The day began with a protracted ugh this morning. My brain, in its infinite wisdom, has taken to keeping me awake in the wee small oors while it chunters away producing scraps of poetry and grand philosophical concepts and it will not let me sleep. I say wee small oors because last night we watched a programme about the Scots language. OH is very enthusiastic about this and has always wanted to go back and live in Scotland; what with being a McIntyre Ure and owning a spurtle and everything. Frankly, the thought of leaving England to its own devices and moving North grows more appealing by the day; every time I listen to Nicola Sturgeon I think how eminently sensible she sounds compared to Boris Johnson (yeah, I know most people fit into that category but still.) Independence looks closer by the day and there’s still a chance that an independent Scotland could rejoin the EU under its own steam. They’ve got a good case for it; Scotland never voted for Brexit and besides, they have a history of sovereign nationhood and forming alliances with other European countries – well, France anyway, which is more than England ever did. I’ve more and more sympathy with independence as time goes by; the only drawbacks would be for England as it’d be near impossible to get a Labour government again. Then again, who knows?
Ironically, some hard-line Brexiteers are also in favour of independence – for England. These people think England can float off and go it alone, make our own way in the world and give these johnny foreigners what for. It’s madness. But it’s a madness that informs current government ‘thinking’.
I’m ashamed to be English right now. We’re an embarrassment.