I was in Devon over the weekend and sat in a pub having lunch with my friends. In the corner was an eccentric man with a long beard, surrounded by books, candles and quill pens.
My first thought was that he was Santa, and I could ask for that expensive hair straightner appliance I've been wanting, but on closer inspection, I was that he was in fact the Bard of Beer. He had his poetry books around the pub (The Anchor Inn near the seafront), and I was sure I had made a fabulous discovery and that his poetry would lead to enlightenment for me.
But, as with so many things in life, disappointment waited for me. The Bard's writing was trite and overblown. See what you think:
'There is a wholeness, all things are complete, fulfilled: Vastness of the past, far flung future, meet, embrace in the Eternal Now.'
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