I dare to dream about spending time with the people I care about, without being 2 meters apart. I dare to dream about going out for a meal, or to the theatre - how I've missed the smell of the greasepaint - and listening to Little Black Dress cook up a storm in the Blue Note Bar with other live music lovers. I dare to dream about a change of scene - I used to write poetry, just as well I gave it up. I dare to dream about soaking up the sunshine somewhere with the gentle lapping of the sea in my ears, free to inhale the exhilarating, briny COVID-19-free air. Joy.
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.
Now what? No doubt Johnson, having been officially elected by the populate, will get stuck in a.s.a.p and start to address pressing matters such as the underfunded NHS and the 14 million people living in poverty. Just like his predecessors at Number 10 have been doing since May 2010. Oh, but wait, how could I forget, Johnson's priority, of course, is Brexit.
In Jersey and Guernsey, we are only live a short hop from St. Malo and our Entente has been extremely Cordiale for years, thank you very much. Yet the repercussions of Brexit will affect us just as much as everybody domiciled in the UK mainland, not least when it comes supermarket shopping, as all our supplies are brought in by boat.
With just 41 days and counting... nobody said leaving the EU was going to be easy, but nobody said it was going to be a complete musical hall farce either.
I've learned by experience that one misconstrued adjective about a leading politician, even in jest, leads to the loss of hundreds of Social Media followers. And where would we be without our Social Media friends?
As Brexit looms, hard or soft, who knows? It is very tempting to let rip about how I feel about the UK leaving the EU. I live in Jersey, Channel Islands, our rock nestles off the coast of mighty France. So close you can almost smell the freshly baked croissants. If I shout, bon matin tout le monde from our north coast, I can expect to hear a rallying cry of bonjour mon ami echoing back across the 14 mile stretch of La Manche (English Channel) that separates us. Jersey may not be politically entwined with the UK, but I feel we are bracing ourselves for less of the bon accord we have so enjoyed for many years.
In these unstable times, our shrinking and volatile world needs us all to pull together and unite more than ever before. I hardly had time to mourn the implications of Brexit, when I became consumed with the US Presidential Election. I try never to publicly air my political views, particularly after receiving a post Brexit bashing after... Continue Reading →