After many therapies and every drug known to man, I came about mindfulness-based cognitive therapy for those of us with a wild bucking bronco, out-of-control mind. The good news is you do it on your own, no having to run to a shrink and it's free.
In fairness, it can't be easy trying to get people excited about politics in the UK, especially when you've got the likes of David Cameron and Nigel Farage ignoring you like you've just crawled out of Downton Abbey's servant's quarters to feed them dinner.
The territory with the least appreciated melancholy, perhaps, is reality TV. One of The Office's masterstrokes was it tapped into the (at the time) growing, Warholian trend of shows from which people became famous for being themselves rather than playing a fictional character.
Trust me, I totally understand a lady's right to a little wink wink, nudge nudge. Sex, in a nutshell. It's just, normally, I like to at least know a person's name before I get a good look at their nethers.
These days I've become increasingly bored of television formats and much prefer the company of my laptop, the neighbours cat (who wanders through my conservatory in a daily escape bid from captivity) and a mug of beef tea.