Tonight L. and I attended our GD (aka general dancing) at our usual place, the Main Dining Hall of the University Centre (grad pad). There is a silly (and also a bit exasperating) tradition to switch on a big screen with the BBC News channel constantly showing while folks are dancing. Although nobody usually follows the news, the TV is always on (to everyone’s big relief, without sound).
Tonight everything was going normally, except that my attention was continuously dragged to the screen (luckily, I know my dance routines well enough to dance without hesitation, even while distracted).
And here is the thing: I was looking at the BBC presenters interviewing politicians (mostly Brexiteers), who were raving, as one could expect, about the great consequences that the country would definitely get after ‘Brexit is done properly’—then I was looking at people who attended the dancing evening—young and old, British and foreign, they were cheerful and happy and seemingly didn’t pay any attention to the BS happening on the screen.
And weirdly enough, that gave me hope. I am an adult woman, and a cynical one, and I don’t believe in a second that Brexit will make the UK greater and stronger: no way will it happen in a million years. Tactically, we, Remainers, were defeated, and pomposity along with narrow-mindedness are winning at the moment, but this triumph is temporary. I know we all will feel lots of shameless Schadenfreude very soon when Johnson and his clique make their first report about the NHS (and boy, it’s coming). Don’t give up. We didn’t divorce Europe: they did. Together, we can resist their madness, their arrogance and their inanity. We will know about ourselves that we have done it. And this will give us the strength and stamina to overcome this malarkey.
It is happening, but we are not participating.
We are not a minority, remember it.
We are not Brexit.
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