There is an interesting discussion on one of my regular feeds, roughtype ,at the moment about the superficial nature of reading blogs and RSS, and how it may be destroying or compromising a slower, contemplative thought process. I read it in a vague nodding my head kind of way, but then something happened yesterday that changed my mind.

gapingvoid has become my favourite site, I find the cartoons funny, and they normally bring a smile, or even make me laugh outloud. This is a good thing. This cartoon, though, made me pause and remember something really significant.  

Nearly 20 years ago. as a shy Politics and English Lit undergrad, my ability to recite this poem after a couple of beers enabled me to catch the eye of a girl who I had admired from afar, but I not had the nerve to try and talk to directly using prose.   William Blake, I owe you a big one. Charlotte and I have been married for 10 years and have three great kids. (they

currently holidaying back home in South Africa, while I earn the crust here in Germany)

What has this got to do with the roughtype post, well quite a lot really. Hugh's blog reminded me of that poem and of the joy that reading a good poem can bring. Probably a lot of people remembered it, and may even have read the poem again.

I quickly googled some of the old favourites, and I spent several hours last night with Keats, Yeats, Healy, Wordsworth, Dunn, Auden, Plath, Thomas and so on. I've taken the poetry books down from the bookshelf.

Most importantly though. Hugh's post  reminded me how much I love my wife. 

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