I entered the park and strolled to its summit to look for the umpteenth time at one of the best panoramas the capital has to offer.
The viewpoint is in the process of being smartened up. It has been slightly extended and new seating installed. A semi-circle of stone blocks divides the flat gravel area from the beginning of the grassy descent of the hill.
I arrived to find a mason just completing the carving of the name of the poet, artist, and mystic who drew inspiration from the hill, William Blake, into the stone.
The quote attached to his name was covered and no doubt will shortly be unveiled formally with some fanfare.
It was a strange sensation watching the hammer and chisel biting into the stone. Strange to think the words will live on long after me just as they have the poet.
Perhaps my yet unborn grandchildren - if I'm to have any at all - will stand here one day reading William Blake's name.
I wondered too if this blog offers more permanence than the thousands of newspaper articles I wrote.
I like to think Arsene and Florence - or what ever they're called - might be surprised what interested their grandfather.
For example, Here Comes The Sun, one of George Harrison's finest songs for The Beatles.