On a gloomy gloomy gloomy gloomy gloomy gloomy day

Rain poured, wind blew, the sea was doing its autumn thing:

ravaged seaweed striping the shore;

clay roiling and churning;

horizon threatening.

I went home to make holes in pots in the gathering gloom :

which made The Hole Book an apposite find.  It is politically incorrect one way or other on every single page.  Others might like to try it.

http://publicdomainreview.org/collections/the-hole-book-1908/

I owe my post title to Adrian Mitchell’s delicious poem, Not a very cheerful song I’m afraid.

Adding to the gloom, the squid remained ungrouted.