The Boy Likes Gin

Receiving a 'sad face' emoji on the night of Brexit made me realise that nation I adored had changed. I knew the impact of Brexit would be bad, but I never imagined that things would get this bad. Watching the wonderful nation go to war with itself is heartbreaking to watch. Will Mr Burnham, the prime minister-in-waiting, be brave and lead Britain back to whom it once was?  Receiving the happy face emoji will tell me that he has.  

#rejoin #reversebrexit 

My grandad was an Indian immigrant into Britain in the 1950's. He taught me a lot about integration. Become new, was his example. He didn't teach me to wear yellow trousers. I learnt that all by myself. 

We in Europe have much to thank America for, but it is time to realise just how different we are. It is perhaps time to give each other a peck on the cheek, a tight hug, and then go our separate ways. 

Hell in a handbasket? I am not convinced, darling. I think that there are many reasons for optimism even in this current era of madness. A decade of rage, indeed, but anger can't last forever.

My darling friend Margot, knowing of my geopolitics obsession, messaged me to ask what on earth is going on in Iran and how will it all end. Here is my reply. 

I love talking. Talking is my only real skill. I like to use my voice to help people, but a recent conversation with my sister made me realise that giving people space with my silence is sometimes far more helpful. I vow to (occasionally) shush. 

I was immensely overweight in my twenties. I am not now; some would say I am a tad dashing. But to lose the weight, and keep the weight off, I had to be incredibly brave, and go to battle against a battalion of memories and traumas. So, not even a wild storm could stop me walking to the gym last week, especially when one was joined by Queen Mary.

I have a confession. I am having a wild love affair. It has been going on for years. And, as  all deep loves are, it is complicated, unfathomable, and entirely wonderful. It's time I revealed all. 

Christmas makes me ache, and not in a good way. But it was not the case when I was a child. They were teeming with magic. This year at our family Christmas, I could see the magic maker - Mother - was fading away. I may never wear a Christmas sweater, but I need to start wearing my Christmas memories more often. They soon will cease to be made. 

Sat alone in my regular bar, I witness a lot. Nothing is more gripping than a disastrous first date. Last week's was one of the most spectacular in years. But, Claudette, we salute you for your final word!