The Brexit vote has knocked me for six. Like so many others amongst the 1.3 to 2 million living in Europe, I was not allowed to vote. Do I need to spell out what fears about our situation we have? Healthcare, the right to stay, income, relations with our hosts, and more. We hear scraps of reassurance from the Brexit gang, promises they can’t promise to keep because a big part of what happens to our rights will be in the hands of the partners they no longer want. I could swallow this if I thought that prospects for my family still in the UK would improve, but, seriously, how on earth will they? As the news of the loss of our triple A rating comes in, and the brexiteers renege on their promises, whitewash their website and redo their sums, the only consolation is that Brits do gallows humour pretty well. We have, in our long history, had lots of occasions to practise it.
I’d planned a long post, but it’s all been said. This is just howling at the stars.