Today, a position paper was leaked which the Government is going to release tomorrow, saying that Britain is aiming for a transition period lasting as long as it takes. Those of you still with me will maybe not be surprised, as this is the reality of the situation. The 62 Brexiteers will be none too pleased, but then if they vote any deal down that does not give them what they think they want, it will broing May and her Government down, and an election, with the possibility of a Corbyn PM.
The fearless free press have been slinging mud at the Labour leader dragging up a long discredited story about him being a Czech spy in the cold war. There is no evidence for this, the Czech and East German archives offer no proof, and the single source of the story, among other things, claimed to have organised Live Aid. So can’t really be trusted.
That the Sun broke the story, then joined in by the usual suspects, Mail, Express and Torygraph, shows how rattled they are at a Labour Government reversing Brexit. I say that with the usual proviso, that although they do not have a position, they could switch to one if there is an election.
This comes as the latest sector to publish Brexit warnings was aviation, with the reality that with Brexit all arrangements allowing UK based airlines to operate in Europe, other than originating from a UK airport, and the same with the US too. Without a proven inspection regime, the US might just refuse to allow any UK flights to cross into their airspace.
Tomorrow is the big day, the big policy announcement from May, and expect chaos. I mean even more chaos than usual. We are getting near the endgame now, common sense would be to pause of halt Brexit, but the headbangers and press are screaming “the will of the people”.
Friday, 23 February 2018
Monday 19th February 2018
For some reason I slept very poorly Sunday night, being awake an hour before the alarm went off at half four, and what sleep I had grabbed up to that point was fractured. I felt like shit.
But, not shit enough not to call the trip off, worse case I could miss going to the office and go straight to the hotel once in DK. But for now, I just have to get up, have coffee, get dressed and be ready to leave.
In an hour.
This I manage, Jools taking me down to Martin Mill in the steady drizzle that had replaced the clear skies of the last three days. At the station, once I had bought a ticket, I wait in the dry until the train was due, seeing it approach from around the bend as its headlights reflected of the wet tracks. I have to sit on the other side of the train, which upset my OCD as I like to sit on the same side, but hey. I might see something new.
At least I have a seat, those getting on at Ashford and Stratford have to fight for the few remaining empty ones. But as it is now getting light, I can look at the passing countryside emerging from the gloom outside the train
I have breakfast as usual, and while I eat, I get a message that the flight is delayed. From the car hire people. This is confirmed by a colleague who has had an update from BA that we might be flying at half eleven. We are to go to the airport as normal.
What we don’t know is if the delays affect everyone and whether the airport will be in chaos when I get there, or will be as normal.
So I sit on the DLR looking out the window, looking at people and their shoes. As you do.
And at the airport, I get my boarding pass and find it quieter than normal, at least for BA passengers, no queue, so I leave my case and go through security and find a place to sit to wait for Tracie to arrive, when she does I join her in the restaurant for a coffee while she feats on poached eggs on toast.
Later, Big Jesper joins us too, sitting at the gate as we wait for the plane to arrive. We see it touch down through the drizzle and taxi over to the gate. Only about an hour late.
Once on board I force myself to stay awake, reading a magazine and taking breakfast which was now lunch but still rolls and cheese.
It is cold in Denmark, you won’t be surprised to hear. And when I tell the guys in the car hire office how warm it was at home over the weekend, they really don’t believe me. But delight in telling me of a cold front heading to Denmark over the weekend with temperatures down to minus 10.
Jesper, Tracie and I are given a 520 each, as we are going to travel home on different days. So we drive out of the car park in convoy, all in identical Beamers. As you do, And as it would be half three by the time we got to Aarhus, we all decide to give the office a miss and go straight to the hotel.
The drive is as it always is, except now with roadworks as the four lane road is going to be made into a six laner, with roadworks for the next two years or so. I drive at, or just above the speed limit and have a great time, my inner child is very happy.
At the hotel, I decide to stretch my legs, so go down to the fitness centre to do a half hour or so, listening to Brendan Benson and singing along as I work out.
And after showering, I could have gone for a wander find a little place to eat, but its too easy to eat in the hotel, have a beer and burger and fries as I finish WSC. But by this point, I am so tired. I call Jools, yawning all the time, and with there being no footy on TV, go to bed before nine.
But, not shit enough not to call the trip off, worse case I could miss going to the office and go straight to the hotel once in DK. But for now, I just have to get up, have coffee, get dressed and be ready to leave.
In an hour.
This I manage, Jools taking me down to Martin Mill in the steady drizzle that had replaced the clear skies of the last three days. At the station, once I had bought a ticket, I wait in the dry until the train was due, seeing it approach from around the bend as its headlights reflected of the wet tracks. I have to sit on the other side of the train, which upset my OCD as I like to sit on the same side, but hey. I might see something new.
At least I have a seat, those getting on at Ashford and Stratford have to fight for the few remaining empty ones. But as it is now getting light, I can look at the passing countryside emerging from the gloom outside the train
I have breakfast as usual, and while I eat, I get a message that the flight is delayed. From the car hire people. This is confirmed by a colleague who has had an update from BA that we might be flying at half eleven. We are to go to the airport as normal.
What we don’t know is if the delays affect everyone and whether the airport will be in chaos when I get there, or will be as normal.
So I sit on the DLR looking out the window, looking at people and their shoes. As you do.
And at the airport, I get my boarding pass and find it quieter than normal, at least for BA passengers, no queue, so I leave my case and go through security and find a place to sit to wait for Tracie to arrive, when she does I join her in the restaurant for a coffee while she feats on poached eggs on toast.
Later, Big Jesper joins us too, sitting at the gate as we wait for the plane to arrive. We see it touch down through the drizzle and taxi over to the gate. Only about an hour late.Once on board I force myself to stay awake, reading a magazine and taking breakfast which was now lunch but still rolls and cheese.
It is cold in Denmark, you won’t be surprised to hear. And when I tell the guys in the car hire office how warm it was at home over the weekend, they really don’t believe me. But delight in telling me of a cold front heading to Denmark over the weekend with temperatures down to minus 10.
Jesper, Tracie and I are given a 520 each, as we are going to travel home on different days. So we drive out of the car park in convoy, all in identical Beamers. As you do, And as it would be half three by the time we got to Aarhus, we all decide to give the office a miss and go straight to the hotel.
The drive is as it always is, except now with roadworks as the four lane road is going to be made into a six laner, with roadworks for the next two years or so. I drive at, or just above the speed limit and have a great time, my inner child is very happy.
At the hotel, I decide to stretch my legs, so go down to the fitness centre to do a half hour or so, listening to Brendan Benson and singing along as I work out.
And after showering, I could have gone for a wander find a little place to eat, but its too easy to eat in the hotel, have a beer and burger and fries as I finish WSC. But by this point, I am so tired. I call Jools, yawning all the time, and with there being no footy on TV, go to bed before nine.
On Ireland and Brexit
After four days of Brexiteers attacking the GFA, it having outlived its usefulness and so on, today, DD announced that the British Government was fully behind it and it was its policy to keep it in place.
Its funny, that when it became clear that the Irish Border, as it always would, define Brexit, it was Ireland and the GFA that would be wrong, not the perfect Brexit project.
Today, 60 MPs signed a letter from the ERG calling for many things, including full regulatory autonomy. Which is fine if you don’t want or need to trade with the EU. This would mean a hard border and just in time supply chains being unworkable. And as the EU said, nothing is more pressing that a dead fish in the back of a lorry, where every hour is vital. Frictionless trade comes at a price, and that price is being in the SM, CU and subject to the UCJ.
The timing of the letter is to put pressure on the cabinet as they stutter towards a final position on Brexit, let us not forget nearly ten and a half months into the A50 process.
If these 60 MPs were to vote against any deal the Government were to make with the EU, then ratification in Parliament is impossible, despite what the DUP were to do. In the end, having cake and eating it are impossible as promising every UK citizen their own unicorns.
Boris was still promising regulatory divergence today, and claiming that frictionless trade is possible. Quite how that would work within WTO rules, maybe on Boris knows. Boris Johnson, the tinpot Churchill.
Its funny, that when it became clear that the Irish Border, as it always would, define Brexit, it was Ireland and the GFA that would be wrong, not the perfect Brexit project.
Today, 60 MPs signed a letter from the ERG calling for many things, including full regulatory autonomy. Which is fine if you don’t want or need to trade with the EU. This would mean a hard border and just in time supply chains being unworkable. And as the EU said, nothing is more pressing that a dead fish in the back of a lorry, where every hour is vital. Frictionless trade comes at a price, and that price is being in the SM, CU and subject to the UCJ.
The timing of the letter is to put pressure on the cabinet as they stutter towards a final position on Brexit, let us not forget nearly ten and a half months into the A50 process.
If these 60 MPs were to vote against any deal the Government were to make with the EU, then ratification in Parliament is impossible, despite what the DUP were to do. In the end, having cake and eating it are impossible as promising every UK citizen their own unicorns.
Boris was still promising regulatory divergence today, and claiming that frictionless trade is possible. Quite how that would work within WTO rules, maybe on Boris knows. Boris Johnson, the tinpot Churchill.
Sunday 18th February 2018
Another glorious early spring day in the Garden of England. We thought it couldn’t be better than Saturday, but I think it was. Although, we had no churchcrawling planned. I could have, but there were chores to do.
We laid in until nearly eight, random cats came wandering round the bedroom, one suspects to check if we were alive.
But we did get up, have an emergency coffee, and go out to survey the work needed. The guys made a great job of the path, but their remit did not stretch to clearing up; so there was two piles of turf and a huge pile of top soil to be cleared from the grass.
It was frosty and chilly, but the sun was already up, noticeably now rising further east with each dawn as the year progresses.
We do the easy bit first, pick up the turf, lay it in the barrow and take it to the compost heap.
Come nine, we were hungry, so I go to grill bacon and make brews, the heat from the grill, coupled with the sunshine made it warm, nay hot, in the kitchen, making me turn the heating off lest I melt.
And once eaten, we go back out to clear the pile of topsoil, shovel it into tubs and transport those to the midden too. In an hour or so, it is done and so is my back. But there is still dead foliage to clear away from the beds, and it is done. Anyway, it is quite chilly once we stop and have a brew sitting on the patio.
At twelve, however, I stop work as there was a football match to listen to. Not a football match, but the football match; Norwich v Ipswich. The lustre has come off the fixture as both teams are in a bit of a slump, but saying that, if either teams put a run together, the play offs are a handful of points away.
Town dominate the first half, but don’t really trouble the Norwich goal. Second half roles are reversed, as City were on top, have two shots turned over, but looked like it was heading to a draw. But with a minute of normal time remaining, Town score.
Bugger.
All I can hear on the radio as the game slipped into injury time were the chants of their fans enjoying themselves. They had not beaten us since 2009, and nine games.
One last charge by City, and a cross is swing in, and Timm Klose heads it past their keeper. It was the 95th minute. Jools heard my shout of joy in the garden, with the back door closed.
A few seconds later and the game was over, honours shared and City unbeaten, Yay!
And then there was football on the telly; FA Cup, Rochdale v Spurs, and the game was excellent; Dal took the lead, then as they tired, Spurs scored twice and that was that. Until the last minute and a good cross was volleyed in to make it 2-2.
The crowd went wild.
The day was over by now, dark outside, so I make some potato bread to go with the insalata, which we wash down with a bottle of home made wine.
Time to catch another episode of Altered Carbon, and that was that. Weekend over.
Again.
We laid in until nearly eight, random cats came wandering round the bedroom, one suspects to check if we were alive.
But we did get up, have an emergency coffee, and go out to survey the work needed. The guys made a great job of the path, but their remit did not stretch to clearing up; so there was two piles of turf and a huge pile of top soil to be cleared from the grass.
It was frosty and chilly, but the sun was already up, noticeably now rising further east with each dawn as the year progresses.
We do the easy bit first, pick up the turf, lay it in the barrow and take it to the compost heap.Come nine, we were hungry, so I go to grill bacon and make brews, the heat from the grill, coupled with the sunshine made it warm, nay hot, in the kitchen, making me turn the heating off lest I melt.
And once eaten, we go back out to clear the pile of topsoil, shovel it into tubs and transport those to the midden too. In an hour or so, it is done and so is my back. But there is still dead foliage to clear away from the beds, and it is done. Anyway, it is quite chilly once we stop and have a brew sitting on the patio.
At twelve, however, I stop work as there was a football match to listen to. Not a football match, but the football match; Norwich v Ipswich. The lustre has come off the fixture as both teams are in a bit of a slump, but saying that, if either teams put a run together, the play offs are a handful of points away.
Town dominate the first half, but don’t really trouble the Norwich goal. Second half roles are reversed, as City were on top, have two shots turned over, but looked like it was heading to a draw. But with a minute of normal time remaining, Town score.
Bugger.
All I can hear on the radio as the game slipped into injury time were the chants of their fans enjoying themselves. They had not beaten us since 2009, and nine games.
One last charge by City, and a cross is swing in, and Timm Klose heads it past their keeper. It was the 95th minute. Jools heard my shout of joy in the garden, with the back door closed.
A few seconds later and the game was over, honours shared and City unbeaten, Yay!
And then there was football on the telly; FA Cup, Rochdale v Spurs, and the game was excellent; Dal took the lead, then as they tired, Spurs scored twice and that was that. Until the last minute and a good cross was volleyed in to make it 2-2.
The crowd went wild.
The day was over by now, dark outside, so I make some potato bread to go with the insalata, which we wash down with a bottle of home made wine.
Time to catch another episode of Altered Carbon, and that was that. Weekend over.
Again.
Red, no pink, no rose lines.
The PM gave a speech on Saturday to the EU, reaching out and making conciliatory noises about the benefits of close cooperation between countries, and added that if it suited Britain’s interests, then it would stay in EU organisations, and also have no trouble in abiding by UCJ rules and judgements. Quite a change from only last week when this was still a red line.
Many people have been trying to tackle this change in tone, as it it was earth-shattering. Only problem is that May and other Brexiteers say things, make policy statements without thinking through the consequences of what they said. And until what is said by May and the British Government is pinned down into a legal framework, then what was said yesterday could be the opposite tomorrow.
What we should read into this was that, as ever, although said to an audience of people from the EU, the target audience was the Brexiteers in her cabinet and party, and see what the reaction was to the change in tone. So, as ever, party politics trumps what is good for the country and its people, perish the thought.
Elsewhere, Brexiteers have been waging war on the Good Friday Agreement, the document that brought peace to Ireland for 20 years, saying it had had its day and wasn’t fit for purpose. Which came as a surprise to most people living in Ireland. Peace and prosperity in Ireland must be sacrificed to preserve the illusion of Brexit. Regular readers will know that how the thorny issue of the Irish border is, or isn’t, sorted, will define whether Brexit is hard or soft or is a no deal or whether Northern Ireland and the rest of the UK have strict regulatory alignment with the EU. Or not.
Not only dies the GFA guarantee peace in Northern Ireland it does the same for Ireland too.
The Irish border will make or break Brexit, and failure to put into law or break the promises made in the first phase of the agreement with the EU in December, will make Britain a pariah in Global trade where our word cannot be trusted. And as it ever was, non-EU countries are waiting to see what kind of relationship the UK has with the EU before deciding what kind they want with the UK.
Finally, the US said a trade deal would have to be dependant on Britain accepting food and goods that are currently banned by the EU and in Britain by our membership. There might be good reason why some food and goods are not allowed in from the US, and that this will be the cost of a trade deal with the US should surprise no one, least of all, those who read my witterings.
Many people have been trying to tackle this change in tone, as it it was earth-shattering. Only problem is that May and other Brexiteers say things, make policy statements without thinking through the consequences of what they said. And until what is said by May and the British Government is pinned down into a legal framework, then what was said yesterday could be the opposite tomorrow.
What we should read into this was that, as ever, although said to an audience of people from the EU, the target audience was the Brexiteers in her cabinet and party, and see what the reaction was to the change in tone. So, as ever, party politics trumps what is good for the country and its people, perish the thought.
Elsewhere, Brexiteers have been waging war on the Good Friday Agreement, the document that brought peace to Ireland for 20 years, saying it had had its day and wasn’t fit for purpose. Which came as a surprise to most people living in Ireland. Peace and prosperity in Ireland must be sacrificed to preserve the illusion of Brexit. Regular readers will know that how the thorny issue of the Irish border is, or isn’t, sorted, will define whether Brexit is hard or soft or is a no deal or whether Northern Ireland and the rest of the UK have strict regulatory alignment with the EU. Or not.
Not only dies the GFA guarantee peace in Northern Ireland it does the same for Ireland too.
The Irish border will make or break Brexit, and failure to put into law or break the promises made in the first phase of the agreement with the EU in December, will make Britain a pariah in Global trade where our word cannot be trusted. And as it ever was, non-EU countries are waiting to see what kind of relationship the UK has with the EU before deciding what kind they want with the UK.
Finally, the US said a trade deal would have to be dependant on Britain accepting food and goods that are currently banned by the EU and in Britain by our membership. There might be good reason why some food and goods are not allowed in from the US, and that this will be the cost of a trade deal with the US should surprise no one, least of all, those who read my witterings.
Sunday, 18 February 2018
Saturday 17th February 2018
Welcome to the weekend.
As Jools had done shopping, we had croissants and bacon in the house, no need to go shopping, so we could lay in bed snoozing. Or would have if our brains would let us. Mine was full of the possibilities of a day of churchcrawling. Heck, I had even made a list of targets, charged the camera batteries, formatted memory cards. I was all set.
We have croissants and a second coffee, this is because after my first coffee, I went up to the spare room to do another session on the cross trainer. We are both still at it, doing a session when we can. I have to say, the ip pods decision to play U2 for the workout brought repeated use of the skip button.
After breakfast, a shower, and we could go out. First up was a diversion to Preston to see the guys, to drop off some shoarma spice I bought for Mark, and while we were there, may as well have some lamb to shoarmaise that night for dinner.
It was a glorious day, the early morning frost gave way to clear blue skies and endless sunshine, which warmed the day until it got to double digits, and heck, could be almost described as warm.
From Preston we went north to the Thanet Way, and then along to Faversham before heading out into the boondocks to Doddington.
Doddington might be just a handful of miles from Faversham, but it seems remote; criss-crossed with narrow lanes, through fields and woods, up and down hills and downs. And all of it, in the warm golden glow of warm sunshine. Jools had been unsure about a day of churchcrawling, but I mean, who could not love being out and about in the Garden of England on a fine early spring morning?
Doddington sits in a lush valley, with the church up on the down among trees to the north. It is a 13th century building, largely untouched and "improved" by the Victorians. It has a freshly painted clapboard bellcots, and the nave and chancel are pretty much as was hundreds of years ago, but the walls lined with memorials to the local landed gentry.
It is a fine church, lots of interesting things to see or discover. It has the oldest image of St Francis in England, possibly painted by someone who was alive at the same time as the saint.
Even better is in the chuchyard, it has been turned "nature friendly", or at least she is encouraged. So, the grass was covered by a carpet of snowdrops, all looking wonderful in the bright sunshine, and mixed in were some Winter Aconites and a few Primroses already in flower too.
I also see a butterfly. I miss it at first, just a shadow flitting across my vision, but then it clicked: a BUTTERFLY! so I set off in chase, and it lands to feed on some snowdrops. It is flighty, but also hungry. I am hungry for shot, so I shoot at will. It is a female Red Admiral, looking in good nick.
On Friday I had followed the road out of the village out of the village, and found a series of churches, all apparently parish churches, and still in use. But, as we use the sat nav to find each church, I get the camera gear out, take the exterior shots, then go to the porch, try the door and all were locked. Damn and double damn.
One after the other we drive to, down narrow lanes that weaved through parkland of various once great country houses, to a small village scattered around a green, and a small lint church in the corner, only to find it locked. What made up for it at several of them was the snowdrops, aconites and other spring flowers, all looking amazing in the sunshine.
We had had enough, so began to look for a place for lunch. Village after lunch revealed pubs with overflowing car parks, with no spaces. We come to one in the end, in a small village in the fold of land in the down, the main road lead to a flint castle on the hill above, and down to Maidstone in the valley below. We took the last parking space and went inside, ordered ham sandwiches, which came with free cheese, chips and a side salad. We sat on milk churns at a table and make lunch and our drinks disappear.
And that was it, time to drive home, try to avoid the jams, listen to Huey on the radio, and generally enjoy the sunshine.
Norwich did not play until Sunday, more on that in the next post, bso once home I make coffee then sort through the shots, listen half-heartedly to the games on, FA Cup 5 round games, but it means far less now than it used to.
I make shoarma and chips for dinner, and we make that disappear too.
Jools had volunteered to sit with Betty whilst John and Jen went out to see a show, meaning I was home alone. She left at half seven, leaving me alone with Only Connect, the football highlights and a Bee Gees documentary, which was far more entertaining than it had the right to be. I also had all three cats, meaning I had to feed them when they demanded it, but they are all so marvelous, and Molly now looking like a healthy adult cat again, its hard to imagine that was has ever been anything different, let alone so recently.
As Jools had done shopping, we had croissants and bacon in the house, no need to go shopping, so we could lay in bed snoozing. Or would have if our brains would let us. Mine was full of the possibilities of a day of churchcrawling. Heck, I had even made a list of targets, charged the camera batteries, formatted memory cards. I was all set.
We have croissants and a second coffee, this is because after my first coffee, I went up to the spare room to do another session on the cross trainer. We are both still at it, doing a session when we can. I have to say, the ip pods decision to play U2 for the workout brought repeated use of the skip button.
After breakfast, a shower, and we could go out. First up was a diversion to Preston to see the guys, to drop off some shoarma spice I bought for Mark, and while we were there, may as well have some lamb to shoarmaise that night for dinner.
It was a glorious day, the early morning frost gave way to clear blue skies and endless sunshine, which warmed the day until it got to double digits, and heck, could be almost described as warm.
From Preston we went north to the Thanet Way, and then along to Faversham before heading out into the boondocks to Doddington.
Doddington might be just a handful of miles from Faversham, but it seems remote; criss-crossed with narrow lanes, through fields and woods, up and down hills and downs. And all of it, in the warm golden glow of warm sunshine. Jools had been unsure about a day of churchcrawling, but I mean, who could not love being out and about in the Garden of England on a fine early spring morning?
Doddington sits in a lush valley, with the church up on the down among trees to the north. It is a 13th century building, largely untouched and "improved" by the Victorians. It has a freshly painted clapboard bellcots, and the nave and chancel are pretty much as was hundreds of years ago, but the walls lined with memorials to the local landed gentry.
It is a fine church, lots of interesting things to see or discover. It has the oldest image of St Francis in England, possibly painted by someone who was alive at the same time as the saint. Even better is in the chuchyard, it has been turned "nature friendly", or at least she is encouraged. So, the grass was covered by a carpet of snowdrops, all looking wonderful in the bright sunshine, and mixed in were some Winter Aconites and a few Primroses already in flower too.
I also see a butterfly. I miss it at first, just a shadow flitting across my vision, but then it clicked: a BUTTERFLY! so I set off in chase, and it lands to feed on some snowdrops. It is flighty, but also hungry. I am hungry for shot, so I shoot at will. It is a female Red Admiral, looking in good nick.
On Friday I had followed the road out of the village out of the village, and found a series of churches, all apparently parish churches, and still in use. But, as we use the sat nav to find each church, I get the camera gear out, take the exterior shots, then go to the porch, try the door and all were locked. Damn and double damn.One after the other we drive to, down narrow lanes that weaved through parkland of various once great country houses, to a small village scattered around a green, and a small lint church in the corner, only to find it locked. What made up for it at several of them was the snowdrops, aconites and other spring flowers, all looking amazing in the sunshine.
We had had enough, so began to look for a place for lunch. Village after lunch revealed pubs with overflowing car parks, with no spaces. We come to one in the end, in a small village in the fold of land in the down, the main road lead to a flint castle on the hill above, and down to Maidstone in the valley below. We took the last parking space and went inside, ordered ham sandwiches, which came with free cheese, chips and a side salad. We sat on milk churns at a table and make lunch and our drinks disappear.
And that was it, time to drive home, try to avoid the jams, listen to Huey on the radio, and generally enjoy the sunshine.Norwich did not play until Sunday, more on that in the next post, bso once home I make coffee then sort through the shots, listen half-heartedly to the games on, FA Cup 5 round games, but it means far less now than it used to.
I make shoarma and chips for dinner, and we make that disappear too. Jools had volunteered to sit with Betty whilst John and Jen went out to see a show, meaning I was home alone. She left at half seven, leaving me alone with Only Connect, the football highlights and a Bee Gees documentary, which was far more entertaining than it had the right to be. I also had all three cats, meaning I had to feed them when they demanded it, but they are all so marvelous, and Molly now looking like a healthy adult cat again, its hard to imagine that was has ever been anything different, let alone so recently.
Saturday, 17 February 2018
Saturday Brexit
The PM spent Saturday in Germany, mansplaining to Europe how important a security deal would be for the EU to reach with the UK. Would all be very good, not playing politics with people's lives and all that, had May herslef not threatened to withdraw such cooperation in security in the early days of Brexit back in 2016.
So, security cooperation, another unintended or intended victim or consequence of Brexit.
I spent nearly an hour waiting at the Eastern Docks in Dover yesterday, watching traffic and truck in particular arriving. I am guessing there was about one every 5 seconds arriving. All with paperwork in order, just going to the right lane, checking in and then driving round to wait to board the ferry. Imagine if anything were to slow down, or complicate this process. If it takes 30 seconds to check each truck's paperwork, then probably will be OK. 2 minutes, then there will be problems. Ten minutes? 30 minutes? If the trucks at the front of the queue of Operation Stack are not processed quicker than those joining the back, the the queue will get longer and longer.
Trade bodies expect 20 mile queue to the normal without a deal, or in the event of Britain not being in the SM or CU. With the prospect of the queue getting ever longer.
Oh, deep joy. And if at the end of this, Britain were to be better off, stronger more together, then, fine. But the opposite will happen; poorer, weaker, less influential, bitter, shrunken.
Britain, through the Cabinet and PM, does not know what it wants from brexit, and time is running out. The clock has been running ten and a half months, and we are no further forward. The EU said the transition deal is not a given, in which case a no deal Brexit could be thirteen and a half months away; there is no infrastructure in place, no staff, no computer systems, no parking areas for truck. Nothing that a country about to crash out of the worlds largest free trade area, in the name of free trade, laughingly, would need to be able to trade, arrangel commercial flights, fight international crime or terrorism, obtain nuclear isotopes for medial research or cancer treatment. These and hundreds of other things all need to be in place, or fall back agreements in under 98000 hours.
That is the Brexit reality.
And the DUP caused the talks about restoring shared Governance in Northern Ireland to collapse this week. That's the DUP who are in a support deal for the PM and the Conservative Government, the only party to vote against the Good Friday Agreement, and now Tories openly saying that the GFA is dead int he water. What dangerous times we are living in, and the fact the Brexiteers failed to take into account the politics and needs of a part of the Union. And still don't see that the devolved Government or lack of it, is linked to Brexit and the border.
Ireland, the island, will make or break Brexit. And will break the careers of many Brexiteers. It needs to be settled before the next phase of talks can be concluded, and any time left talk about talks about trade.
So, security cooperation, another unintended or intended victim or consequence of Brexit.
I spent nearly an hour waiting at the Eastern Docks in Dover yesterday, watching traffic and truck in particular arriving. I am guessing there was about one every 5 seconds arriving. All with paperwork in order, just going to the right lane, checking in and then driving round to wait to board the ferry. Imagine if anything were to slow down, or complicate this process. If it takes 30 seconds to check each truck's paperwork, then probably will be OK. 2 minutes, then there will be problems. Ten minutes? 30 minutes? If the trucks at the front of the queue of Operation Stack are not processed quicker than those joining the back, the the queue will get longer and longer.
Trade bodies expect 20 mile queue to the normal without a deal, or in the event of Britain not being in the SM or CU. With the prospect of the queue getting ever longer.
Oh, deep joy. And if at the end of this, Britain were to be better off, stronger more together, then, fine. But the opposite will happen; poorer, weaker, less influential, bitter, shrunken.
Britain, through the Cabinet and PM, does not know what it wants from brexit, and time is running out. The clock has been running ten and a half months, and we are no further forward. The EU said the transition deal is not a given, in which case a no deal Brexit could be thirteen and a half months away; there is no infrastructure in place, no staff, no computer systems, no parking areas for truck. Nothing that a country about to crash out of the worlds largest free trade area, in the name of free trade, laughingly, would need to be able to trade, arrangel commercial flights, fight international crime or terrorism, obtain nuclear isotopes for medial research or cancer treatment. These and hundreds of other things all need to be in place, or fall back agreements in under 98000 hours.
That is the Brexit reality.
And the DUP caused the talks about restoring shared Governance in Northern Ireland to collapse this week. That's the DUP who are in a support deal for the PM and the Conservative Government, the only party to vote against the Good Friday Agreement, and now Tories openly saying that the GFA is dead int he water. What dangerous times we are living in, and the fact the Brexiteers failed to take into account the politics and needs of a part of the Union. And still don't see that the devolved Government or lack of it, is linked to Brexit and the border.
Ireland, the island, will make or break Brexit. And will break the careers of many Brexiteers. It needs to be settled before the next phase of talks can be concluded, and any time left talk about talks about trade.
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