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The morning after the night before

Yesterday it may not surprise Rusters that I had the 24/7 news channels broadcasting the Brexit crisis from the corner of my front room all day. Mostly this was because – I suspect like not a few Brits – I sensed this was an occasion of national and historical importance and wished to be a small part of it.

I’m not going to bore readers with a blow-by-blow account of what happened or my impressions/interpretations. You may have your own, which no doubt will be as perceptive (or more so) than mine, and/or you may have been drinking heavily from the well of broadcast coverage/analysis so have had more than your fill.

As it happens, I was otherwise fully engaged in writing an article (deadline Friday) to which I am committed but as yet have been unable to muster much inspiration, in shopping, in preparing for going away to the country from today until Saturday. After an early lunch and nap, I then had a meeting with a fellow director of a company to discuss matters of state and then changed into my sports gear to set off for a six mile walk, as is my occasional practice in both the cause of keeping fit (and dementia at bay) and ensuring that my new hip continues to work as well as possible.

By the time I had returned to chez moi I then just had time for a shower and a stiff gin & tonic before Pointless ended and the BBC TV Six O’ Clock News hit the airwaves.

A homemade burger with all the trimmings – including chips made with the aid of the new ‘air fryer’ machine I bought 48 hours ago – later I was primed and ready in my armchair for Andrew Neil to open the batting on his special Politics Live show covering the final knockings of the House of Commons debate and then the crucial votes.

By 8.00pm I’d had more than enough and so retired to my bedroom for a well-earned visit to the land of Nod.

Rising again shortly before 1.00am I went to my computer and thence my email account where waiting for me was a cheery missive from a great pal in Canada, an Anglophile of distinction and husband of my cousin.

He had punched it out from his own armchair, revelling in the theatre of watching the House of Commons at play – sorry, work – and saluting the British nation for its unique way of conducting a political crisis.

His gist was “Boy, you guys really know how to do this sort of thing – we Canadians (and as far as I can tell, the whole world) is watching spellbound. How did it come to this? What the hell is going on? How did it come to this? What is going to happen? Why didn’t anybody anticipate everything that has happened in the last six months? Who on earth was/is that Attorney General chappie? He could do a one-man show on Broadway and make a fortune …”

He has a point. Or maybe two or three.

I haven’t yet worked out quite how I’m going to respond to him. Anyone got any ideas ….?

About Lavinia Thompson

A university lecturer for many years, both at home and abroad, Lavinia Thompson retired in 2008 and has since taken up freelance journalism. She is currently studying for a distant learning degree in geo-political science and lives in Norwich with her partner. More Posts