Having just returned from a delightful and all too short trip to Dundee Scotland (a beautiful small town just ’round the coast and across the Tay from St. Andrews), my mind is still pleasantly reverberating from just how wonderful the people are. There is an amazing warmth to the people who live there, a genuine sense of acceptance, that is a lovely thing to experience.
I thoroughly enjoy living in the big city (and it doesn’t get much bigger than New York), but for a change it was a delight to be bathed in the magic of a small town, a place where everyone, it seems, knows everyone — and absolutely everybody has a deliciously sardonic sense of humor.
And there’s nothing quite like standing by the Tay Bridge whilst reading William McGonagall’s infamous poem “The Tay Bridge Disaster”, which the residents of Dundee are proud to explain is possibly the worst poem ever written.
Does it make me a terrible person if I burst out laughing at the end of a poem about the tragic death of 90 people? I couldn’t help it. The last stanza killed me.
“x”, count me in too! 🙂
Yes, I also couldn’t help laughing out loud when I got to the last line.
If literature is a way of communicating emotion effectively, then maybe this poem is an example of “anti-literature”.