It’s the evening of the day that the Commons voted itself into irrelevance by refusing the opportunity to have a final say on the Brexit negotiations. Jill and I are sitting with a German friend in the grounds of his Second Empire chateau in Uzès, looking out across the wooded valley of the Eure towards the cathedral and the Fenestrelle.
This is where the Romans came to get their fresh water, from the fontaine de l’Eure, building the Pont du Gard to ensure a precise gradient over 50 kilometres of aqueduct from here to the city of Nemausus, now Nîmes.
But Guido is in no mood to admire this idyllic view or contemplate what the Romans did for us.
“You are fucked” he tells us.
We nod in agreement. We know what this mild-mannered, liberal European citizen thinks of the shenanigans in the UK.
“And the reason why you Brits are fucked” he continues, “is because you have forgotten your history. We are European, all of us. In Germany, we know this. My generation of Germans understand only too well the dangers of nationalism. You Brits seem to have forgotten.”
We nod in agreement.
“So why aren’t you doing anything about it?”
We explain that we are active supporters of the Labour Party, that we had campaigned and voted to remain, that a few days before we arrived in the south we had sat at a table with Sir Keir Starmer discussing exactly this point, that Leamington Spa had been a remain oasis in an ocean of leave, that we had overturned a Tory majority of more than 6,000 in the last general election, that we didn’t actually know anyone who voted leave, that we continued to argue and debate and demonstrate to stay in the EU.
We tell him about the tweet we had seen, that the 58% vote to leave has been rounded up to 100%, and the 48% to remain has been rounded down to zero.
“So you really are fucked.”
We nod in agreement. “Pretty much.”
“Your economy. Your legal system. Your technology. Your agriculture. Your universities. Your whole fucking country!”
We nod in agreement.
“What is it about you Brits that make you want to turn your back on the institution that has kept peace in Europe for more than half a century? What is it that makes you refuse to take more than a handful of immigrants? And treat them disgracefully?”
We remonstrate mildly, pointing out that Germany has its own UKIP, as does France, Italy and Austria.
“But in England they are setting the agenda, running the country. Face it, you’re fucked.”
There is no answer. We sit in silence with our wine, looking out over the Eure valley.
We never even mentioned the football.
Today from the everysmith vaults: Still no news of the Never Ending Tour arriving in the UK in 2018, so I'm enjoying some of the European shows from a few weeks ago, notably Barcelona. The set list remains unchanged, but there are some interesting refinements in the arrangements and both Bob and the band are on top form. That will do me for the moment.
This is where the Romans came to get their fresh water, from the fontaine de l’Eure, building the Pont du Gard to ensure a precise gradient over 50 kilometres of aqueduct from here to the city of Nemausus, now Nîmes.
But Guido is in no mood to admire this idyllic view or contemplate what the Romans did for us.
“You are fucked” he tells us.
We nod in agreement. We know what this mild-mannered, liberal European citizen thinks of the shenanigans in the UK.
“And the reason why you Brits are fucked” he continues, “is because you have forgotten your history. We are European, all of us. In Germany, we know this. My generation of Germans understand only too well the dangers of nationalism. You Brits seem to have forgotten.”
We nod in agreement.
“So why aren’t you doing anything about it?”
We explain that we are active supporters of the Labour Party, that we had campaigned and voted to remain, that a few days before we arrived in the south we had sat at a table with Sir Keir Starmer discussing exactly this point, that Leamington Spa had been a remain oasis in an ocean of leave, that we had overturned a Tory majority of more than 6,000 in the last general election, that we didn’t actually know anyone who voted leave, that we continued to argue and debate and demonstrate to stay in the EU.
We tell him about the tweet we had seen, that the 58% vote to leave has been rounded up to 100%, and the 48% to remain has been rounded down to zero.
“So you really are fucked.”
We nod in agreement. “Pretty much.”
“Your economy. Your legal system. Your technology. Your agriculture. Your universities. Your whole fucking country!”
We nod in agreement.
“What is it about you Brits that make you want to turn your back on the institution that has kept peace in Europe for more than half a century? What is it that makes you refuse to take more than a handful of immigrants? And treat them disgracefully?”
We remonstrate mildly, pointing out that Germany has its own UKIP, as does France, Italy and Austria.
“But in England they are setting the agenda, running the country. Face it, you’re fucked.”
There is no answer. We sit in silence with our wine, looking out over the Eure valley.
We never even mentioned the football.
Today from the everysmith vaults: Still no news of the Never Ending Tour arriving in the UK in 2018, so I'm enjoying some of the European shows from a few weeks ago, notably Barcelona. The set list remains unchanged, but there are some interesting refinements in the arrangements and both Bob and the band are on top form. That will do me for the moment.
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