I haven’t posted recently, and am feeling guilty as quite a lot of you took the trouble to drop by on Wednesday. The truth is, I am still editing, but I should finish, tomorrow or Sunday, and get back to enjoying doing some new writing.
It’s hard to keep the comedic banter going, now that the Coronavirus has been declared a World Health Emergency. The enormity of its threat to our very existence has rather paled Brexit Day into submission. Not that this day is anything to celebrate, its more like a wake. It’s a day I hoped would never come, along with half the British population.
Our shambolic withdrawal from the European Union does not make me feel proud to be British. The cringe-worthy sight of Nigel Farage and his cronies waving child-sized Union Jacks just about finished me off. His infantile behaviour in a room bursting with great minds and forward thinkers was the final straw.
My heart will remain in the EU. I only live fourteen miles away, and despite what the British Government believes, Europe will always stay a part of me. My Grandmother’s Greek genes sealed the deal, and my love of Europe will forever remain, long after bloody Brexit day.