Four years ago, we were in beautiful Logroño, the capital of the Spanish province of Rioja (our close friends have already known that we have a soft spot in our hearts for this place, although I believe we were a bit too repetitive in saying so). It was a sunny morning, and the very first thing we both did was check our social media.
We wanted to know how the Brexit referendum had turned out. Only a few days had passed since Jo Cox’s death, and the dynamics in public opinion had shifted towards staying in the EU—or so we thought. We had stayed up late the night before, and the very first result in Newcastle gave us hope that the Remain side would win. Well, that wasn’t exactly what happened. The very first thing I spotted on my Facebook timeline was some comments below The Independent: most of them were full of despair and denial. “That cannot be true,” “I am a non-British living with my ILR (Indefinite Leave to Remain), working for a big company based in London, what can I do?” and the like.
To say we were bewildered and shocked didn’t exactly give justice to our emotions: we were despondent. “Well, it’s the beginning of a huge downward spiral,” L. said, and I agreed with him, damn, of course, I did. Then, on our way home to the UK, people’s faces in the queue at Stansted Airport looking at the huge monitor with the news on (BBC or ITV I don’t recollect), didn’t give us the impression that everyone out there was happy with the outcome. People looked gloomy and downhearted.
Four years after, I can definitely say that we are in the middle of nowhere: everything that hasn’t been screwed up yet is waiting to be completed, the prognoses about the British economy are as bad as ever, plus, as the cherry on top, as if all that weren’t enough, we have one of the worst death ratings in the world due to the Covid pandemic.
Ever since David Bowie died, shit’s been weird. And I doubt whether it will get better in the near future.
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