Depressive Poets' Society

I wouldn't like anyone to think I'm distancing myself from Hnaef's new scheme.  Goodness knows we're thoroughly in favour of anyone coming up with alternative ways to express spirituality.  And poetry enlightens the soul in a way little else does, while offering alternative views of God and Humanity.  So poetry, qua poetry, I'm all in favour of.

But Hnaef's come up with this latest idea that reading depressing poetry, by the less cheerful poets, will unleash the Right Hemispheres of our brain, putting us in touch with out primeval  Self.  Sounds like pure eyewash to me, but as I say we respect creative views, no matter how barmy.

So today's programme included readings from Thomas Hardy, John Clare, Siegfried Sassoon, Wilfred Owen and  Baldrick.

The vast majority of the Beaker People are now hiding under the tables in the Refectory, sobbing helplessly.  Some of the stronger of us have settled into watching the whole first four series of "Friends" in the hope that will give them some comfort.  Young Keith and his pals are off down the White Horse, but I don't think they're turning to drink so much as turned a long time ago.

Tomorrow's reading of "The Wasteland" is cancelled.  Turns out June is the cruellest month.