It’s been a while.
It has been a while.
In fact, it’s been the length of time it takes for me to stop choking on the bile of raging, hate-filled impotent fury.
I’m not doing a dissection job on the Brexshit (thanks Jess) outcome. No point.
Except to say that nothing will convince me that the result wasn’t – purely and simply -the first English nationalist troll-child – the first product, that is, to survive to term, the pairing of the British (please read ‘English’) trash xenophobic press and the results of too many years of Tory ‘austerity’. I can’t say the names of the Tory and UKIP and fucking Labour (what a fucking joke of a shitty political party they are) politicians who acted as midwives. They’ve made mendacity an art form.
This was an English result. Not Scottish. Not Northern Irish.
The force underpinning it is a very immature vision of English national identity – a nascent version of the type of ethnic nationalism folk around my age have been taught to fear as a consequence of Hitler. This was the primary reason I voted Yes in the Scottish Independence Referendum. I could see and taste and smell it back then.
It’s the nationalist disaster that happens when there isn’t a politician with any sense to see that if you start to create devolved Parliaments for some partners in a ‘Union’ then you are just incubating trouble for later. And it’s what happens when unscrupulous (isn’t that just a totally superfluous adjective?) politicians come along later and capitalise on the potential for tension between the partners in that Union.
Just reflect on how successful Cameron’s appeal to ‘the English’ was when he played on fears of a potential coalition between Miliband’s Labour and Sturgeon’s SNP. In fact, some believe it was fear of disproportionate Scottish influence that really jet-propelled the Labour failure (I don’t – Labour was just fucked as soon as it embraced the Tory narrative that austerity was necessary because of previous Labour financial mismanagement) and that secured Cameron his (slim) majority.
I am guaranteeing I have an escape route and applying for my Irish passport (I qualify as a consequence of my very much loved maternal Grandmother who was born in Keady pre-partition) – something that will likely be of bigger value to my kids.
Meg is certainly relieved as it means she can live and work in Germany avoiding any potential Brexit-created difficulties when she’s finished the degree here.
She’s now back from the Erasmus year – and all I want to say is that I would bow down and kiss the feet of whoever came up with the idea for the Erasmus scheme – no honour is too high.
Our ferry journey back was as expected: very cramped. And that was after I’d persuaded Megan to leave some of her stuff in Germany…
As for our 36 days in Germany/Czech Republic – ahhhh. I loved every single minute. Maybe not the 10 days I spent sweating out the first flu I have ever suffered from. But certainly every single other minute. Even the ones where I mixed up left and right instructions and R and I spent time shouting at one another in the car.
It’s all over now.
Back to work tomorrow.