so for the second summer i'm doing the TS eliot school, which is like poetry/prose bootcamp. for a week, we OD on lectures then at the weekends, we take loooooooong-ass coach trips to little gidding, east coker, and burnt norton to read a poem, eat lunch and drive home. the trips to elsewhere to read a poem seems especially hilarious. but then, yesterday, jeremy irons dropped by to read us prufrock on his way to dinner. so i guess our strangeness is in good company.