Friday 13th December 2019

The country has decided. There is no doubt now, Brexit will happen and with all the consequences that might bring.

I am thinking of when, or if, to stop writing about Brexit. The obvious cut off point is the 31st December. But I think 2020 will be more fraught than 2019, but I could be wrong.

Does anyone read my words on Brexit? Would anyone miss them if they were gone?

As I wrote this morning, I woke up full of hope, hope that some kind of common sense had prevailed and the electorate had seen through the lies. But no, they lapped up the original lies and new ones on top of them. The scale of Labour's defeat quickly became clear, and many others could have been lost with many just having four figure majorities.

Life goes on.

At least for us. We both have jobs, our house, and might soon pay the mortgage off. We are lucky. Others not so. I write about Brexit, not for myself or my interests, but in others, future generations will be denied a different future. History will be harsh on my generation. And rightly so, but some of us saw the truth, had the sunglasses that revealed the lizards and slogans.

Reality cannot be denied or put off.

But life goes on.

Jools had Friday off, of course, so she was up before the larks, getting ready for her half six yoga class. Once she had gone, it would have been easy to hide behind my sore throat as an excuse not to do phys, but I went up, and did a session, which came easier than Wednesday's. I will continue.

And after breakfast of the last two slices of stale bread, I make toast and marmalade, eat that with a fresh brew whilst listening to the Remainiacs Podcast. Much more swearing than usual.

Oh well.

And to work, and I find out I have been let down by a colleague, so not happy about that.

But work goes on. Always.

I send the mail I have been preparing all weekend, tidy up more loose ends and by two, I am done.

Jools has since been back, had breakfast, gone out shopping, come back, put the shopping away, made filled rolls for dinner, and washed up.

I pack up and we load the car with more books and stuff so we can go to Oxfam in Deal to further add to their stock in the charity shop. Six bags of books, two bgs and a camera bag (I have a spare or two), all taken in and signed in.

Then back along The Strand to Walmer to The Berry to drop more Norwich pictures off with the landlord, Chris, who is a Norwich fan.

And as we're here, might as well have a beer: what you having?

Harvey's Old please.

And it was good.

Old Ale is a strong Mild, dark and nutty in flavour, only available in winter.

Its so good I have another pint. And a pack of mini cheddars.

Jools drives us home, its safer that way, where it is four in the afternoon, Steve Lamacq on the wireless meaning the weekend had begun.

I made a huge bowl of pork ragu for dinner, a bowl containing easily enough for us to both have for two more meals, using little more than three tins of tomatoes, two courgettes, three onions and some stock. And some sausage meat later.

And s we sit down to that smothered over some pasta and washed down with garlic bread and some Belgian beer.

As you do.

As it is nearly Christmas, we start to watch the BBC adaption of His Dark Materials, and very good it is too, though we just watch the first episode, as out rock and roll lifestyle had made us tired, so we were in bed at nine. Again.