The Centre for European Reform (CER) published a report showing that the UK economy is 2.5% smaller already than it would have been if the UK had voted to remain. That equates to £19billion per year, or £360 million a week, £10 million more what the Brexiteers said on the side of a bus the UK would have extra if we left.
This is the real cost of Brexit, that will have real effects if we do end up leaving, in that the exchequer will have far lest to spend, and with more and more people to lose their jobs, less money to spread around to the old, sick, poor.
But how about that Brexit bonus, eh?
The front page of The Sunday Times suggested the Government could advise the Queen not to sign soft Brexit legislation that Parliament might pass. Think about that for the moment and try to equate that with the Brexit promise of returning sovereignty to Westminster? So the aim seems to be to keep more and more power with a small group of Ministers and have that power not subject to appeal or legal challenge.
These are the actions of a fascist state, and I don't use the term lightly. There is huge pressure on MPs to bow down to the alter of Brexit tomorrow, and in Conservative associations, stating with Dominic Grieve's, the deselection of moderates who advocate which was mainstream Conservative policy until 2016.
Some members of the Government are at least acknowledging the fact that the Government would have to accept what Parliament decides, if it can agree on anything.
What will happen? Well, I think possibly May's deal, but with that and remain being put to a referendum vote.
Any extension beyond April 12th will require the UK to prepare and participate in EU elections in May. Those who say this is not the case are either lying or ignorant. Or both.
Sunday, 31 March 2019
Saturday 30th March 2019
Each Sunday evening, the Botanical Society of Britain and Ireland (@BSBI) curate an event of Twitter each Sunday night, where under the hashtag, #wildflowerhour, people from all over the country publish pictures of plants and flowers they have seen each week. This, over the last two years or so, has enabled me to identify more and more flowers, go out looking for plants but be able to identify plants that I come across.
Some plants and flowers are most stunning than others, and just scream out that you should go out and find some, or wish you lived in the part of the country in which they grow. Grass of Parnassus is one, and Pasque Flower is another.
We have Pasques growing in a pot, but they are a cultivated variety, but there is a species that grows wild in Britain, just not in Kent.
So, I found a reserve in Hertfordshire where they grow, followed their Twitter account and waited until they were at their peak, and so on Saturday I was set to drive to Royston.
Yes, Royston.
I like Royston, not that I have ever been in the town, not even yesterday. But, back when I was in the RAF, we all had nicknames. Those that came to us from training claimed they had no nickname, so it was only fair we would give them one. Nicknames were not to be given lightly, could be where someone is from, like Geordie, Taff or so on, or something else, like if they were a big bloke, we could tall then Tiny.
Roy was difficult. He came from the north east, but not from Newcastle, and so we struggled for several minutes with his potential nickname whilst we taught him to play Uckers, Hunt or Nom.
Roy. Can't shorten that much.
Roy. Roysten.
Roysten. Yes, now, that is in Essex, no? So, Roy was called Essex.
Next day we tought Royston was in Cambridgeshire, but what the heck?
In fact, it is just in Hertfordshire.
Anyway, the reserve is on the edge of Royston, just off the A505, which used to be the main road from where I lived to NW London.
Anyway, the plan was laid. But I would be going without Jools, as she was to granny sit Bet, as Jane was going to London for a Walking Dead event in London (me neither) as Jen is still in Australia.
At seven, after coffee and getting dressed, I dopped Jools off in Whitfield and drove up the A2. Another cool but sunny start, but soon developed into a fine and warm day.
I was at the tunnel by eight, and driving up the M11 ten minutes or so later, pressing on, for no particular reason, other than I was excited.
Nearly into Cambridge, I turned west past the national aircraft museum, one day I'll go there, but not today. Twenty minutes to Royston, then around the town on the bypass, off at a roundabout and into a small car park, while on the down above, the bepringled ruined a good walk by playing golf.
Royston sits on the edge of The Fens; to the north flat farmland stretches to the horizon, or into the mist. While to the north, the north downs rose up; chalk downland, home to many rare plants and animals.
I got out of the car, walked to the information board, only to find it only told the history of the heath, nothing about what or where things could be found.
I drove on to the sports centre, and on the wall was a map, and Church Hill was near to where I parked first. So, I drive back, grabbed my camera stuff, and set off beside one of the long holes.
That the club shares the space with a nature reserve seems off, but when I needed to cross a hole, the golfers stopped and waved when I shouted my thanks to them.
With there being no signs, I wandered towards the downs, along a lane then through a gateway and up the chalk down. I could see no one, nor now flowers, except thousands of violets. Up I went, and then to my right I saw a single purple and yellow flower.
A Pasque Flower.
I took a few shots.
Further up I found two more growing together.
I was so happy, I stooped to take more shots.
Down below, a trio of golfers ponder their next puts on the green below. I stood up and saw two firgures ahead with the sun behind them They were standing in the middle of a purple carpet. Hundreds of Pasque Flowers.
So many, it made your head spin. Mnay were out, some fully, others just to open. The most sensational display, and just on the south and east flanks of this small down.
I talked to the couple, who were both armed with DSLRs, we swapped details and might meet again as they plan to come to Kent for some main season orchiding.
I was going to visit some churches nearby, but something told me I should get back into Kent, mainly so I could look for the first flowering spike of Early Purple, but I thought that traffic would only get heavier.
And I was right.
I made good time back south on the M11, but slowed as I neared London and turned onto the M25, only to be met with matrix warning signs saying the next junction was closed. Not much I could do about it, and there was a three mile queue waiting to leave onto the A12, and on the motorway going was stop start for some time. Traffic was much worse on the other carriageway, miles of stationary traffic going nowhere fast.
I make it over the bridge into kent, down the A2. It was always my plan to stop at Stockbury, but another queue of traffic there meant I would have turned off anyway.
Down the hill to where I turn off the main road, and within yards the silence of the countryside smothered all noise except the sirens of police cars trying to get to the accident I had just avoided
I park the car and walk up the lane to the reserve, Wood Anemones were carpeting the woodland floor, and a few bluebells here and there were opening. In the upper glade I look everywhere for the sign of a purple coloured spike, but all I found were rosettes.
No orchids in flower.
In the lower meadow, dozens of Lady Orchid rosettes were everywhere, many of an impressive size. Will be quite a show in two weeks or so.
I return to the car and drive to the M20, knowing that going will be slow because of the lorry park for Brexit, but should get home in time.
On the radio I have the football on, excitement building for me until Norwich kicks off at half five.
The cats greet me, so I feed them, but both turn their noses up at lamb. I listen to the football and listen to more football as the Prem season builds towards its climax in seven games time.
Time goes on and darkness falls, City kick off against Middlesborough. It was a close game, but early in the 2nd half, City score, and look like hanging on. Earlier Leeds had won, but Sheffield Utd had lost to Bristol, we could end up being seven points clear of 3rd place Blades.
Mike drops Jools back home, as I am swearing at the computer as Twitter reveals six minutes of injury time.
Once the final whistle goes, I cook dinner and open a wee bottle of Tripel to wash the frozen curry I had bought from a petrol station. Better than it sounds to be honest.
I watch the highlights of the Championship while sipping huge glasses of hedgerow port, which tastes very sweet as Norwich are now on the very edge of promotion.
Oh my word, heady days.
Some plants and flowers are most stunning than others, and just scream out that you should go out and find some, or wish you lived in the part of the country in which they grow. Grass of Parnassus is one, and Pasque Flower is another.
We have Pasques growing in a pot, but they are a cultivated variety, but there is a species that grows wild in Britain, just not in Kent.
So, I found a reserve in Hertfordshire where they grow, followed their Twitter account and waited until they were at their peak, and so on Saturday I was set to drive to Royston.
Yes, Royston.
I like Royston, not that I have ever been in the town, not even yesterday. But, back when I was in the RAF, we all had nicknames. Those that came to us from training claimed they had no nickname, so it was only fair we would give them one. Nicknames were not to be given lightly, could be where someone is from, like Geordie, Taff or so on, or something else, like if they were a big bloke, we could tall then Tiny.
Roy was difficult. He came from the north east, but not from Newcastle, and so we struggled for several minutes with his potential nickname whilst we taught him to play Uckers, Hunt or Nom.
Roy. Can't shorten that much.
Roy. Roysten.
Roysten. Yes, now, that is in Essex, no? So, Roy was called Essex.
Next day we tought Royston was in Cambridgeshire, but what the heck?
In fact, it is just in Hertfordshire.
Anyway, the reserve is on the edge of Royston, just off the A505, which used to be the main road from where I lived to NW London.
Anyway, the plan was laid. But I would be going without Jools, as she was to granny sit Bet, as Jane was going to London for a Walking Dead event in London (me neither) as Jen is still in Australia.
At seven, after coffee and getting dressed, I dopped Jools off in Whitfield and drove up the A2. Another cool but sunny start, but soon developed into a fine and warm day.
I was at the tunnel by eight, and driving up the M11 ten minutes or so later, pressing on, for no particular reason, other than I was excited.
Nearly into Cambridge, I turned west past the national aircraft museum, one day I'll go there, but not today. Twenty minutes to Royston, then around the town on the bypass, off at a roundabout and into a small car park, while on the down above, the bepringled ruined a good walk by playing golf.
Royston sits on the edge of The Fens; to the north flat farmland stretches to the horizon, or into the mist. While to the north, the north downs rose up; chalk downland, home to many rare plants and animals.
I got out of the car, walked to the information board, only to find it only told the history of the heath, nothing about what or where things could be found.
I drove on to the sports centre, and on the wall was a map, and Church Hill was near to where I parked first. So, I drive back, grabbed my camera stuff, and set off beside one of the long holes.
That the club shares the space with a nature reserve seems off, but when I needed to cross a hole, the golfers stopped and waved when I shouted my thanks to them.
With there being no signs, I wandered towards the downs, along a lane then through a gateway and up the chalk down. I could see no one, nor now flowers, except thousands of violets. Up I went, and then to my right I saw a single purple and yellow flower. A Pasque Flower.
I took a few shots.
Further up I found two more growing together.I was so happy, I stooped to take more shots.
Down below, a trio of golfers ponder their next puts on the green below. I stood up and saw two firgures ahead with the sun behind them They were standing in the middle of a purple carpet. Hundreds of Pasque Flowers.
So many, it made your head spin. Mnay were out, some fully, others just to open. The most sensational display, and just on the south and east flanks of this small down.
I talked to the couple, who were both armed with DSLRs, we swapped details and might meet again as they plan to come to Kent for some main season orchiding.I was going to visit some churches nearby, but something told me I should get back into Kent, mainly so I could look for the first flowering spike of Early Purple, but I thought that traffic would only get heavier.
And I was right.I made good time back south on the M11, but slowed as I neared London and turned onto the M25, only to be met with matrix warning signs saying the next junction was closed. Not much I could do about it, and there was a three mile queue waiting to leave onto the A12, and on the motorway going was stop start for some time. Traffic was much worse on the other carriageway, miles of stationary traffic going nowhere fast.
I make it over the bridge into kent, down the A2. It was always my plan to stop at Stockbury, but another queue of traffic there meant I would have turned off anyway.
Down the hill to where I turn off the main road, and within yards the silence of the countryside smothered all noise except the sirens of police cars trying to get to the accident I had just avoidedI park the car and walk up the lane to the reserve, Wood Anemones were carpeting the woodland floor, and a few bluebells here and there were opening. In the upper glade I look everywhere for the sign of a purple coloured spike, but all I found were rosettes.
No orchids in flower.
In the lower meadow, dozens of Lady Orchid rosettes were everywhere, many of an impressive size. Will be quite a show in two weeks or so.
I return to the car and drive to the M20, knowing that going will be slow because of the lorry park for Brexit, but should get home in time.
On the radio I have the football on, excitement building for me until Norwich kicks off at half five.
The cats greet me, so I feed them, but both turn their noses up at lamb. I listen to the football and listen to more football as the Prem season builds towards its climax in seven games time.
Time goes on and darkness falls, City kick off against Middlesborough. It was a close game, but early in the 2nd half, City score, and look like hanging on. Earlier Leeds had won, but Sheffield Utd had lost to Bristol, we could end up being seven points clear of 3rd place Blades.
Mike drops Jools back home, as I am swearing at the computer as Twitter reveals six minutes of injury time.
Once the final whistle goes, I cook dinner and open a wee bottle of Tripel to wash the frozen curry I had bought from a petrol station. Better than it sounds to be honest.
I watch the highlights of the Championship while sipping huge glasses of hedgerow port, which tastes very sweet as Norwich are now on the very edge of promotion.
Oh my word, heady days.
Sunday Brexit
It is the start of a new week in UK politics, and in 12 days, the UK is due to leave the EU (again), and there really is no time to lose, as the default is to leave. with no deal.
And no matter how many times the Commons and Lords say and vote they do not want no deal, in order to really take it off the table, there has to be another course of action that does not just have a majority, but a sizeable cross-party one at that. Because, there is no point in going down a route if that a change of PM means that will just be unpicked or reneged upon.
Already brexiteers are saying that vote for the WA to scupper it later, which would just make the situation worse, or May is pushing very hard no for no deal.
Here's a secret:
In the WA there are three things:
1. Citizen's rights
2. Financial settlement
3. Irish backstop.
The EU has said this week that in the event of no deal, there will be no side deals. Nothing. Nada.
So the lie of the so-called "managed no deal" is exposed for what it is. More unicorns and cake.
And before talks on anything begin, three issues will have to be addressed:
1. Citizen's rights
2. Financial settlement (in full)
3. Irish backstop.
So, the UK either accepts the WA in order have a TA and some kind of Brexit. Or be forced into accepting it in full with the backdrop of the effects of no deal, and not being able to do anything until it is accepted.
So, the DUPs apparent decision that Brexit is a price to high to pay (for the union), meaning that the backstop is in force either way, and the only way to avoid it is to revoke.
Well.
And no matter how many times the Commons and Lords say and vote they do not want no deal, in order to really take it off the table, there has to be another course of action that does not just have a majority, but a sizeable cross-party one at that. Because, there is no point in going down a route if that a change of PM means that will just be unpicked or reneged upon.
Already brexiteers are saying that vote for the WA to scupper it later, which would just make the situation worse, or May is pushing very hard no for no deal.
Here's a secret:
In the WA there are three things:
1. Citizen's rights
2. Financial settlement
3. Irish backstop.
The EU has said this week that in the event of no deal, there will be no side deals. Nothing. Nada.
So the lie of the so-called "managed no deal" is exposed for what it is. More unicorns and cake.
And before talks on anything begin, three issues will have to be addressed:
1. Citizen's rights
2. Financial settlement (in full)
3. Irish backstop.
So, the UK either accepts the WA in order have a TA and some kind of Brexit. Or be forced into accepting it in full with the backdrop of the effects of no deal, and not being able to do anything until it is accepted.
So, the DUPs apparent decision that Brexit is a price to high to pay (for the union), meaning that the backstop is in force either way, and the only way to avoid it is to revoke.
Well.
Saturday, 30 March 2019
3327
Back to 1980.
In June 1980, my class went back to Germany. We stayed in the same place, Burgwedel, near to Celle which was a British garrison town at the time.
Due to some reason I ended up staying with the same host family, which meant more smoking, drinking and much shouting.
Germany felt so different in the summer, more vibrant. We visited Hanover again, but also Hamlin where I saw no rats.
I can honestly say, in four weeks in Germany I learned very little German. Sad to say I saw it more of a holiday. Real highlight was watching Nottingham Forest win the European Cup and that upsetting the Mother of my host family. Shit Legs she called Viv Anderson. Forest still won.
The real highlight was going back to the Harz Mountains and going on a mile long toboggan run/slide. It cost a bunch, and certainly would not be in compliance now with health and safety. We though the little cars could not leave the track, so we hurtled down at breakneck speed, lucky we did not break our necks.
Back in the 80s, 10p pieces were almost the same size as 5DM coins, close enough to fool all vending machines in town. The local vending company found all these 10ps in their machines, words were had with the local school, words were had with us, telling us to stop. Thing is 10p meant you could play pinball for two hours over there, we felt richer than we actually were.
Especially after I dropped my entire spending money outside a zoo and my friend Simon finding it.
We returned home to go into work experience week. I had no idea what I wanted to do. So, somehow I ended up working for two weeks in the offices of Shell in town, where they looked after getting natural gas from under the North Sea.
It was all pretty dull stuff, recording jet engine running hours, entering that in a log book, ensuring stores and supplies got sent out onto rigs.
Odd thing is that we were able to go to a posh restaurant in town to have lunch. A proper 3 course lunch, but had to pay 5p. That took 90 minutes of the working day, and we dined on fruit salad, followed by steak and rounded off by Black Forest Gateaux.
Productivity never really recovered in the afternoon.
My friend, Simon, wanted to work on the railways, so he was sent to work at the putting green on the sea front that had a miniature train running round the outside. Not that he ever got to drive it, he washed dishes and collected dirty plates for two weeks.
At the end of the two week, Shell arranged us to go out to two of the rigs by helicopter. This was exciting.
We had seen the supply helicopters landing in the town since I could remember, we thought if we waved hard enough they would land in our school playground.
Never happened.
But one Saturday morning we we driven out to Beccles Heliport to board the Seaking, which once it took of flew to Lowestoft than up the coast to Yarmouth before strking out for the Leaman Field. I got two snatched shots as we flew up the coast with the Instamatic, just to prove I did it. We lucked in there.
I wouldn't fly in a helicopter again until 1998 when I flew from Mount Pleasant to Camp Peto in the Falklands. Sitting in a Chinook, which was carrying a bag full of diesel, by way of a hook in the body of the helicopter and the floor being open. So, we flew along with our feet dangling in thin air as the ground slipped by beneath.
Summer of 1980 I went on my last family holiday. At least for seven years.
We went to St Ives, which was a huge improvement on Aberystwyth. But then anything is.
We travelled down on an HST, a real thrill for me, catching the train at Paddington all the way down to Cornwall. Seemed so modern, the mk3 coaches and ge windows to look out of. We saw HMS Art Royal in Plymouth, now decommissioned, looking forlorn, waiting for the cutter's torch.
St Ives is hilly. So hilly and the streets so narrow that the taxi could not reach our hotel from the station, we carried our cardboard cases up the hill.
I had a miserable time, and ensured that my parents did too, as I was lovesick. Suffering from unrequited love, unable to see the object of my affection until September. Not that it did me any good then as I was too shy to actually speak to her.
Oh well.
We did go to Lands End, and walk along the Lizard, which was a Tuesday, as I took a radio so we could listen to the top 20 countdown at lunchtime. David Bowie was number 1 wish Ashes to Ashes.
I was happy.
And when we went to Plymouth, I dragged my parents to HMV so I could buy Back in Black the day it came out.
Those were my holiday memories from that trip.
From then on I decided not go with them again, or for the next three years, staying home and having parties, nearly burning the house down and ruining several pieces of kitchen equipment.
In June 1980, my class went back to Germany. We stayed in the same place, Burgwedel, near to Celle which was a British garrison town at the time.
Due to some reason I ended up staying with the same host family, which meant more smoking, drinking and much shouting.
Germany felt so different in the summer, more vibrant. We visited Hanover again, but also Hamlin where I saw no rats.
I can honestly say, in four weeks in Germany I learned very little German. Sad to say I saw it more of a holiday. Real highlight was watching Nottingham Forest win the European Cup and that upsetting the Mother of my host family. Shit Legs she called Viv Anderson. Forest still won.
The real highlight was going back to the Harz Mountains and going on a mile long toboggan run/slide. It cost a bunch, and certainly would not be in compliance now with health and safety. We though the little cars could not leave the track, so we hurtled down at breakneck speed, lucky we did not break our necks.
Back in the 80s, 10p pieces were almost the same size as 5DM coins, close enough to fool all vending machines in town. The local vending company found all these 10ps in their machines, words were had with the local school, words were had with us, telling us to stop. Thing is 10p meant you could play pinball for two hours over there, we felt richer than we actually were.
Especially after I dropped my entire spending money outside a zoo and my friend Simon finding it.
We returned home to go into work experience week. I had no idea what I wanted to do. So, somehow I ended up working for two weeks in the offices of Shell in town, where they looked after getting natural gas from under the North Sea.
It was all pretty dull stuff, recording jet engine running hours, entering that in a log book, ensuring stores and supplies got sent out onto rigs.
Odd thing is that we were able to go to a posh restaurant in town to have lunch. A proper 3 course lunch, but had to pay 5p. That took 90 minutes of the working day, and we dined on fruit salad, followed by steak and rounded off by Black Forest Gateaux.
Productivity never really recovered in the afternoon.
My friend, Simon, wanted to work on the railways, so he was sent to work at the putting green on the sea front that had a miniature train running round the outside. Not that he ever got to drive it, he washed dishes and collected dirty plates for two weeks.
At the end of the two week, Shell arranged us to go out to two of the rigs by helicopter. This was exciting.
We had seen the supply helicopters landing in the town since I could remember, we thought if we waved hard enough they would land in our school playground.Never happened.
But one Saturday morning we we driven out to Beccles Heliport to board the Seaking, which once it took of flew to Lowestoft than up the coast to Yarmouth before strking out for the Leaman Field. I got two snatched shots as we flew up the coast with the Instamatic, just to prove I did it. We lucked in there.
I wouldn't fly in a helicopter again until 1998 when I flew from Mount Pleasant to Camp Peto in the Falklands. Sitting in a Chinook, which was carrying a bag full of diesel, by way of a hook in the body of the helicopter and the floor being open. So, we flew along with our feet dangling in thin air as the ground slipped by beneath.
Summer of 1980 I went on my last family holiday. At least for seven years.
We went to St Ives, which was a huge improvement on Aberystwyth. But then anything is.
We travelled down on an HST, a real thrill for me, catching the train at Paddington all the way down to Cornwall. Seemed so modern, the mk3 coaches and ge windows to look out of. We saw HMS Art Royal in Plymouth, now decommissioned, looking forlorn, waiting for the cutter's torch.
St Ives is hilly. So hilly and the streets so narrow that the taxi could not reach our hotel from the station, we carried our cardboard cases up the hill.
I had a miserable time, and ensured that my parents did too, as I was lovesick. Suffering from unrequited love, unable to see the object of my affection until September. Not that it did me any good then as I was too shy to actually speak to her.
Oh well.
We did go to Lands End, and walk along the Lizard, which was a Tuesday, as I took a radio so we could listen to the top 20 countdown at lunchtime. David Bowie was number 1 wish Ashes to Ashes.
I was happy.
And when we went to Plymouth, I dragged my parents to HMV so I could buy Back in Black the day it came out.
Those were my holiday memories from that trip.
From then on I decided not go with them again, or for the next three years, staying home and having parties, nearly burning the house down and ruining several pieces of kitchen equipment.
Friday 29th March 2019
Brexit Day. (not)
I rarely talk about work. Between the hours of eight and five, and beyond most days, my time is the company's. And things have been fine for the best part of five years.
But this last month, there are not enough hours in the day for me to work, answer mails, and get all the inspections done.
I don't normally do stress, but this past few weeks the stress levels have been building, meaning I am waking up before five, thinking about things I have to do that day. So, come four in the afternoon, I am pooped.
And after working the previous four days, by Friday I was shattered. I had three days mails to sort through, and several urgent tasks to get done, there wasn't enough time for it all.
And Jools had the day off.
And the weather was glorious.
I just wanted to wander round the countryside with nary a care in the world.
So, after coffee, Jools went into the garden to get stuff done, I settle down to sort the first urgent task, then sort out my travel expenses, send out more mails, create a new spreadsheet.
Have lunch.
More of the same.
And by two, I was done.
We go to the National Trust place so I can look for Early Spiders, get some sunshine and decompress.
We park in the coach park, despite not driving a coach. Jools goes for a bimble and I walk along the cliff edge with my eyes to the ground.
The orchids are out in Dorset, but not in Kent I can tell you, at least I saw none, just three rosettes.
Down below, the port was busy as ever, as one of the Spirit P&O ferries was unloading, with dozens of lorries driving off and round the port to the start of the A20.
I had an appointment with the chiropractor, so we drive back home, then I go down the hill to let Dan pummel me.
In fact, I feel better, and he agrees that my back isn't as bad as it was. But that costs forty two quid.
Once I got back home, Jools had to take the cats to the vets, so I nursed my back with drugs and sweet tea.
Before dinner we try to sort the stone garden on the front of the house out. We took up the old one, put down manure, now have a new liner and edging. We just have to get the edging sown and pegged in.
By six we were finished, or as far as we wanted to go, all there is to do is to put the monolith back, and the three buckets of slate chips back down.
And then it will be done, but that another day.
I rarely talk about work. Between the hours of eight and five, and beyond most days, my time is the company's. And things have been fine for the best part of five years.
But this last month, there are not enough hours in the day for me to work, answer mails, and get all the inspections done.
I don't normally do stress, but this past few weeks the stress levels have been building, meaning I am waking up before five, thinking about things I have to do that day. So, come four in the afternoon, I am pooped.
And after working the previous four days, by Friday I was shattered. I had three days mails to sort through, and several urgent tasks to get done, there wasn't enough time for it all.
And Jools had the day off.
And the weather was glorious.
I just wanted to wander round the countryside with nary a care in the world.
So, after coffee, Jools went into the garden to get stuff done, I settle down to sort the first urgent task, then sort out my travel expenses, send out more mails, create a new spreadsheet.
Have lunch.More of the same.
And by two, I was done.
We go to the National Trust place so I can look for Early Spiders, get some sunshine and decompress.We park in the coach park, despite not driving a coach. Jools goes for a bimble and I walk along the cliff edge with my eyes to the ground.
The orchids are out in Dorset, but not in Kent I can tell you, at least I saw none, just three rosettes.
Down below, the port was busy as ever, as one of the Spirit P&O ferries was unloading, with dozens of lorries driving off and round the port to the start of the A20.
I had an appointment with the chiropractor, so we drive back home, then I go down the hill to let Dan pummel me.In fact, I feel better, and he agrees that my back isn't as bad as it was. But that costs forty two quid.
Once I got back home, Jools had to take the cats to the vets, so I nursed my back with drugs and sweet tea.Before dinner we try to sort the stone garden on the front of the house out. We took up the old one, put down manure, now have a new liner and edging. We just have to get the edging sown and pegged in.
By six we were finished, or as far as we wanted to go, all there is to do is to put the monolith back, and the three buckets of slate chips back down.
And then it will be done, but that another day.
What now?
Good question.
And one with no clear answer.
It is said that May wants to bring MV4, thus giving MPs a third chance to change their mind. The electorate have been given no such luxury, lest they vote the wrong way.
To call this a farce would be giving farces a bad name, this is now a national embarrassment, as May as PM has no idea what to do, except the same thing as she has done for the last three years.
Meanwhile, the rest of the world looks on thinking, quite correctly, that we have lost our collective mind.
Monday sees the Commons in charge of the orders papers, and there will be another round of indicative votes, which may or may not come up with a popular plan B, that the first one eliminated "Norway plus" and no deal means that things are moving forward. More movement than in three years of Brexiteer controlled chaos.
To call Johnson a tinpot Churchill would be rude to tinpots.
He and JRM compomised their already compromised positions by switching to support the PM to try and get some kind of Brexit, Johnson thought he would be PM in a few weeks. Instead the vote was lost.
The DUP have now said that if the price of Brexit is to destroy the Union of the United Kingdom, then maybe we should just stay.
Well.
And one with no clear answer.
It is said that May wants to bring MV4, thus giving MPs a third chance to change their mind. The electorate have been given no such luxury, lest they vote the wrong way.
To call this a farce would be giving farces a bad name, this is now a national embarrassment, as May as PM has no idea what to do, except the same thing as she has done for the last three years.
Meanwhile, the rest of the world looks on thinking, quite correctly, that we have lost our collective mind.
Monday sees the Commons in charge of the orders papers, and there will be another round of indicative votes, which may or may not come up with a popular plan B, that the first one eliminated "Norway plus" and no deal means that things are moving forward. More movement than in three years of Brexiteer controlled chaos.
To call Johnson a tinpot Churchill would be rude to tinpots.
He and JRM compomised their already compromised positions by switching to support the PM to try and get some kind of Brexit, Johnson thought he would be PM in a few weeks. Instead the vote was lost.
The DUP have now said that if the price of Brexit is to destroy the Union of the United Kingdom, then maybe we should just stay.
Well.
Friday, 29 March 2019
Thursday 28th March 2019
Back home.
But due to work pressures, I was awake at four thinking about spreadsheets I had to create.
As you do.
The birds now start singing at ten to five, and soon dawn was creeping round the curtains.
But I was home.
And would have five full days home. Which was a rather pleasant thought.
We get up and prepare for the day, while outside, the sun clears the clouds and it looks like it is going to be a fine day. And then I have three day's mails to catch up, and all senders think their issues were the most important.
Of course.
And as I have a full day at work, my calendar decides I should spend the first four hours of it in meetings.
Meetings.
Some are important, though some know they're not, and apologise.
I have lunch at twelve, another serving of cheese toasties, the cheese toastie diet as Jools calls it. Who am I to argue.
At four, I go for a walk, just over the fields to Fleet House, just to see what is growing and looking good.
My back was grumbling, but anyway it was good to have the warm sun on my back.
In the end I did not go down to see the pigs, I stopped at the end of the lane, looked for butterflies and turned for home.
The shadows lengthened. I shut the shed door to protect the tender seedlings growing there, and feed the cats. At leat they're happy.
We have shoarma chicken for dinner, once Jools comes home. I have the last of the wine, and again I toast Jools and our life together.
No football to listen, just Marc Riley on the wireless.
I end the day, falling asleep laying in bed, reading. Scully has curled up to sleep at my side.
All is well.
But due to work pressures, I was awake at four thinking about spreadsheets I had to create.
As you do.
The birds now start singing at ten to five, and soon dawn was creeping round the curtains.
But I was home.And would have five full days home. Which was a rather pleasant thought.
We get up and prepare for the day, while outside, the sun clears the clouds and it looks like it is going to be a fine day. And then I have three day's mails to catch up, and all senders think their issues were the most important.
Of course.And as I have a full day at work, my calendar decides I should spend the first four hours of it in meetings.
Meetings.
Some are important, though some know they're not, and apologise.I have lunch at twelve, another serving of cheese toasties, the cheese toastie diet as Jools calls it. Who am I to argue.
At four, I go for a walk, just over the fields to Fleet House, just to see what is growing and looking good.My back was grumbling, but anyway it was good to have the warm sun on my back.
In the end I did not go down to see the pigs, I stopped at the end of the lane, looked for butterflies and turned for home.
The shadows lengthened. I shut the shed door to protect the tender seedlings growing there, and feed the cats. At leat they're happy.
We have shoarma chicken for dinner, once Jools comes home. I have the last of the wine, and again I toast Jools and our life together.
No football to listen, just Marc Riley on the wireless.
I end the day, falling asleep laying in bed, reading. Scully has curled up to sleep at my side.All is well.
Waiting for Brexit
Today, the Commons debated and then voted on MV3, to pass just the WA as it stands.
May lost by 58 votes.
She now plans a new vote next week. But I don't think the Speaker will allow her.
But, what does this mean?
May was trying, bit by bot, to remove any choices other than no deal or her deal. Had the Ayes carried it today, it would have ended any chance of elections or a people's vote.
Just her bad WA or the devastating no deal.
MPs saw through this, though for a time with the ERG spit badly, it seems she might carry the day. But Some Labour MPs who normally voted with the Government changed sides. And the DUP voted against, though Mogg and Johnson both contradicted what they said earlier in the week and voted for the deal.
Brexit is now going to happen on April 12th, unless something remarkable happens.
1. No deal.
2. Revoke A50.
3. Request a longer extension.
The Commons is back in charge of the order paper on Monday, so, let's see what that brings.
May is to address the nation this evening, most hacks are down the pub having heard way too many of her speeches.
May lost by 58 votes.
She now plans a new vote next week. But I don't think the Speaker will allow her.
But, what does this mean?
May was trying, bit by bot, to remove any choices other than no deal or her deal. Had the Ayes carried it today, it would have ended any chance of elections or a people's vote.
Just her bad WA or the devastating no deal.
MPs saw through this, though for a time with the ERG spit badly, it seems she might carry the day. But Some Labour MPs who normally voted with the Government changed sides. And the DUP voted against, though Mogg and Johnson both contradicted what they said earlier in the week and voted for the deal.
Brexit is now going to happen on April 12th, unless something remarkable happens.
1. No deal.
2. Revoke A50.
3. Request a longer extension.
The Commons is back in charge of the order paper on Monday, so, let's see what that brings.
May is to address the nation this evening, most hacks are down the pub having heard way too many of her speeches.
Thursday, 28 March 2019
(not) Brexit day
Today, at 23:00 hrs, the UK was due to leave the EU and enter into a 21 month long TA.
That has now been delayed at least by two weeks to April 12, maybe longer to May 22nd if MV3 passes today, or even longer if it does't.
No one knows.
This morning, the papers are full of banner headlines demanding that MPs vote for the WA and stop boring the country with Brexit and respect the referendum.
Respecting the referendum after the illegality that took place during it is now like saying we should still honour Lance Armstrong's Tour de France wins, as he was first over the line. Respect the result.
Well, over spending, sharing data, target fake news stories, and the simple fact that Brexit would be a disaster for the country, for almost every one of us, means that the fight goes on.
And if the UK does leave, then we begin the fight to rejoin.
MPs are part of our representative democracy, they see the bigger picture. We vote for them every 5 years, and they go to Parliament to represent our interests. If they believe are interests are served by something different to the public's opinion, then they should stick to what they think, and what facts and economic forecasts say.
People might be bored of Brexit, but it is not going to stop.
Westminster is doing little else other than Brexit. Justice is falling apart, transport is in chaos, there is a shortage of police, schools cannot afford to be open 5 full days a week in places, there's not enough housing. All ignored and put on the funeral pyre of Brexit.
Trade deals, negotiations, over 70 of them, simultaneously, to be negotiated by Liam Fox. That should scare us.
Should scare the media, but instead they cheer the Brexiteers on.
Today was never going to be independence day, it was going to be a day for mourning. It probably still will happen, the UK will be no more prepared for it than now.
We will all be poorer, less free, healthcare will no longer be free, however. And that wasn't on the side of a bus.
I will have, "told you so" tattooed on my forehead.
That has now been delayed at least by two weeks to April 12, maybe longer to May 22nd if MV3 passes today, or even longer if it does't.
No one knows.
This morning, the papers are full of banner headlines demanding that MPs vote for the WA and stop boring the country with Brexit and respect the referendum.
Respecting the referendum after the illegality that took place during it is now like saying we should still honour Lance Armstrong's Tour de France wins, as he was first over the line. Respect the result.
Well, over spending, sharing data, target fake news stories, and the simple fact that Brexit would be a disaster for the country, for almost every one of us, means that the fight goes on.
And if the UK does leave, then we begin the fight to rejoin.
MPs are part of our representative democracy, they see the bigger picture. We vote for them every 5 years, and they go to Parliament to represent our interests. If they believe are interests are served by something different to the public's opinion, then they should stick to what they think, and what facts and economic forecasts say.
People might be bored of Brexit, but it is not going to stop.
Westminster is doing little else other than Brexit. Justice is falling apart, transport is in chaos, there is a shortage of police, schools cannot afford to be open 5 full days a week in places, there's not enough housing. All ignored and put on the funeral pyre of Brexit.
Trade deals, negotiations, over 70 of them, simultaneously, to be negotiated by Liam Fox. That should scare us.
Should scare the media, but instead they cheer the Brexiteers on.
Today was never going to be independence day, it was going to be a day for mourning. It probably still will happen, the UK will be no more prepared for it than now.
We will all be poorer, less free, healthcare will no longer be free, however. And that wasn't on the side of a bus.
I will have, "told you so" tattooed on my forehead.
Wednesday 27th March 2019
And so my time here in the Guided Palace of Opulence is drawing to an end, but I would be heading back to Jools and the cats later in the day.
As it was my last day, I have to pack and check out, but a promise I made to myself was to sample their fry up once before I go.
I sit at my favourite table. and order said breakfast, sans tomato. It arrives with a sausage, two rashes of smoked back bacon, field mushroom, friend bread and a poached egg. Not that big, but full of protein, so on the way to the office I don't pick up breakfast.
Instead I marvel at the cows on the heath, all pure white and all apparently bullocks.
Bullocks to you, too.
I am in charge for the day, I have to make sense of the map of the three sites, identify the blades to visit and make sure we set out in the right direction.
Work goes well, me inspect the five blades, meaning I was free to go home at two. I hoped to get on my way before the rush hour began.
It was another glorious day, driving up the m3 in the warm sunshine, listening to Radio 6, it was all rather pleasant.
Traffic was OK until, as expected, I got onto the M25, and soon we ground to a halt for nearly an hour. The music played on.
We get moving, and crawl along, past the M23 and nearly into Kent. I have to stop at Clackett Lane for a brew and some brunch. I say brunch, it was gone 5.
That done, the final push home, and into Kent the M20 is now half closed between Maidstone and Ashford, with the coast-bound carriageway now being turned into the longest lorry park in the world, the rest of us are squeezed into two lanes each way on the other side.
I reach home at half six, time to empty the car then return it to the docks, Jools brings me back home.
And relax.
Jools has taken Mulder to the vet as he has a lump. Turns out his sweet sister, Scully, bit hom and now he has an abscess. So, he is partly shaven, and the wound is drained, and he has the collar of shame on. Only, he doesn't know, gets out of the basket and walks backwards. In a circle.
Shouldn't be funny, but it. 5 minutes later he's still walking backwards, he also can't use the cat flap.
So, we take the plastic cone off, and he is much happier. And the wound is so far up his back he can't quite reach. So no risk of infection.
I have a toasted cheese sandwich and follow the events in the Commons on Twitter.
Is this what life has come to?
Anyway, good to be home, two days at work and then the weekend, and some interesting botanising coming up.
As it was my last day, I have to pack and check out, but a promise I made to myself was to sample their fry up once before I go.
I sit at my favourite table. and order said breakfast, sans tomato. It arrives with a sausage, two rashes of smoked back bacon, field mushroom, friend bread and a poached egg. Not that big, but full of protein, so on the way to the office I don't pick up breakfast.
Instead I marvel at the cows on the heath, all pure white and all apparently bullocks.
Bullocks to you, too.
I am in charge for the day, I have to make sense of the map of the three sites, identify the blades to visit and make sure we set out in the right direction.
Work goes well, me inspect the five blades, meaning I was free to go home at two. I hoped to get on my way before the rush hour began.
It was another glorious day, driving up the m3 in the warm sunshine, listening to Radio 6, it was all rather pleasant.
Traffic was OK until, as expected, I got onto the M25, and soon we ground to a halt for nearly an hour. The music played on.
We get moving, and crawl along, past the M23 and nearly into Kent. I have to stop at Clackett Lane for a brew and some brunch. I say brunch, it was gone 5. That done, the final push home, and into Kent the M20 is now half closed between Maidstone and Ashford, with the coast-bound carriageway now being turned into the longest lorry park in the world, the rest of us are squeezed into two lanes each way on the other side.
I reach home at half six, time to empty the car then return it to the docks, Jools brings me back home.And relax.
Jools has taken Mulder to the vet as he has a lump. Turns out his sweet sister, Scully, bit hom and now he has an abscess. So, he is partly shaven, and the wound is drained, and he has the collar of shame on. Only, he doesn't know, gets out of the basket and walks backwards. In a circle.
Shouldn't be funny, but it. 5 minutes later he's still walking backwards, he also can't use the cat flap.
So, we take the plastic cone off, and he is much happier. And the wound is so far up his back he can't quite reach. So no risk of infection.
I have a toasted cheese sandwich and follow the events in the Commons on Twitter.
Is this what life has come to?
Anyway, good to be home, two days at work and then the weekend, and some interesting botanising coming up.
What is Brexit
I ask this because I am sure for most people that they think Brexit was due to happen on the 29th March, tomorrow.
If what we mean is when will the UK leave the EU, or in technical terms, when do the Articles of the EU no longer apply to the UK, then that, or April 12th, or may 22nd might be right.
But the WA is intended to just mean, to all intents, the UK will remain in the EU for up to 21 months, maybe longer while the Political Declaration (PD) is made flesh.
But those 21 months will be filled with nothing but negotiating with the EU what our trading relationship with the EU. Only if the UK actually decides what it wants, of course. But Brexit will not stop on the date if an when the UK leaves the EU.
And then there will be endless trade meetings and councils util the UK actually rejoins the EU, which it will. We will be hearing about the EU forever.
Brexit will never stop.
And we will be negotiating as a potential partner that needs a trade deal, meaning we won't obtain an optimal outcome.
And, and this is important, if the UK leaves without a deal, which a possibility, the UK will have to negotiate something with the EU very quickly, and the opening prce from the EU will be respecting the GFA and honouring the financial settlement. And we will have to accept the EU's terms.
And yet the Brexiteers still don't see this. They think a FTA with the USA is just days away. It can be, but on the US's terms. Any fool can sign a trade deal, which is why Liam Fox is International Trade Minister. Liam Fox could not negotiate a beneficial trade deal for the UK as he doesn't know the first thing about trade deals.
Brexit will not end on April 12, nor on May 22nd.
You think you're red up now, wait until the trade negotiations start and still the UK, or the Conservative Party cannot decide what it wants.
So, May is going to bring back the MV, but has split it from the PD, which allows the Speaker to allow its 3rd life. But this means voting to leave without knowing what the aim is. I mean that worked out so will with the WA what could possibly go wrong?
The DUP will vote against it, most of the ERG will vote against it. There seems no chance of it passing.
If it does we leave the EU on May 22nd. If it fails, then we crash out on April 12th.
Brace, brace, brace.
If what we mean is when will the UK leave the EU, or in technical terms, when do the Articles of the EU no longer apply to the UK, then that, or April 12th, or may 22nd might be right.
But the WA is intended to just mean, to all intents, the UK will remain in the EU for up to 21 months, maybe longer while the Political Declaration (PD) is made flesh.
But those 21 months will be filled with nothing but negotiating with the EU what our trading relationship with the EU. Only if the UK actually decides what it wants, of course. But Brexit will not stop on the date if an when the UK leaves the EU.
And then there will be endless trade meetings and councils util the UK actually rejoins the EU, which it will. We will be hearing about the EU forever.
Brexit will never stop.
And we will be negotiating as a potential partner that needs a trade deal, meaning we won't obtain an optimal outcome.
And, and this is important, if the UK leaves without a deal, which a possibility, the UK will have to negotiate something with the EU very quickly, and the opening prce from the EU will be respecting the GFA and honouring the financial settlement. And we will have to accept the EU's terms.
And yet the Brexiteers still don't see this. They think a FTA with the USA is just days away. It can be, but on the US's terms. Any fool can sign a trade deal, which is why Liam Fox is International Trade Minister. Liam Fox could not negotiate a beneficial trade deal for the UK as he doesn't know the first thing about trade deals.
Brexit will not end on April 12, nor on May 22nd.
You think you're red up now, wait until the trade negotiations start and still the UK, or the Conservative Party cannot decide what it wants.
So, May is going to bring back the MV, but has split it from the PD, which allows the Speaker to allow its 3rd life. But this means voting to leave without knowing what the aim is. I mean that worked out so will with the WA what could possibly go wrong?
The DUP will vote against it, most of the ERG will vote against it. There seems no chance of it passing.
If it does we leave the EU on May 22nd. If it fails, then we crash out on April 12th.
Brace, brace, brace.
Wednesday, 27 March 2019
An end to the chaos?
Yesterday, the arch-Brexiteers JRM and Johnson, both switched sides and announced that they both would in fact support the PM in MV3 if the Speaker allows such a thing.
But the DUP decided they could not support the PM, this despite the PM having bunged them a billion quid a couple of years ago. You might not agree with the DUP, you might not like what they stand for, but they have a position and have stuck to it, in the face of huge pressure.
They decided the Union was more important that Brexit, or a hard Brexit, as the price being too high to pay.
This means the numbers just don't add up for the PM in MV3, without the DUP and the half of the ERG that did not switch sides.
The Brexit-ultras had one time to play their switching card, and had to get their timing right, and failed. Failed to even carry the whole of the ERG with them, so they are now a busted flush. We will have to see if JRM and Johnson go back to opposing, or if anyone really cares.
Later in the Commons, a Statutory Instrument (SI) was passed by a huge majority changing the exit date to match that which the EU offered the UK. Didn't stop people like Bill Cash trying to argue that May's request to extend A50 was illegal.
And later still, MPs had their indicative votes, and while nothing won, other options lost by smaller margins than others. Interestingly, 2nd referendum lost by only a handful, and revoke was the second least worst option.
No deal was the heaviest loser.
But deciding they don't want no deal doesn't in itself mean it won't happen, they have to decide on another course, so go back to the indicative votes on Monday.
In the meantime, May might try to bring about MV3, if the Speaker allows, but if it is clear she won't, and so won't resign.
Hope this makes sense.
But the DUP decided they could not support the PM, this despite the PM having bunged them a billion quid a couple of years ago. You might not agree with the DUP, you might not like what they stand for, but they have a position and have stuck to it, in the face of huge pressure.
They decided the Union was more important that Brexit, or a hard Brexit, as the price being too high to pay.
This means the numbers just don't add up for the PM in MV3, without the DUP and the half of the ERG that did not switch sides.
The Brexit-ultras had one time to play their switching card, and had to get their timing right, and failed. Failed to even carry the whole of the ERG with them, so they are now a busted flush. We will have to see if JRM and Johnson go back to opposing, or if anyone really cares.
Later in the Commons, a Statutory Instrument (SI) was passed by a huge majority changing the exit date to match that which the EU offered the UK. Didn't stop people like Bill Cash trying to argue that May's request to extend A50 was illegal.
And later still, MPs had their indicative votes, and while nothing won, other options lost by smaller margins than others. Interestingly, 2nd referendum lost by only a handful, and revoke was the second least worst option.
No deal was the heaviest loser.
But deciding they don't want no deal doesn't in itself mean it won't happen, they have to decide on another course, so go back to the indicative votes on Monday.
In the meantime, May might try to bring about MV3, if the Speaker allows, but if it is clear she won't, and so won't resign.
Hope this makes sense.
She says she'll go
In order to get more MPs, mainly the ERG and DUP, May tonight she would resign if the Commons votes her way if there is a MV3.
If The Speaker allows it.
If there are sufficient changes.
May will be gone before the end of May.
Probably.
So, MPs will be asked to change their minds, not because the WA is different, but to dispose of a political rival.
Brexit in a nutshell.
Johnson now says he will back the PM, this despite a front page splash in the Torygraph on Monday where he channelled his inner tinpot Churchill to compare he leading the country to Moses leading the Israelites.
Though Moses did lead them into the wilderness for 40 years.
Her successor will be elected by Tory MPs on the promise to undo whatever they voted in favour of to get rid of May.
This is fucking insanity.
Please make it stop.
If The Speaker allows it.
If there are sufficient changes.
May will be gone before the end of May.
Probably.
So, MPs will be asked to change their minds, not because the WA is different, but to dispose of a political rival.
Brexit in a nutshell.
Johnson now says he will back the PM, this despite a front page splash in the Torygraph on Monday where he channelled his inner tinpot Churchill to compare he leading the country to Moses leading the Israelites.
Though Moses did lead them into the wilderness for 40 years.
Her successor will be elected by Tory MPs on the promise to undo whatever they voted in favour of to get rid of May.
This is fucking insanity.
Please make it stop.
Tuesday 26th March 2019
There never is enough sleep, is there?
And now that the mornings are so light, the blackbirds outside the hotel window, and the crows in the tree opposite, are beginning their greetings to the new day before five in the New Forest.
I lay awake, more than enough time to just ponder what is to come.
I am down in the restaurant for seven, the only one in as usual, order my usual coffee and toast and watch another golden morning begin in the well-kept garden outside.
Another fine drive to the power station, more donkeys seen on the road into the village, I manage to avoid hitting them and am away over the moors to the coast.
I have 45 minutes in which to catch up on mails and tasks, before the others arrive and we go out to begin another hard day's inspecting.
As usual, I am outside the blade, so alternate between ready from the book and watching the blades being moved around. I really wish you could see what I see, two frames on wheels lift the 81m long blades up and move them around, each frame being controlled by remote. It's like ballet, but with jumbo wings.
We stop for coffee, and again for lunch, so by three we were done. I send more mails, and we finish for the day, with they heading back to Southampton, and me back to the New Forest.
The bright day had cleared and got warmer, so I dove through Beaulieu and out the other side, along a meandering road to Brokenhurst, through the narrow town centre to the heath beyond, where I spy a tree in a pool of water; reflections, I think. So I find a place to park, wander over to take many shots Just a shame I did not have my big cameras with me.
I get shots of the tree, and of ponies scattered over the heath in the late afternoon sunshine. It is like being on holiday.
I make my way back to the hotel, where I wander along the mere to witness the sunset and maybe take some shots.
Back to the hotel and enough time for a brew before going to Monty's for my last meal there: lamb, charred root vegetables and half a carafe of house red.
That hit the spot.
I am reading when a party of loud retired Americans come in and fill the room with banal conversation. I pay the bill and take my leave of them.
Back in my room I listen to some music, do some writing before my tired eyes have had enough, so I go to bed.
And now that the mornings are so light, the blackbirds outside the hotel window, and the crows in the tree opposite, are beginning their greetings to the new day before five in the New Forest.
I lay awake, more than enough time to just ponder what is to come.I am down in the restaurant for seven, the only one in as usual, order my usual coffee and toast and watch another golden morning begin in the well-kept garden outside.
Another fine drive to the power station, more donkeys seen on the road into the village, I manage to avoid hitting them and am away over the moors to the coast.I have 45 minutes in which to catch up on mails and tasks, before the others arrive and we go out to begin another hard day's inspecting.
As usual, I am outside the blade, so alternate between ready from the book and watching the blades being moved around. I really wish you could see what I see, two frames on wheels lift the 81m long blades up and move them around, each frame being controlled by remote. It's like ballet, but with jumbo wings.
We stop for coffee, and again for lunch, so by three we were done. I send more mails, and we finish for the day, with they heading back to Southampton, and me back to the New Forest.The bright day had cleared and got warmer, so I dove through Beaulieu and out the other side, along a meandering road to Brokenhurst, through the narrow town centre to the heath beyond, where I spy a tree in a pool of water; reflections, I think. So I find a place to park, wander over to take many shots Just a shame I did not have my big cameras with me.
I get shots of the tree, and of ponies scattered over the heath in the late afternoon sunshine. It is like being on holiday.
I make my way back to the hotel, where I wander along the mere to witness the sunset and maybe take some shots.
Back to the hotel and enough time for a brew before going to Monty's for my last meal there: lamb, charred root vegetables and half a carafe of house red.
That hit the spot.I am reading when a party of loud retired Americans come in and fill the room with banal conversation. I pay the bill and take my leave of them.
Back in my room I listen to some music, do some writing before my tired eyes have had enough, so I go to bed.
Lets look at the clapometer
Back in the 1970s, there was a TV talent shot, the forerunner of BGT, called Opportunity Knocks, where the volume of applause made each show's winner known. Today, the Commons will vote on eleven (11) different flavours of Brexit, and almost certainly will not result in a clear winner, but might eliminate some.
As I said yesterday, the most important thing is that only possible courses of action should be voted on, no unicorns, no cake, just things the EU might just accept. To vote for more unicorn cake will show MPs have learned nothing.
The Commons will also have to learn how to quickly count ballot papers, although they will only have 650 to count, each has eleven choices andeach MP can vote for as many or few as they like.
I expect challenges to the result.
Meanwhile more Brexiteers turn on each other, as some waver or like JRM say they would now support May's WA.
But then he changed his mind and said if the DUP voted for it, he would. They won't, so he won't.
Just closing and pointing out that two days before the original Brexit day, MPs still think there are 11 different Brexits, though Brexiteers say people knew what they were voting for.
As I said yesterday, the most important thing is that only possible courses of action should be voted on, no unicorns, no cake, just things the EU might just accept. To vote for more unicorn cake will show MPs have learned nothing.
The Commons will also have to learn how to quickly count ballot papers, although they will only have 650 to count, each has eleven choices andeach MP can vote for as many or few as they like.
I expect challenges to the result.
Meanwhile more Brexiteers turn on each other, as some waver or like JRM say they would now support May's WA.
But then he changed his mind and said if the DUP voted for it, he would. They won't, so he won't.
Just closing and pointing out that two days before the original Brexit day, MPs still think there are 11 different Brexits, though Brexiteers say people knew what they were voting for.
Tuesday, 26 March 2019
The last rites
Brexit is coming to an end.
We just don't what shape that will take.
Tomorrow, some 14 different votes will take place, the first step in finding out what, if anything, is acceptable.
This is the new reality.
The default is still no deal, but that has never felt so far away as it does tonight. Brexiteers are scrabbling trying to breath some life back into the project.
May is still the PM, but this is a battle between Government and Parliament, and the latter should win. It will still be framed as going against the will of the people, but some Brexiteers seem to know the game is up, JRM among them. With Love Leave trolling is blog post reminding him of the comments he made attacking May's WA.
Brexiteers turn on each other, the same way all fundamentalists do when their lies are found out.
The Government has responded to the online petition, saying they will ignore it. Thing is, in some constituencies, over 30% of voters signed it, could be very worrying for Tories in marginals. Just sayin.
We just don't what shape that will take.
Tomorrow, some 14 different votes will take place, the first step in finding out what, if anything, is acceptable.
This is the new reality.
The default is still no deal, but that has never felt so far away as it does tonight. Brexiteers are scrabbling trying to breath some life back into the project.
May is still the PM, but this is a battle between Government and Parliament, and the latter should win. It will still be framed as going against the will of the people, but some Brexiteers seem to know the game is up, JRM among them. With Love Leave trolling is blog post reminding him of the comments he made attacking May's WA.
Brexiteers turn on each other, the same way all fundamentalists do when their lies are found out.
The Government has responded to the online petition, saying they will ignore it. Thing is, in some constituencies, over 30% of voters signed it, could be very worrying for Tories in marginals. Just sayin.
Monday 25th March 2019
Monday morning, and I awake from slumbers in my goosedown bed with the sound of the dawn chorus outside my hotel room window. If I could be bothered, I could look out onto the main road through leaded windows. Or I could just stay in bed.
I put the radio on, and some time later, get up to have a shower and get ready for work.
I mean, it feels like a holiday, but isn't.
Really.
I go down for breakfast, have coffee, fruit and toast, before I go to the car and drive to the office. On the way out of the village, I pass a herd of a dozen or more donkeys making their way down to the mere for breakfast.
This is normal.
I stop off in Fawley, now spelled correctly, to get some lunch, then drive to the old power station, park at the gate and walk to the office. It was going to be a fine spring morning.
I catch up on mails, then the others begin to arrive, meaning that at nine we go to the first blade to do some inspeterising.
As I am on duty manning the entrance, and having spent the last week staring into space, I brought a book with me this time, and the time flies.
We stop for lunch, by which time it was downright warm, and then back out for some more inspecting until three, when notes are written and we go back to our hotels/homes.
I go back to the hotel to work, but end up venting my frustrations listening to the radio and editing pictures.
I should have gone out for a walk, but it is football night, England playing at eight, so I had arranged dinner for half six to be done when the game kicked off.
I have burger and a Coke. Not the most healthy, but I feel I had walked so much I deserved it.
And then to the football: England win 5-0 without getting out of 2nd gear, I watch while trying to follow the chaos in Westminster.
I put the radio on, and some time later, get up to have a shower and get ready for work.
I mean, it feels like a holiday, but isn't.
Really.
I go down for breakfast, have coffee, fruit and toast, before I go to the car and drive to the office. On the way out of the village, I pass a herd of a dozen or more donkeys making their way down to the mere for breakfast.This is normal.
I stop off in Fawley, now spelled correctly, to get some lunch, then drive to the old power station, park at the gate and walk to the office. It was going to be a fine spring morning.
I catch up on mails, then the others begin to arrive, meaning that at nine we go to the first blade to do some inspeterising.
As I am on duty manning the entrance, and having spent the last week staring into space, I brought a book with me this time, and the time flies.
We stop for lunch, by which time it was downright warm, and then back out for some more inspecting until three, when notes are written and we go back to our hotels/homes.
I go back to the hotel to work, but end up venting my frustrations listening to the radio and editing pictures.
I should have gone out for a walk, but it is football night, England playing at eight, so I had arranged dinner for half six to be done when the game kicked off.
I have burger and a Coke. Not the most healthy, but I feel I had walked so much I deserved it.
And then to the football: England win 5-0 without getting out of 2nd gear, I watch while trying to follow the chaos in Westminster.
Third strike and out
The penny has now dropped with those clever ERG types, that they may have missed the Brexit boat. They twice were able to vote for Brexit, and went the other way.
It is now possible that they might not get any Brexit at all.
HMS Brexit is now in serious trouble. Some Ministers are saying, in public, that revocation is better than no deal, if the WA cannot pass.
And now the ERG is split, split into those who see Brexit slipping through their fingers and escaping; so people like JRM how have to backtrack and say they back the PM and her WA despite it making UK a vassal state and so on, and the true Brexit believers.
With Bercow's ruling last week on blocking MV3, MPs see other possibilities now, not just a stark deal or no deal. Revocation is a possibility, where a week ago no one was talking about it.
The DUP is now talking of a long extension, but for what reason, more can kicking? There has to be a reason for the EU to allow it, if they think they could kill Brexit by denying an extension now, would they?
The only cloud on the horizon is that all communication between the UK and the EU is through the PM, and if she does not want to play ball now that Parliament is in control, then dumping her could take time and the country might slip into no deal by accident.
I hope those who read my words realise that the day when Brexit and reality would eventually meet would be something like this, are not surprised not that it has happened, but that it took this long.
A long way to go, but the landscape is changing. Fast.
It is now possible that they might not get any Brexit at all.
HMS Brexit is now in serious trouble. Some Ministers are saying, in public, that revocation is better than no deal, if the WA cannot pass.
And now the ERG is split, split into those who see Brexit slipping through their fingers and escaping; so people like JRM how have to backtrack and say they back the PM and her WA despite it making UK a vassal state and so on, and the true Brexit believers.
With Bercow's ruling last week on blocking MV3, MPs see other possibilities now, not just a stark deal or no deal. Revocation is a possibility, where a week ago no one was talking about it.
The DUP is now talking of a long extension, but for what reason, more can kicking? There has to be a reason for the EU to allow it, if they think they could kill Brexit by denying an extension now, would they?
The only cloud on the horizon is that all communication between the UK and the EU is through the PM, and if she does not want to play ball now that Parliament is in control, then dumping her could take time and the country might slip into no deal by accident.
I hope those who read my words realise that the day when Brexit and reality would eventually meet would be something like this, are not surprised not that it has happened, but that it took this long.
A long way to go, but the landscape is changing. Fast.
Monday, 25 March 2019
The grand wizards of Brexit
Turns out that when the usual suspects met May at Chequers over the weekend, the all male group on ex- and current ministers called themselves the "grand wizards". Just happens to be what the top officials in the Klu Klux Klan called themselves. It wasn't official, more of a joke said one of the not-at-all racist attendees.
And then, yesterday there was debate and votes.
You will read much about this this morning, how Brexit was stolen (my precious), well, MPs voted to take charge of the order book for one day, tomorrow, but despite repeatedly voting to say that no deal should be taken off the table, they failed to back a motion meaning they would take control of The Commons in a no deal scenario.
Makes no sense, then little does in Brexit Britain.
Tomorrow there are a series of Commons produced indicative votes, which it is hoped bring clarity. I suspect the opposite will happen.
And then, yesterday there was debate and votes.
You will read much about this this morning, how Brexit was stolen (my precious), well, MPs voted to take charge of the order book for one day, tomorrow, but despite repeatedly voting to say that no deal should be taken off the table, they failed to back a motion meaning they would take control of The Commons in a no deal scenario.
Makes no sense, then little does in Brexit Britain.
Tomorrow there are a series of Commons produced indicative votes, which it is hoped bring clarity. I suspect the opposite will happen.
Sunday 24th March 2019
The weekend, but another one cut short because I have to travel to be in place to start work at eight Monday morning.
There is a load of things to do, or things I want to do, before I leave in the afternoon.
Two of which are orchid related, the other to meet an old friend.
First up was a stop off at Samphire Hoe, famous for being made from spoil from the Channel Tunnel and for being home to the country's largest colony of Early Spiders. And it was for the spiders we were, or I, were going to see.
Down on the Hoe before eight, Jools set off down the sea wall, and I ambled down the track beside the railway, looking down for any sign of orchids.
I walked slowly, like I was marching at the funeral, and saw little sign of a single rosette, at a site where in a good year 25,000 spikes can be seen. It is cold and windy down there, but there should have been signs, especially as in Dorset the first flowering spike was seen last week.
I find three large rosettes, with spikes, in the coach park, but being between the visitor centre and the path, all were badly trodden.
Jools reported there were no spikes in the shadow of the cliff, so no need for me to wander there, so we decide to go to Folkestone to while away some time before meeting our friend.
We end up parking on Wear Bay, in the shadow of the Martello Tower, looking back towards Dover. It was still cool, but warming up all the time.
Come half nine, we texted Mary we were running early, so she would come and meet us at the top of the Old High Street.
We wait for Mary to arrive, then after warm greetings we go to a coffee shop to talk. We had not met for some three or so years, so good to catch up with our and her news. One coffee stretched to two, and we sat for over an hour just chatting before I realised time was slipping away.
So, we had to part but will meet again next time I need a hair cut, Jools and I walk back to the car, then take the road to the motorway, and then up Stone Street to Yocklett's.
But now it was downright warm, warm enough to go without coat, and it turned out we had the whole reserve to ourselves.
We parked in the usual place and walked to the lower meadow, amazed at how far most plants were advanced.
And in the air, dozens of butterflies wheeled; Brimstone, Comma, Peacock and a single Small Tortoiseshell. I even get shots of a Brimstone and Comma, so happy with that.
In the upper meadow, much to be seen, but no orchids in flower.
We sit in the warm sunshine and just take in the sights and smells of spring in the Kentish countryside, and it was good.
But time was slipping away, it was quarter to two, so we return to the car and drive back home, back along the A2 to home. I review my shots, then cook dinner before packing, and like that, at nearly 5, was time to leave.
I always seem to be coming or going.
I load the car up, program in the post code and set off, up the M20 now converted to be the longest lorry park in the world, 25 miles at 50mph, crawling along because people don't like to hear Polish on the bus.
Anyway.
The M25 was packed. I mean like a bank holiday packed, so the journey round took half an hour longer than usual, by which time darkness had fallen.
As I went south on the M3, traffic got lighter and lighter and going got easier and easier.
The last part of the trip was over moorland of the New Forest, taking care not to drive into a pony, donkey or deer.
I am at the hotel just before eight, just enough time to dump by bags in the room before going to the restaurant for a starter and cheeseboard before the kitchen closed.
Phew.
A heck of a day, ending up in the New Forest.
There is a load of things to do, or things I want to do, before I leave in the afternoon.
Two of which are orchid related, the other to meet an old friend.
First up was a stop off at Samphire Hoe, famous for being made from spoil from the Channel Tunnel and for being home to the country's largest colony of Early Spiders. And it was for the spiders we were, or I, were going to see.
Down on the Hoe before eight, Jools set off down the sea wall, and I ambled down the track beside the railway, looking down for any sign of orchids.I walked slowly, like I was marching at the funeral, and saw little sign of a single rosette, at a site where in a good year 25,000 spikes can be seen. It is cold and windy down there, but there should have been signs, especially as in Dorset the first flowering spike was seen last week.
I find three large rosettes, with spikes, in the coach park, but being between the visitor centre and the path, all were badly trodden.Jools reported there were no spikes in the shadow of the cliff, so no need for me to wander there, so we decide to go to Folkestone to while away some time before meeting our friend.
We end up parking on Wear Bay, in the shadow of the Martello Tower, looking back towards Dover. It was still cool, but warming up all the time.Come half nine, we texted Mary we were running early, so she would come and meet us at the top of the Old High Street.
We wait for Mary to arrive, then after warm greetings we go to a coffee shop to talk. We had not met for some three or so years, so good to catch up with our and her news. One coffee stretched to two, and we sat for over an hour just chatting before I realised time was slipping away.So, we had to part but will meet again next time I need a hair cut, Jools and I walk back to the car, then take the road to the motorway, and then up Stone Street to Yocklett's.
But now it was downright warm, warm enough to go without coat, and it turned out we had the whole reserve to ourselves.
We parked in the usual place and walked to the lower meadow, amazed at how far most plants were advanced.
And in the air, dozens of butterflies wheeled; Brimstone, Comma, Peacock and a single Small Tortoiseshell. I even get shots of a Brimstone and Comma, so happy with that.
In the upper meadow, much to be seen, but no orchids in flower. We sit in the warm sunshine and just take in the sights and smells of spring in the Kentish countryside, and it was good.
But time was slipping away, it was quarter to two, so we return to the car and drive back home, back along the A2 to home. I review my shots, then cook dinner before packing, and like that, at nearly 5, was time to leave.
I always seem to be coming or going.I load the car up, program in the post code and set off, up the M20 now converted to be the longest lorry park in the world, 25 miles at 50mph, crawling along because people don't like to hear Polish on the bus.
Anyway.
The M25 was packed. I mean like a bank holiday packed, so the journey round took half an hour longer than usual, by which time darkness had fallen.
As I went south on the M3, traffic got lighter and lighter and going got easier and easier.
The last part of the trip was over moorland of the New Forest, taking care not to drive into a pony, donkey or deer.
I am at the hotel just before eight, just enough time to dump by bags in the room before going to the restaurant for a starter and cheeseboard before the kitchen closed.
Phew.
A heck of a day, ending up in the New Forest.
No nearer clarity
It is quarter past three on Monday afternoon, and no one knows what is going on.
Still.
May wanted to bring back the MV tomorrow, but there is no point as it is no different as to how it was last week and anyway, it would still be defeated.
She is also thinking of bringing in the indicative votes, but may pull those if she cannot get the MV voted on.
Also, domestic legislation needs to be amended before Friday, otherwise under UK law the UK would have left the EU, when it hasn't.
So, no plan, no legislation, no support, no leadership. And the M20 is now closed coast-bound to allow for lorry parking that will not be needed for three weeks.
May to speak to the Commons at half past.....
Still.
May wanted to bring back the MV tomorrow, but there is no point as it is no different as to how it was last week and anyway, it would still be defeated.
She is also thinking of bringing in the indicative votes, but may pull those if she cannot get the MV voted on.
Also, domestic legislation needs to be amended before Friday, otherwise under UK law the UK would have left the EU, when it hasn't.
So, no plan, no legislation, no support, no leadership. And the M20 is now closed coast-bound to allow for lorry parking that will not be needed for three weeks.
May to speak to the Commons at half past.....
A gentle reminder
As time ticks away, the UK is no nearer knowing what Brexit is.
Because the WA is not Brexit. It is maybe 5% of what Brexit is.
The WA allows for things to stay the same into a Transistion Period, TA< when nothing will really change, trade, travel and so on will continue as before. Except for one important detail, the UK will effectively be part of the EU. The exception is that it will abide by all decisions of the EU relating to rules, standards and so on, but will not be a party in their decision making.
A rule taker.
Yes, JRM, we know what you think.
The WA is important, as through the backstop, it defines what relationship the UK or Britain will have with the EU, which kinda sets out the relationship.
But Brexiteers will not honour this, as they are not people of honour, their word is not their bond. They will renege on this as soon as it is signed, and legally the UK has left the EU and begin to fight these battles again.
Which is why it is even more important, and as the official Vote Leave campaign said would happen, the relationship would be agreed first.
Otherwise the cliff edge is just delayed until the end of 2020, and there would be no escape.
Because the WA is not Brexit. It is maybe 5% of what Brexit is.
The WA allows for things to stay the same into a Transistion Period, TA< when nothing will really change, trade, travel and so on will continue as before. Except for one important detail, the UK will effectively be part of the EU. The exception is that it will abide by all decisions of the EU relating to rules, standards and so on, but will not be a party in their decision making.
A rule taker.
Yes, JRM, we know what you think.
The WA is important, as through the backstop, it defines what relationship the UK or Britain will have with the EU, which kinda sets out the relationship.
But Brexiteers will not honour this, as they are not people of honour, their word is not their bond. They will renege on this as soon as it is signed, and legally the UK has left the EU and begin to fight these battles again.
Which is why it is even more important, and as the official Vote Leave campaign said would happen, the relationship would be agreed first.
Otherwise the cliff edge is just delayed until the end of 2020, and there would be no escape.
Sunday, 24 March 2019
And May survives
Turns out that the very people who should have been stabbing may in the back last night were the same ones rallying around her at Chequers this morning.
So crap, they can't even depose a shit PM properly.
She has a plan, going forward. Though she is not going to share it with anyone, let alone her ministers what the plan is, just an hour before the next Cabinet meeting. So, no time to prepare another assassination attempt.
This week is when things get really serious, as the UK has just three weeks to come up with a plan. Any plan, other than the current WA or no deal or no Brexit and one that doesn't involve holding EU elections in May.
Other than that, away you go.
One last point, DD who was, let us not forget, Brexit Minister for two years, asked if the UK failed to change the date on the domestic legislation would that means that Brexit happened anyway when it was supposed to?
David, let me say this as simply as I can. Brexit is a matter of international law, UK ask and obtained an extension. Brexit now might, or might not, happen on April 12th. If UK legislation is not changed to reflect that, just means most of our laws will become worthless, but I'm sure that's nothing to worry about.
So crap, they can't even depose a shit PM properly.
She has a plan, going forward. Though she is not going to share it with anyone, let alone her ministers what the plan is, just an hour before the next Cabinet meeting. So, no time to prepare another assassination attempt.
This week is when things get really serious, as the UK has just three weeks to come up with a plan. Any plan, other than the current WA or no deal or no Brexit and one that doesn't involve holding EU elections in May.
Other than that, away you go.
One last point, DD who was, let us not forget, Brexit Minister for two years, asked if the UK failed to change the date on the domestic legislation would that means that Brexit happened anyway when it was supposed to?
David, let me say this as simply as I can. Brexit is a matter of international law, UK ask and obtained an extension. Brexit now might, or might not, happen on April 12th. If UK legislation is not changed to reflect that, just means most of our laws will become worthless, but I'm sure that's nothing to worry about.
Saturday 23rd March 2019
Saturday
Jools had done shopping, so that chore was spared us, but I did have to pick up a hire car, ready for the big getaway on Sunday evening. So, after coffee, she dropped me off at the Eastern Docks, and I was given to keys to the Crosslander I had two weeks back.
I went back home to wait for Jools, parking the car in the only space on the street, as we now had two cars.
Once Jools was back, she told me I could go churchcrawling on me todd, as she had seeds to sow. So I packed the car, checked everything, and made my way onto the A2 as I had an appointment with a church.
Molash has been a tricky place to get into. I have tried three times at least on hertiage weekends, then a month ago, and despite making an appointment two weeks back, the doors still remained locked. But, I was assured this time it would be different.
I drove down the lane, hoping to see a car outside the church signalling someone was there. There was no car.
At ten I got out of the car and tried the door, as usual, the door moved but was locked.
I stood and waited in the road, watching birds in the yews, hoping they might be hawfinches. They were not.
I heard an engine, and thought it were a tractor or a truck, but a 4x4 came down the driveway of the mansion opposite, a woman got out and called.
Hey you, do you want something?
Me?
Yes, you were at the gates.
I am waiting for the church to be opened and was watching birds. I point to the tree where there were no birds.
OK then.
I walk back to the church, try the door once more. Once more for luck and it swung open.
I go back to the car to get my cameras, and then set about my task. And after the long wait, it was a little bit of an anti-climax, but the remaons of some interesting wall paintings, but too faded to make much out.
I leave a notation and a Moo card, and make good my escape.
Next up was a ten minute drive to Charing.
That's just Charing, not Charing Cross.
I was last here nine years ago, maybe more, and i took just five shots inside. This time it would be different.
I park on the street and walk past the village shop, the butchers before turning into Church Lane, past the impressive remains of the Archbishop's Palace, and onto the church beyond.
It was unlocked, always good, and the church was so impressive. Trying to work out how I took just four shots last time. I take over a hindred this time.
On the way back to the car I call in the butchers for a Cornish pasty, then drive back to Dover scattering flaky pastry all over the inside of the car.
Nice.
I go to visit my friend, Shane. He just turned 50, and had a appendicitis followed by a heart attack. I think he was hoping for slippers.
He has been out of hospital a week, and is getting better. But I go round as it seems wishing someone well on Faceache isn't enough. He is happy to see me, and we talk medical things and photography for half an hour. Which is nice. And he gave me a hug when I left.
I went home and Jools had planted a dozen seed trays with beautiful things. Or will be when they grow.
We celebrate with a brew and watch Gardner's World.
And that is it really, a cool cloudy gave ended with some clear skies as the past full moon rose, but after burning some cardboard, we go back inside to play uckers, and I wind handsomely.
Obviously. And that was your, or my, Saturday
Jools had done shopping, so that chore was spared us, but I did have to pick up a hire car, ready for the big getaway on Sunday evening. So, after coffee, she dropped me off at the Eastern Docks, and I was given to keys to the Crosslander I had two weeks back.
I went back home to wait for Jools, parking the car in the only space on the street, as we now had two cars.
Once Jools was back, she told me I could go churchcrawling on me todd, as she had seeds to sow. So I packed the car, checked everything, and made my way onto the A2 as I had an appointment with a church.
Molash has been a tricky place to get into. I have tried three times at least on hertiage weekends, then a month ago, and despite making an appointment two weeks back, the doors still remained locked. But, I was assured this time it would be different.
I drove down the lane, hoping to see a car outside the church signalling someone was there. There was no car.
At ten I got out of the car and tried the door, as usual, the door moved but was locked.
I stood and waited in the road, watching birds in the yews, hoping they might be hawfinches. They were not.
I heard an engine, and thought it were a tractor or a truck, but a 4x4 came down the driveway of the mansion opposite, a woman got out and called.
Hey you, do you want something?
Me?
Yes, you were at the gates.
I am waiting for the church to be opened and was watching birds. I point to the tree where there were no birds.
OK then.
I walk back to the church, try the door once more. Once more for luck and it swung open.
I go back to the car to get my cameras, and then set about my task. And after the long wait, it was a little bit of an anti-climax, but the remaons of some interesting wall paintings, but too faded to make much out.
I leave a notation and a Moo card, and make good my escape.
Next up was a ten minute drive to Charing.
That's just Charing, not Charing Cross.
I was last here nine years ago, maybe more, and i took just five shots inside. This time it would be different.
I park on the street and walk past the village shop, the butchers before turning into Church Lane, past the impressive remains of the Archbishop's Palace, and onto the church beyond.
It was unlocked, always good, and the church was so impressive. Trying to work out how I took just four shots last time. I take over a hindred this time.
On the way back to the car I call in the butchers for a Cornish pasty, then drive back to Dover scattering flaky pastry all over the inside of the car.
Nice.
I go to visit my friend, Shane. He just turned 50, and had a appendicitis followed by a heart attack. I think he was hoping for slippers.
He has been out of hospital a week, and is getting better. But I go round as it seems wishing someone well on Faceache isn't enough. He is happy to see me, and we talk medical things and photography for half an hour. Which is nice. And he gave me a hug when I left.
I went home and Jools had planted a dozen seed trays with beautiful things. Or will be when they grow.
We celebrate with a brew and watch Gardner's World.And that is it really, a cool cloudy gave ended with some clear skies as the past full moon rose, but after burning some cardboard, we go back inside to play uckers, and I wind handsomely.
Obviously. And that was your, or my, Saturday
Saturday, 23 March 2019
On the brink
The Conservatives are about to commit regicide.
May is to be replaced, perhaps today, with someone with the task of delivering brexit in the next few weeks.
There is no doubt that May is unfit for office, she should not really be left along with anything more powerful that round-ended paper scissors. Her speech this week in effect calling Parliament the enemy of the people three years after Jo Cox was murdered was just shocking, and will stand aside Chamberlain's peace in our time speech as being so ill-considered.
She even lost the trust of her whips this week, a sure sign the end had come. They had worked hard to try to unite the Party, and on the other side some Labour MPs were coming round to support the WA. But all that changed on Wednesday.
It doesn't really matter who is PM, as the same problems remain, too little time, too much distrust and clear party and dogmatic lines.
The march yesterday, and now near 5 million who signed the petition make over 10% of the population, numbers that the Brexiteers can only dream of mobilising. Because that march just did not just happen, it has been planned for months, events made it all the more important, as was likely too as the Brexit clock ran down. Meanwhile March for Leave ambled down the countryside in their dozens not hundreds of thousands. Seeing Nigel arriving each evening to down a pint or two with the marchers while behind a @bydonkeys van with a large LED screen reran some of his greatest lies.
The EU has run out of patience, the new PM, if there is one, and Parliament have to decide on a new course and agree in enough numbers to ensure there is no bad faith and a reversal by a subsequent administration on anything that is agreed.
I still think that the UK will leave without agreeing anything, as this requires no effort. It is the default position. Things could change, quickly, but too much change is needed, and that change is needed in people's beliefs, especially in the fundamental Brexiteers.
May is to be replaced, perhaps today, with someone with the task of delivering brexit in the next few weeks.
There is no doubt that May is unfit for office, she should not really be left along with anything more powerful that round-ended paper scissors. Her speech this week in effect calling Parliament the enemy of the people three years after Jo Cox was murdered was just shocking, and will stand aside Chamberlain's peace in our time speech as being so ill-considered.
She even lost the trust of her whips this week, a sure sign the end had come. They had worked hard to try to unite the Party, and on the other side some Labour MPs were coming round to support the WA. But all that changed on Wednesday.
It doesn't really matter who is PM, as the same problems remain, too little time, too much distrust and clear party and dogmatic lines.
The march yesterday, and now near 5 million who signed the petition make over 10% of the population, numbers that the Brexiteers can only dream of mobilising. Because that march just did not just happen, it has been planned for months, events made it all the more important, as was likely too as the Brexit clock ran down. Meanwhile March for Leave ambled down the countryside in their dozens not hundreds of thousands. Seeing Nigel arriving each evening to down a pint or two with the marchers while behind a @bydonkeys van with a large LED screen reran some of his greatest lies.
The EU has run out of patience, the new PM, if there is one, and Parliament have to decide on a new course and agree in enough numbers to ensure there is no bad faith and a reversal by a subsequent administration on anything that is agreed.
I still think that the UK will leave without agreeing anything, as this requires no effort. It is the default position. Things could change, quickly, but too much change is needed, and that change is needed in people's beliefs, especially in the fundamental Brexiteers.
Marching on together
At the start of this week, March for Brexit began, where a small group of people paid Nigel £50 each to participate. Through the week the march has been photographed, filmed as they walked, looking more like people walking tot he pub than a protest.
They are due to arrive in London on the 29th the celebrate Brexit Day.
Oh, about that....
Today, a march was organised in London to demand a 2nd referendum, although that now is mutating into a call to cancel Brexit.
No police figures in yet, but it seems over a million took part. The film is very impressive for sure.
These are the kind of numbers that Brexit supports can only dream of mobilising. And yet May will ignore this, but it shows to the rest of Europe and the world that we are not all narrow-minded Little Britons, we want to be a part of Europe, and are angry at the imminent removal of our rights.
Meanwhile the online petition passed four million this morning, and four and a half by dusk, making it the most subscribed Government petition on history.
Probably won't change anything either, but I know many people, including Jools, who have not done anything like this before, felt passionate enough to bother to sign.
Remember, there will be an inquiry into Brexit, and it will reveal the lies and apportion blame, and there will be more than enough to go round for all Brexiteers.
They are due to arrive in London on the 29th the celebrate Brexit Day.
Oh, about that....
Today, a march was organised in London to demand a 2nd referendum, although that now is mutating into a call to cancel Brexit.
No police figures in yet, but it seems over a million took part. The film is very impressive for sure.
These are the kind of numbers that Brexit supports can only dream of mobilising. And yet May will ignore this, but it shows to the rest of Europe and the world that we are not all narrow-minded Little Britons, we want to be a part of Europe, and are angry at the imminent removal of our rights.
Meanwhile the online petition passed four million this morning, and four and a half by dusk, making it the most subscribed Government petition on history.
Probably won't change anything either, but I know many people, including Jools, who have not done anything like this before, felt passionate enough to bother to sign.
Remember, there will be an inquiry into Brexit, and it will reveal the lies and apportion blame, and there will be more than enough to go round for all Brexiteers.
Friday 22nd March 2019
At last I was back home, but with a ton of things to do, I woke up at four, and my mind followed a nanosecond later. I tossed and turned for just over an hour when Jools got up.
So, there we were, making coffee at quarter past five in the morning.
I can tell you that blackbirds started singing at five past five, it is a glorious sound, a signal that the day is soon to begin and at least those are happy about it. I was happy about about it, what with it being Friday and all that.
Dawn was showing in the east, but being home meant that I could relax and see the day begin, and not start working until after half past seven.
As I have been travelling, that means travel expenses. And that means scanning receipts. And to scan receipts. And to scan receipts you need a scanner. And if you had a scanner, and a new laptop, you need drivers for the scanner.
And once you have the drivers installed and the computer says in a dialogue box, oh that scanner you mean, why didn't you say? So, for half an hour or so, I scanned away, labelled the files and e mailed them to my work account.
And then power up the work laptop, start Outlook, download the files from the e mail, create expense report, attach scans of receipts, and click "submit"
By then, I was ready to start work, deal with the overflowing inbox, scream at people, and so the day went on until three, when I could power it down, make a brew, and be relaxing watching a show on Irish Showbands when Jools returned home.
One of the joys of going away, even for work, is coming home and see what had grown in the time I had been away. Always wonderful to survey the beds and remark how much the fritillaries had shot up in four days.
It was the weekend.
We have a brew, tell each other that we were both tired, but we have made it to the weekend, which we would spend as little time as possible asleep, as it would be a shame to waste a minute of it.
I cook shoarma lamb, stir fry and egg noodles. No carbs, lots of protein.
For the evening, I watched the England game as Three Lions took on Czech Republic and romped to a 5-0 win without really playing that well.
Happy with that, though.
So, there we were, making coffee at quarter past five in the morning.
I can tell you that blackbirds started singing at five past five, it is a glorious sound, a signal that the day is soon to begin and at least those are happy about it. I was happy about about it, what with it being Friday and all that.
Dawn was showing in the east, but being home meant that I could relax and see the day begin, and not start working until after half past seven.As I have been travelling, that means travel expenses. And that means scanning receipts. And to scan receipts. And to scan receipts you need a scanner. And if you had a scanner, and a new laptop, you need drivers for the scanner.
And once you have the drivers installed and the computer says in a dialogue box, oh that scanner you mean, why didn't you say? So, for half an hour or so, I scanned away, labelled the files and e mailed them to my work account.
And then power up the work laptop, start Outlook, download the files from the e mail, create expense report, attach scans of receipts, and click "submit"
By then, I was ready to start work, deal with the overflowing inbox, scream at people, and so the day went on until three, when I could power it down, make a brew, and be relaxing watching a show on Irish Showbands when Jools returned home.One of the joys of going away, even for work, is coming home and see what had grown in the time I had been away. Always wonderful to survey the beds and remark how much the fritillaries had shot up in four days.
It was the weekend.We have a brew, tell each other that we were both tired, but we have made it to the weekend, which we would spend as little time as possible asleep, as it would be a shame to waste a minute of it.
I cook shoarma lamb, stir fry and egg noodles. No carbs, lots of protein.
For the evening, I watched the England game as Three Lions took on Czech Republic and romped to a 5-0 win without really playing that well.
Happy with that, though.
Friday, 22 March 2019
To be clear
Just to clarify, if the Commons votes positive in MV3 and then ratifies the WA, Brexit can be delayed until May 23rd.
Or if they don't, then A50 is extended only until April 12th for the UK, either through the PM or Parliament, to come up with a new plan.
The EU actually cares more about the citizens of the UK than the PM does, and changed their policy on the day to adapt to May's lack of movement or actual planning.
May has said there might not now be a MV3 even if the Speaker were to allow it, as it seems impossible that it will pass. And so she will go straight to a series of indicative votes, hoping a clear policy that has cross-party support can be found.
What is important is that any of those votes must only be for choices or policies that actually exist, and not just cakeism. Pushing policies that were impossible to deliver is what brought the country to this point, and carrying on will only lead to more chaos.
There are few actual choices: no deal, May's Deal or no Brexit. Or a longer delay, meaning EU elections in May, for an election or 2nd referendum.
Parliament has said no deal should not happen, May's deal has been voted down twice in record numbers, so that leaves very little choice. Of course, no deal is still the default, but the UK can revoke A50 up to the end of April 12th, or as long as it is a member of the EU, but if they do, it has to be a definitive withdrawal, and not just to be be revoked and resubmitted. Such a move would need overwhelming Parliamentary and national support if the EU were to take it seriously.
At some point, the UK will need to have a discussion with itself, either in Parliament, through a referendum or some other mechanism, as to where it goes from here. To do it as part of the EU would be hard enough, but to have this with the national crisis of a no deal Brexit would be very hard indeed.
No deal plans were leaked to the Guardian this week, and it is not pretty reading, with Government expecting every department to be overwhelmed by expected and unexpected crisis, and there being so many, departments would be expected to tackle them as Government would be swamped.
Although we get to have a pause now, as a nation we cannot waste these three extra weeks, if nothing has changed by the second week of April, there will be no more time, the EU will wash their hands of us.
Or if they don't, then A50 is extended only until April 12th for the UK, either through the PM or Parliament, to come up with a new plan.
The EU actually cares more about the citizens of the UK than the PM does, and changed their policy on the day to adapt to May's lack of movement or actual planning.
May has said there might not now be a MV3 even if the Speaker were to allow it, as it seems impossible that it will pass. And so she will go straight to a series of indicative votes, hoping a clear policy that has cross-party support can be found.
What is important is that any of those votes must only be for choices or policies that actually exist, and not just cakeism. Pushing policies that were impossible to deliver is what brought the country to this point, and carrying on will only lead to more chaos.
There are few actual choices: no deal, May's Deal or no Brexit. Or a longer delay, meaning EU elections in May, for an election or 2nd referendum.
Parliament has said no deal should not happen, May's deal has been voted down twice in record numbers, so that leaves very little choice. Of course, no deal is still the default, but the UK can revoke A50 up to the end of April 12th, or as long as it is a member of the EU, but if they do, it has to be a definitive withdrawal, and not just to be be revoked and resubmitted. Such a move would need overwhelming Parliamentary and national support if the EU were to take it seriously.
At some point, the UK will need to have a discussion with itself, either in Parliament, through a referendum or some other mechanism, as to where it goes from here. To do it as part of the EU would be hard enough, but to have this with the national crisis of a no deal Brexit would be very hard indeed.
No deal plans were leaked to the Guardian this week, and it is not pretty reading, with Government expecting every department to be overwhelmed by expected and unexpected crisis, and there being so many, departments would be expected to tackle them as Government would be swamped.
Although we get to have a pause now, as a nation we cannot waste these three extra weeks, if nothing has changed by the second week of April, there will be no more time, the EU will wash their hands of us.
A slight delay
Although not quite accurate, there is no delay, there has been an extension.
May went to Brussels to plead for an extension, but could not state what for, other than allow her time to have MV3.
What happens if that fails, they asked her.
There was silence.
The EU27 were only going to allow an extension until April 12, but when they heard May's lack of plan, they discussed and agreed an extension to the extension.
However, if MPs vote down the MV, then the UK has just until April 12 to come up with a new plan. Or any plan, really.
As it were.
It seemed May had decided no deal wasn't so bad after all, and was ready to press the nuclear button. The EU's hopes now rest on Parliament wrestling control.
But that is it for extensions. If it solves nothing, then the UK will leave the EU on the 22nd May. And if no EU elections are planned by mid-April, then revocation is off the table too, although there could be apolitical solution to that.
Interesting point is that international law has been changed in regard to the exit date, but UK domestic law hasn't, and unless it is, then although that will not mean the UK will leave the UK, but the European Communities Act of 1972 will be repealed by accident, meaning huge areas of domestic law will have no effect.
Brexiteers are not happy. Or some of them aren't, but it could mean no deal is closer. Or not. Who knows?
Certainly not May who has no plan B. She may off Parliament some indicative votes on alternatives, but if none of those have an overall majority, what then?
The chaos is set to continue, maybe with a new captain at the helm of HMS Brexit.
Who knows?
And all the time what is left of this country's once great reputation is sent up in more smoke.
May went to Brussels to plead for an extension, but could not state what for, other than allow her time to have MV3.
What happens if that fails, they asked her.
There was silence.
The EU27 were only going to allow an extension until April 12, but when they heard May's lack of plan, they discussed and agreed an extension to the extension.
However, if MPs vote down the MV, then the UK has just until April 12 to come up with a new plan. Or any plan, really.
As it were.
It seemed May had decided no deal wasn't so bad after all, and was ready to press the nuclear button. The EU's hopes now rest on Parliament wrestling control.
But that is it for extensions. If it solves nothing, then the UK will leave the EU on the 22nd May. And if no EU elections are planned by mid-April, then revocation is off the table too, although there could be apolitical solution to that.
Interesting point is that international law has been changed in regard to the exit date, but UK domestic law hasn't, and unless it is, then although that will not mean the UK will leave the UK, but the European Communities Act of 1972 will be repealed by accident, meaning huge areas of domestic law will have no effect.
Brexiteers are not happy. Or some of them aren't, but it could mean no deal is closer. Or not. Who knows?
Certainly not May who has no plan B. She may off Parliament some indicative votes on alternatives, but if none of those have an overall majority, what then?
The chaos is set to continue, maybe with a new captain at the helm of HMS Brexit.
Who knows?
And all the time what is left of this country's once great reputation is sent up in more smoke.
Thursday 22nd March 2019
Dateline: Billund.
I sleep well, even with aircraft warming their engines, but i am awake just after six, with more than enough time to shower, dress and pack.
It might be the last time I travel for thanks to Brexit, or it might not. We shall see.
I pay my bill and go for breakfast, having rolls and two coffees whilst an excited kid runs around, not knowing where to look next thanks to all the Lego-y goodness.
I drive the mile to the airport, park the car then walk to the terminal to drop my bag off and line up to go through security, and due to my perfect planning, there was no line, I just loaded my stuff in the tray and it got scanned and I was through.
Places to sit were of a premium, but as a budget flight going somewhere sunny was just boarding, there was suddenly lots of seats.
I wander to the gate with half an hour before the flight, take a seat and carry on reading the Danny Baker book. I don't see that a close colleague is on the flight, and fail to spot him even as I walk past him in his seat on the plane until he says "hello, Ian".
In a world of my own, as usual.
I read through the flight, except when my eyes drop closed, so I miss the endless carpet of cloud thousands of feet below the plane as we head back to Blighty.
Even England was hidden by clouds too, except Canvey Island, I could glimpse its gasometers through the clouds, and then was gone. We emerged from the clouds just as the plane crossed the river, skimming over the roofs of houses, a gentle bump and we were down.
We park at the far end of the terminal, which means walking down its entire length to immigration, my case was waiting the other side, but I find I had just missed the train to Stratford, and the eight minute wait meant I had an hour to wait at Stratford.
I wander round the shopping centre, looking for something to buy, but nothing grabs my fancy, so I sit in the concourse and read some more until it was time to go down to the platform.
The train is not full, but busy enough, so I sink into a seat and close my eyes as the trian pulls away and I am on my way back to Kent.
There was a surfeit of taxis at Priory, so I hail the first one to take me home, which it does, without indicating, except to pull over on Station Road. But I am home.
I give him a tip, you should use your indicators, mate, I say. No I don't, I give him a fiver and walk home where the two cats just carry on sleeping.
Sadly, I have meetings all afternoon, so after lunch I plug in, tune in and drop out. Three hours of people arguing is not the best way to spend the day. But it pays the bills.
And that is it for the day.
I unpack, then prepare chorizo hash , for one, then wait for Jools to come home before I cook her salmon.
We talk, eat drink and ben merry, then listen to the radio until nine, when we are both pooped, so go to bed. As you do.
I sleep well, even with aircraft warming their engines, but i am awake just after six, with more than enough time to shower, dress and pack.
It might be the last time I travel for thanks to Brexit, or it might not. We shall see.
I pay my bill and go for breakfast, having rolls and two coffees whilst an excited kid runs around, not knowing where to look next thanks to all the Lego-y goodness.
I drive the mile to the airport, park the car then walk to the terminal to drop my bag off and line up to go through security, and due to my perfect planning, there was no line, I just loaded my stuff in the tray and it got scanned and I was through.
Places to sit were of a premium, but as a budget flight going somewhere sunny was just boarding, there was suddenly lots of seats.
I wander to the gate with half an hour before the flight, take a seat and carry on reading the Danny Baker book. I don't see that a close colleague is on the flight, and fail to spot him even as I walk past him in his seat on the plane until he says "hello, Ian".
In a world of my own, as usual.I read through the flight, except when my eyes drop closed, so I miss the endless carpet of cloud thousands of feet below the plane as we head back to Blighty.
Even England was hidden by clouds too, except Canvey Island, I could glimpse its gasometers through the clouds, and then was gone. We emerged from the clouds just as the plane crossed the river, skimming over the roofs of houses, a gentle bump and we were down.
We park at the far end of the terminal, which means walking down its entire length to immigration, my case was waiting the other side, but I find I had just missed the train to Stratford, and the eight minute wait meant I had an hour to wait at Stratford.
I wander round the shopping centre, looking for something to buy, but nothing grabs my fancy, so I sit in the concourse and read some more until it was time to go down to the platform.
The train is not full, but busy enough, so I sink into a seat and close my eyes as the trian pulls away and I am on my way back to Kent.
There was a surfeit of taxis at Priory, so I hail the first one to take me home, which it does, without indicating, except to pull over on Station Road. But I am home.
I give him a tip, you should use your indicators, mate, I say. No I don't, I give him a fiver and walk home where the two cats just carry on sleeping.
Sadly, I have meetings all afternoon, so after lunch I plug in, tune in and drop out. Three hours of people arguing is not the best way to spend the day. But it pays the bills.
And that is it for the day.
I unpack, then prepare chorizo hash , for one, then wait for Jools to come home before I cook her salmon.
We talk, eat drink and ben merry, then listen to the radio until nine, when we are both pooped, so go to bed. As you do.
We are the three million
Early yesterday, I saw a link to an official petition regarding revocation of the A50, I clicked on the link and so was something like the 77 thousandth person to sign that seven month old petition.
As the day went on, not because of me, it went viral, at some point in the evening, two thousand people a minute were trying to sign it, the website crashed over an over again.
36 hours later, over three million have signed. It is all for nothing, probably, but it shows that this clusterfuck can generate huge emotions, including the heaviest traffic the Government site has ever seen.
"Leader of the House", Andrea Leadsome said that when it reaches 17.2 million, action might be taken. But it does show that while the Government has rounded up 52 percent to 100, and 48 down to zero, it will be hard to ignore those who voted in the petion and in the referendum to stay. Imagine the anger if Brexit is the disaster expected, imagine that anger with the background to a recession (or worse), mass unemployment, NHS privatisation, massive further cuts on social services and public spending. Imagine that anger.
In a sure sign the end of days are upon us, the CBI and TUC released a JOINT statement saying how alarmed they are regarding the national emergency emerging. When these two contrasting organisations come together, things really must be grim.
Next up, the actual delay to Brexit, but a further, possibly steeper cliff edge beckons. And in three weeks, the UK must make up its mind on the MV, the WA and Brexit itself.
Eeek.
As the day went on, not because of me, it went viral, at some point in the evening, two thousand people a minute were trying to sign it, the website crashed over an over again.
36 hours later, over three million have signed. It is all for nothing, probably, but it shows that this clusterfuck can generate huge emotions, including the heaviest traffic the Government site has ever seen.
"Leader of the House", Andrea Leadsome said that when it reaches 17.2 million, action might be taken. But it does show that while the Government has rounded up 52 percent to 100, and 48 down to zero, it will be hard to ignore those who voted in the petion and in the referendum to stay. Imagine the anger if Brexit is the disaster expected, imagine that anger with the background to a recession (or worse), mass unemployment, NHS privatisation, massive further cuts on social services and public spending. Imagine that anger.
In a sure sign the end of days are upon us, the CBI and TUC released a JOINT statement saying how alarmed they are regarding the national emergency emerging. When these two contrasting organisations come together, things really must be grim.
Next up, the actual delay to Brexit, but a further, possibly steeper cliff edge beckons. And in three weeks, the UK must make up its mind on the MV, the WA and Brexit itself.
Eeek.
Thursday, 21 March 2019
She's lost control
So, the EU have offered May an extension.
Instead of June 30th, they have offered May 22nd, the day before EU elections are due to start, meaning that if Brexit were to be delayed beyond that then EU elections would have to be held, and legislation for those will have to be voted through the house from early April.
So, the reality of the delay is a few weeks.
And that is only of the MV3 passes, if it is allowed to happen.
May's speech blaming everyone else but her went down like a lead balloon, and meant that Labour MPs who were wavering to support the WA, now have reverted to opposing.
May has lost what little control she had of Brexit, and this is now what Brexit will look like, being offered something and the country either accepts it or not. Take it or leave it. Hobson's Brexit.
So, MPs will look at the lie of the land and decide if they want to take control of the process, and instruct the PM to act in a different way. Rhetoric is being ramped up on that Parliament gave away it's sovereignty to the people when it passed the legislation for the referendum. This despite the fact the legislation clearly stating that the referendum was advisory only, and Parliament was not beholden to act upon the result if they thought it dumb.
But let's let facts get in the way, eh?
And a reminder that this is just the first 5% of Brexit, the majority of it, the trade deal, the future relationship, has yet to be started to be discussed, and cannot start until the UK leaves the EU. And the UK does not know what that relationship will be. Brexit will be the only news in twon for 22 more months, at least, and the weariness has only just begun.
Most people are fed up, but can you imagine if people are jaded, poorer, unemployed and have no access to health care.
Imagine how angry they will be then!
Instead of June 30th, they have offered May 22nd, the day before EU elections are due to start, meaning that if Brexit were to be delayed beyond that then EU elections would have to be held, and legislation for those will have to be voted through the house from early April.
So, the reality of the delay is a few weeks.
And that is only of the MV3 passes, if it is allowed to happen.
May's speech blaming everyone else but her went down like a lead balloon, and meant that Labour MPs who were wavering to support the WA, now have reverted to opposing.
May has lost what little control she had of Brexit, and this is now what Brexit will look like, being offered something and the country either accepts it or not. Take it or leave it. Hobson's Brexit.
So, MPs will look at the lie of the land and decide if they want to take control of the process, and instruct the PM to act in a different way. Rhetoric is being ramped up on that Parliament gave away it's sovereignty to the people when it passed the legislation for the referendum. This despite the fact the legislation clearly stating that the referendum was advisory only, and Parliament was not beholden to act upon the result if they thought it dumb.
But let's let facts get in the way, eh?
And a reminder that this is just the first 5% of Brexit, the majority of it, the trade deal, the future relationship, has yet to be started to be discussed, and cannot start until the UK leaves the EU. And the UK does not know what that relationship will be. Brexit will be the only news in twon for 22 more months, at least, and the weariness has only just begun.
Most people are fed up, but can you imagine if people are jaded, poorer, unemployed and have no access to health care.
Imagine how angry they will be then!
Wednesday 20th March 2019
Again, it is 36 hours since the events I am describing, and already I have to think hard about yesterday. But it's all coming back to me now.
I woke up at six fifteen in my room in Odense, traffic was jumping outside, and people queuing for buses a few yards away.
I lay in bed, then get up to get ready for the day, at least I did not have to be at the factory until nine, but last time I drove to the nacelle factory, I got lost and a 15 minute trip took 35 minutes, as I got stuck in an endless on way system.
I pay my bill, have a quick breakfast, then get the car out of the car park, driving across the main road, through some housing, all the time following the sat nav. But soon I recognise shops and fuel stations, so I press on and arrive at the factory some 45 minutes early.
And then the phone goes: are you in Lindo? I have just arrived. Well, can you answer a question?
Be there in 5 minutes.
So, my half an hour of quiet contemplation was ruined, I walk in the drizzle to the offices, and already there is the client, who want to engage me in questions, then the guy who called came, and I went into an empty office with him as we talked through the problem.
And back outside to meet the inspectors, and into the meeting room, which I have to give the opening address.
And away we go.
There is the tour of the factory, and my back is already sore, and just gets worse.
So bad that when we go to the storage area, a car is arranged, and I can't even climb up into the nacelles, so I stand outside while the rest go up and do some inspecting.
I was getting cold, it was raining, my back ached. I felt more and more miserable. And then I spotted something yellow on the ground.
I realised it was a coltsfoot. I saw another, and another. Dozens in fact. Their wonderful yellow faces make me smile. Growing from among the granite chips, the leafless stalks each capped with a little sun.
Made me smile.
Big time.
We are done by lunchtime, we have lunch and people leave, just like that, all over.
I make some calls then walk back to the car half a mile away for the 90 minute drive to the airport and my hotel at the Hotel Legoland. Again.
Not much to report of the trip, still sunny and pleasant.
I arrive at the hotel just after three, I check in and go to my room, but I saw they are buidling a lego calstle hotel at the end of the road I decide to go out and snap it.
But my back has had enough, I can barely get there, and bend over in pain before walking back.
I do work until seven when I go down for dinner and have burger, fries and a beer. I decided I deserved it. And it was good. I mean really good.
I don't eat the lower half of the bin or some of the fries, but I did feel bad.
And that is it, back home in the morning. I go to sleep with the sound of jets taking off from the airport next a mile away.
I woke up at six fifteen in my room in Odense, traffic was jumping outside, and people queuing for buses a few yards away.
I lay in bed, then get up to get ready for the day, at least I did not have to be at the factory until nine, but last time I drove to the nacelle factory, I got lost and a 15 minute trip took 35 minutes, as I got stuck in an endless on way system.I pay my bill, have a quick breakfast, then get the car out of the car park, driving across the main road, through some housing, all the time following the sat nav. But soon I recognise shops and fuel stations, so I press on and arrive at the factory some 45 minutes early.
And then the phone goes: are you in Lindo? I have just arrived. Well, can you answer a question?
Be there in 5 minutes.
So, my half an hour of quiet contemplation was ruined, I walk in the drizzle to the offices, and already there is the client, who want to engage me in questions, then the guy who called came, and I went into an empty office with him as we talked through the problem.
And back outside to meet the inspectors, and into the meeting room, which I have to give the opening address.
And away we go.
There is the tour of the factory, and my back is already sore, and just gets worse.
So bad that when we go to the storage area, a car is arranged, and I can't even climb up into the nacelles, so I stand outside while the rest go up and do some inspecting.
I was getting cold, it was raining, my back ached. I felt more and more miserable. And then I spotted something yellow on the ground.
I realised it was a coltsfoot. I saw another, and another. Dozens in fact. Their wonderful yellow faces make me smile. Growing from among the granite chips, the leafless stalks each capped with a little sun.Made me smile.
Big time.
We are done by lunchtime, we have lunch and people leave, just like that, all over.
I make some calls then walk back to the car half a mile away for the 90 minute drive to the airport and my hotel at the Hotel Legoland. Again.
Not much to report of the trip, still sunny and pleasant.
I arrive at the hotel just after three, I check in and go to my room, but I saw they are buidling a lego calstle hotel at the end of the road I decide to go out and snap it.
But my back has had enough, I can barely get there, and bend over in pain before walking back.
I do work until seven when I go down for dinner and have burger, fries and a beer. I decided I deserved it. And it was good. I mean really good.
I don't eat the lower half of the bin or some of the fries, but I did feel bad.
And that is it, back home in the morning. I go to sleep with the sound of jets taking off from the airport next a mile away.
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