The morning after the night before

Bollox to Brexit

The morning after the night before

And we are still hanging in there. Following 33 months of uncertainty, fear, and anger at a situation we were thrown into without being given any reliable or reassuring information, or answers to any of our questions, and unbelievably the 29^thMarch has been and gone and nothing has changed.

The 29th March was always going to be a difficult day for me; a dark day, a day to retreat within and block out the world, but at least I thought by now we would know; deal or no deal, date of exit, the new rules we will now need to abide by. But no, nothing.

There has been no ring-fencing of citizens’ rights, there has been nothing the British government can agree on and we are no closer to understanding what happens to our futures and how we can run our business and live our lives. That is 33 months of nothing.

 

Let the party begin

Whatever the final outcome, the damage has been done; hearts have been broken, families and friendships fractured, and Britain has become a divided rather than United Kingdom. I trust no one in UK politics to unravel this mess they have created; in fact, I doubt they could even organise a piss-up in a brewery. I on the other hand, along with some equally fed up Brits in France, certainly can. A few weeks ago (when Brexit was still due to blindly happen on 29^thMarch) six of us were having lunch. The Brexit issue reared its ugly head, as usual, and one friend offered to host an evening on 29/3, so we wouldn’t have to sit alone and mope. Adrian then suggested seeing if the village bar was free that night, so we could invite a few others and the idea of a karaoke was suggested.

 

Fish & Chips at the village bar

The bar was free, and we were offered a fish’n’chip supper with dessert for 10€ a head, and in a matter of hours, word of mouth had filled all 40 seats and our Bollox to Brexit soiree was born. That, Mrs May, is how you rally the troops.

Last night forty lost souls felt slightly less alone as they celebrated the good things about life in France; the sense of community, the village bar and the wine. For one night we gave ourselves permission to let our hair down, to sing loud and forget our Brexit worries; it was a night of music and laughter, a much-needed pause in the madness. It is difficult to laugh when the world you’ve worked hard to achieve is unravelling, but laughter is a great medicine and one we all needed last night.

 

Photo credit Martin O'Neill

Today we are back to waiting, wondering and worrying, but we at least are a little bit more united than we were before.

Vive la France and the good old village bar.

This post has been linked to the Lou Messugo #AllAboutFrance link up.