BLACK FRIDAY

All my worst fears are realised.

The flag-waving, jingoistic tub-thumping pseudo-patriotic posturing of the Leave brigade has defeated common sense.

Gullible ill-informed and easily swayed the mass of the British public has voted us out of the EU.

What am I afraid of?

Everything.

Perhaps my greatest fear is that this is the thin end of the wedge which will allow fascism (never very far below the surface) to begin its slow creep into the British psyche.

This after all is the way Nazi Germany began to gain its hold over the reasonable fair-minded part of the population.

All economic considerations aside, and there are many, the insidious racist verbal attacks on sections of our society which have been so evident during this campaign are just the tip of the ice-berg.

Where do we go from here?.

Who knows, but I am praying hard.

Nocturnal Wittering

Where does sleep go when you need it?

Why, after a more than averagely tiring day is it impossible to rest and relax.?

Who decides when we will sleep and when we will remain wakeful and uneasy?

What perverse and contrary part of our own brain refuses to shut down despite the hour?

Knowing that the morning will be taxing and that the need for sufficient sleep is more important than usual, merely puts more pressure on the weary would-be sleeper.

Worrying about sleeplessness is absolutely pointless, as is deliberately attempting to relax, so, what to do?

Watching television is boring enough during daylight hours so not even worth considering.

Reading only makes the mind more active (well, mine anyway)

Please don't say hot milky drink.  Ugh!

Suspect phoning one of my brothers might lead to excommunication (at the least).

Phoning anyone at all not a good idea.

Listening to the silence is unrewarding and a little unnerving.

Talking to myself is unproductive since I have nothing of value to say.

Don't want to go on a spider hunt (might find one)!!

Thinking about Thursday's vote is not going to help anything.

Mentally wandering down the highways and byways of my past is a daunting process since, as we age memories become hazy, fact merging with fiction and however full our memory libraries may be the retrieval system is unreliable.

This is the Summer Solstice and I am a Celt.

Could it be as simple as that?

Nah.!

Stay in or Leave?

Despite the fact that I know how I am going to vote I am still, against all my basic instincts, listening to arguments on both sides.

Somewhere hidden deep inside of my mind is a glimmer of hope that I may even now hear something which will convince me, one way or the other.

Given the calibre of the argument so far that is a vain hope.

Among the lies, half-truths, wild flights of fancy and scare mongering there is occasionally a grain of half visible truth.

There are real concerns as well as blind prejudices, crude racialism, fear-driven attacks, so far only verbal, but the heat is growing.

I do not own a crystal ball, have no secret information which is unavailable to the rest of the country, and have never claimed to be any kind of expert on political problems, but...............

There is just one thing which convinces me that staying in Europe makes better sense than leaving and that is the calibre of people who are espousing the 'leave' campaign.

If nothing else could make my mind up once and for all it is seeing  'Barmy Boris' and 'Foolish Farage' leading the opposition.

Out of Action

OK so the picture might be exaggerating slightly, but this is day five of a really nasty cold/virus/lurgy which has kept me in bed for 3 and a half days, and wanting to be in bed the remainder of the time.

Usual very sore throat, streaming nose, sneezing and coughing coupled with bouts of giddiness.  Sweating profusely at the slightest exertion (or none at all) and total loss of appetite.

One kind neighbour bought my oranges, squash and grapes so I didn't have to even think of going out, another put out and replaced my bins for me on collection day, so there was no need to make any gestures toward 'normal activities'

Obviously, having missed church on Sunday, and my favourite anthem "Drop drop slow tears" I also am losing out on the suddenly wonderful weather after a really cold grey week.

This, in case you hadn't noticed is a  bout of self-indulgent self-pity of the first order.

Having got it off my chest (so to speak), I should feel guilty but relieved.

I don't.

If I were a baby I'd throw my rattle out of the pram.

If I were a toddler I'd stamp and scream.

But I'm just a miserable, whinging old woman, sweating and whining.

And Blogging