember who I made it for, but I do know the roses on it were palest blush pink. And I'd love a slice to eat right now. For breakfast. Instead of which, I shall have my usual porridge with a dash of cream the milkman will have left on my doorstep this morning.
And thereby hangs a tale. I stopped blogging at this point, and went to retrieved milk, cream and cheese from the mercy of the elements. It had been sitting there for a good two to two and a half hours, as the milk cart hums by at about 5am. As I picked up the carrier bag, bottle and a leaflet, the sound of a snail dropping onto my pathway made a crack not unlike a pistol cap.
But it was only when I opened out the flyer that I realised where he'd been clinging, and why.
Of all the strange pictures I've posted since Hilary of The Smitten Image fame tempted me into the world of illustration, this one must surely rank amongst the most peculiar. Nobody could ever say my Napple Notes blog is too predictable for words...