Instead of being weighed down by the complex and disturbing world I decided to try to find some light relief from one of my poetry books – an indulgence that gives me endless pleasure. The book fell open at Thomas Hood (1799-1845) a clever poet with a wicked sense of humour.

To Minerva – By Thomas Hood

My temples throb, my pulses boil,
I’m sick of Song, and Ode, and Ballad-
So, Thyrsis, take the Midnight Oil,
And pour it on a lobster salad.

My brain is dull, my sight is foul,
I cannot write a verse, or read-
Then, Pallas, take away thine Owl,
And let us have a lark instead.

Haven’t we all felt like that at some point, I know I have (although I couldn’t eat a lark!)

Best wishes – Denny Bradbury