In remembrance of Yeats in Italy

I woke this morning to a grey murky sky, one with the possibly of becoming what my Dad would call a soft day. The neighbours were unusually noisy playing a game of musical cars. Revving engines are not the most cheerful way to be woken. Bleary eyed, I head into the kitchen and, in automatic mode, I open my laptop to check emails and updates etc. the usual weekly routine, but today is Saturday. This glorious fact was emphasised when I saw an old friend had posted Sailing to Byzantium, by W.B. Yeats. Today is the 13th of June; Yeats’ birthday. An unusual but wonderful way to start the weekend, reading the writings of Yeats.

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