Never the easy way

Okay, that’s the referendum out of the way, aside from the bleating of those who cannot accept they were outvoted this time. When people develop a mindset that tells them they are always right, when they believe themselves intelligent even though they struggle to spell IQ, that is always going to happen. Get the popcorn, open the news feed, and watch them scramble.

As for me, well, things just got interesting. Sigh. Yes, again.

I was on the verge of shutting down my little lab completely. I hadn’t had cause to use it for a long time and really, it was just a white elephant.

The janitor job had more hours cut again and I really think we’re being phased out. With no other suitable jobs around I decided to invent my own and started setting up as a publisher. That’s going well, but not as fast as I had hoped.

For the next two weeks I am working as holiday cover for the Other Me in the shop so I’ll be there every day. Then Boss goes on holiday for a week – and then I have to take time off or I’ll go insane in there!

So, with all this going on, what does Life do? It throws me a curve ball.

After a few phone calls, I have a meeting next week to discuss doing some research work for a Very Big Company, using my little lab. Why me? Well, I have the intestine simulator in my lab, and you can’t buy this thing. I made it from the ground up and this latest version isn’t in any publically available research paper. It’s only been used in commercial research. The lab has a last minute reprieve. Well, I’ll keep it for another three months and see if this project gets anywhere. Very Big Companies sometimes float ideas and then just say ‘nah’.

As if it wasn’t going to be busy enough with holiday cover and starting up a publishing business, I now have to prepare to sell my brain to a Big Company that has so much money they can pay me enough out of the petty cash box to at least double my annual income.

So, which of the jobs will take a back seat? None of them of course. Everything will take a little longer than I had anticipated but nothing is getting shelved. It’ll be a hellishly busy few weeks but it’s all going to happen. All of it. Impossible? Probably. I’ll do it anyway.

Am I making this difficult enough? Maybe I should start learning Danish at the same time, just to make it more interesting…


It’s decided then. We are to leave the EU. Or… is it?

The Remain camp have set up a petition and got all their faithful little drones to sign it. They are asking the Government to change the rules of the referendum that we just had, so that the Leave side would have to get 70% of the vote to win.

The Remain side only have to get 31% to win under that system, but that part is being quietly ignored. There are videos appearing claiming to show people who voted ‘Leave’ but who are now regretting it. It’s clearly propaganda bollocks but the drones will fall for it.

Okay, it was a close vote but Scotland lost an independence vote by the same amount and that was the end of that… or was it?

The Spiteful Nannying Party are pushing for a quick independence referendum. Yes, another one. They want to stay in the EU and like the EU, they want to keep voting until they get the answer they want. Which is why I won’t be at all surprised if we have to have another in/out referendum. In which I will vote ‘out’ again. Might even add ‘Look, I told you once, and this is the last time I’m telling you’ to the form.

Scotland was pegged as mostly voting Remain and the SNP think that if they have an independence referendum now, they’ll win it. They might. The Scots seem to like being in the EU for no logical reason I can fathom since few of them know what it does or what it’s for.

The ones I spoke to here voted to stay because, well, it seems to be okay as it is so why take a risk?

If you never take any risks you stagnate. You cannot progress. Some risks work out and some don’t. Just keep at it. A life without risk isn’t life. It’s just an existence and for me, that will never be enough. Oh I’ll never be massively rich but I always manage to make just enough to live on. Sometimes a little bit extra.

The Scots might well vote for an ‘independence’ that leaves them under the control of the EU as long as they don’t ever realise it means taking on the Euro. Oh yes, it does. No more of that cherished Scottish money because the Scottish pound is of equal value with the Bank of England pound now. Independence means you can’t use Sterling any more and the only thing the EU offers is the Euro. And you won’t be allowed to put thistles on it.

Vote for independence *snork* and you go right back to the situation you were in before the UK voted to leave the EU. It’s not the English who are in charge now, you know. The UK just voted for real independence, and Scotland wants to jump right back into the servitude we escaped. Think it’ll be Scottish oil and Scottish fisheries? It’ll be EU oil and anyone can drill for it. The Scottish fishing fleet will continue to be decimated because it was never the English who did that. Suckers. The English will have independence and you won’t, and you’ll vote for that. Irony overload.

Doesn’t bother me. I’m Welsh, I can easily move somewhere else because I’m an irritating bastard who isn’t welcome anywhere. I’ll pick somewhere that doesn’t have that Euro nonsense. It’s doomed to a massive collapse and I don’t want to have any when it happens.

The Cameroid resigned. He didn’t really need to do that. It makes him look like he can’t actually manage to be Prime Monster of an independent nation. He needs people to tell him what to do. Anyway, he’s going, and the word on the street is that Boris the Undercouch Spider will replace him.

Stop press – I have just been informed by Boris the Undercouch Spider that I have confused him with someone who looks like a cheap mop head on a badly inflated beach ball. Well, these things happen.

Cameroid wasn’t too bad really. He looks like he should be selling toasters for Tefal and the EU kicked him around like a pig’s bladder in a group of Victorian street urchins but he never plumbed the depths of Blair and Mandelson. Those two could out-slime a bucket of slugs… each.

Still, he’s gone but we still have Gideon the hotel bible guy in charge of an economy he doesn’t understand and we are likely to get the wall crawler as our front man to the world next. It will make the world think of the UK as a big top with the clowns in charge, but that’s a pretty accurate assumption at the moment. Let’s hope it changes soon. We can but hope.

The result of the referendum is apparently not binding on the government but if they choose to ignore it or to hold a second one it will have some seriously bad results. Not just in this country.

France, Germany and the Netherlands are likely to go for a referendum too. If they see that their democratic votes can be ignored they might not bother with the peaceful way at all. It could turn out to be unpleasant.

Maybe the Cameroid is sensible to get the hell out of the way. I would.

Today is the day

Today the UK decides who runs it. Our own government or a far-away EU government. I have voted already.

Tomorrow we find out whether the people of this country have the guts to stand on their own, or whether they wish to remain in a money-draining club that is looking ever more unstable by the day.

Nobody seems to know much about what the EU does. It’s not so much that it’s secretive, it’s more that (in the UK at least) politicians look down on the rest of the country as if they are simpletons. Don’t ask questions about politics, you can’t possibly understand the answers. Just tune in to the TV and stop bothering us or we’ll send you to bed without supper. Politicians wonder why nobody likes them, but that’s how they come across in any interaction with the public.

Well, now that arrogance has come back to haunt them. People are, on the whole, scared of things they don’t understand and it’s now become clear that neither the Leave nor Remain camps actually have any real idea what they are voting for.

So we have all this crazy nonsense such as ‘leaving the EU means severing all links to every country in Europe’. ‘We won’t be able to go on holiday’ ‘The UK will just drift into the mid-Atlantic and sink’ ‘Zombies will come. Zombies!’

The other side can be just as crazy with wild promises of streets paved with gold and a money tree in every garden. Really it all boils down to ‘we have no idea what the EU is for but we either like it or hate it depending on what someone we don’t like prefers’.

I have actually been told, on Twitter, that voting ‘leave’ is what Nigel Farage and Donald Trump want, and that should be a good enough reason to vote ‘Stay’. Really? I should base my vote on some kind of tongue-poking exercise at people I’ve never met?

I based my vote on a desire to see this country stand on its own again. We don’t need all those extra layers of bureaucracy. This is Britain. Nobody does bureaucracy better than us. We perfected it ages ago and we have forms for everything. We have no need of anyone overseeing our paperwork, we are really very good at it.

All I see of the EU is a vast drain on resources to pay people to do stuff we are actually better at doing ourselves. Layer upon layer of officials, even more than a local council. It’s become ridiculous.

Dai Cameroid is still talking about renegotiating our place in the EU and Jean-Claude Juncker has made clear that’s not going to happen. No negotiations at all. The EU isn’t interested in compromises and is never going to change. There really is only one option. In or out.

This is it. Decision time. Stayed lashed to the apron strings of the EU, an organisation that seems to me to only exist to make politicians rich – or strike out on our own, make our own decisions, form our own trade partnerships without having to ask anyone’s permission or pay anyone to let us do it.

The polls close in four and a half hours. If you haven’t voted, go and do it. decide which way you want the future to go and cast your vote. Don’t just let the day slip by.

You’ll never have the chance again.


Guest Post – Brexit as an escape from an abusive relationship

This one isn’t me. It arrived by email, with a request for anonymity.

It’s a parable of sorts. An analogy, where the UK is the wife in a doomed marriage and who is trying to escape it. It struck a chord with me, for sure, and with only a couple of days left to the Big Vote, I thought it well worth an airing.

It might help to explain, in simple terms, what both sides of the debate have been explaining in complex terms.

Anyway, have a read. See if it makes sense to you and if it does, pass it on. If it doesn’t, it’s a very good piece of writing anyway.



To leave him. To leave this trapped life where my decisions are no longer mine. I would rather be alone than lonely in an abusive marriage in my own house. Oh he has never laid a finger on me but the little cruelties that can crush your soul and destroy your spirit little by little. Year by year.

In front of everyone he pretends everything is fine. That I’m as happy as any wife has a right to be. But I’m not free, the basic freedoms that we take for granted are a luxuries that I can no longer afford. That I was never able to afford. They were always an illusion.

We’ve been married for so long that I’ve almost forgotten why we got married in the first place. It was the seventies, I had my independence, I was mistress of my own destiny. But my friends were getting married and it still seemed the thing to do. Everyone told me that I didn’t want to be left on the shelf. What was I going to do, my friends would say, live by myself? Was that even safe? A woman alone without a husband, living by herself? Apparently, in spite of the emancipation, I still needed a man to give my life meaning and keep me safe.

I wondered whether I was doing the right thing. Whether getting married to a man I scarcely knew was the right thing for me. There was a voice in my head whispering that I didn’t need a man to feel complete, to be safe, to feel that my life had meaning; that I didn’t need a man to enjoy the rewards of my financial independence. I didn’t need a man to go on holiday to beautiful destinations, I didn’t need a man to eat in fancy restaurants, I didn’t need a man to fix the odd job around the house. And yet I decided to ignore that voice, to shut it in a remote recess of my brain and walk down the aisle with this handsome man, to tie my future to his until death do us part.

On paper he was perfect. A good family, educated at the best schools, well-travelled, passionate about art and classical music. His father was a French intellectual, a champagne socialist from an aristocratic if no longer wealthy family. His mother was the youngest daughter of a German industrialist, who, ignoring his daughter’s obvious business sense, had thought it more useful to marry her off to a French aristocrat in the hope of making people forget his own working class beginnings. My husband’s family was rich in status if not in cash. But I didn’t care about all of that. He was handsome and passionate. My friends swooned and I let myself be swept up by the wedding mania that was affecting all of them.

At first I was hopeful. I had told him many times I wanted to maintain my independence. Financial and otherwise. After all I was my own woman, a child of the seventies. I made it clear I wanted to continue working. I had landed a job in a bank, which I thoroughly enjoyed. My hard work was being rewarded and I was getting promoted. Being paid less than my male colleagues wasn’t at the time the concern it is today. It was the seventies; looking at my friends I considered myself lucky that my parents had always encouraged me to study and have a career.

The first few months after the wedding were oh so exciting. We would go on romantic city breaks on the spur of the moment: Rome, Paris, Amsterdam, Berlin, Barcelona. And then Prague, Budapest, Athens. The summer would be spent on Greek Islands or in the south of Italy. Friends would drop by for dinner or come and stay for the weekend. I didn’t mind. They were exotic and exciting.

Little by little things started to get awkward. I was working hard every hour of the day. On the way home I would stop by the supermarket to buy food to make dinner for whoever my husband had happened to invite that day. I would get home, prepare dinner, entertain our guests until they decided it was time to leave, which was never before midnight. I would then tidy up, go to bed to start it all over again the following morning.

It was the same almost every day and worse over the weekend. People would come and stay, unannounced, uninvited. I tried asking him if we could maybe limit the dinner parties to one or two evenings a week, or maybe have a weekend to ourselves once a month.

At first he would say he understood but didn’t want to be rude to that friend who had already booked flights to come and stay, or seem ungrateful after that other friend had hosted us in his place in Majorca last year. He said his friends didn’t expect fancy dinners, and I loved cooking so what was the harm in cooking for a few extra people as I would have cooked for the two of us anyway, and where you can feed two, surely you can feed three or five. I tried to point out the fallacy in his logic but he wasn’t having it.

I kept at it. Told him how tired I was and how important it was to keep my eye on the ball at work since my salary was the main income in the household. I kept this last part to myself trying to protect his ego. After a while, however, he became aggressive. Started accusing me of not liking his friends, of being an unsociable miserable cow, of being stingy.

It’s too much. All the broken promises, the lies. We’re supposed to be in this together but somehow my words don’t matter. I work but he makes all the decisions. He convinced me early on to let him look after my money and now I can’t even buy a new hoover without his permission. In exchange, he said, he’d keep me safe.

Safe? He ignored my protests when a guest tried to molest me, saying it was nothing, just his manner, and anyway, I must have led him on. He ignored me when I asked to install a security system in the house, saying I was being paranoid; now we’ve been burgled twice in the space for a few months. So much for protection. He promised fine things yet we never seem to have enough money, and he’s always ‘borrowing’ from me.

I tried to talk to him, to make him understand. I wanted this to work. He said he’d change, that all relationships require compromise, but nothing happened.

Then he got angry. He started insulting me. He accused me of not loving him, of not having any feelings, of not caring for our marriage, that I love nobody by myself. He told me that I’m greedy, that all I care about is my job, and the house and our “financial security”.  But all these things? Apparently, I owe them all to him.

When I corrected him, telling him I was fine on my own, more than fine, I was happy on my own, with a good job and house and career, he threatened to take away all we had, not caring whether it made his life worse, so long as he had his revenge on me.

How can I live like this? Day after day, trapped in a relationship where I have no say.  I’ve made up my mind. I’m leaving. I’m leaving him.

Oh sure, my friends are horrified – what kind of person am I? What does it matter that I have no say in our relationship if all the decisions he makes are in my best interest? So he invites a ‘few’ friends over, am I really that antisocial? So some might be over friendly, why must I be so judgemental? That’s the continental way, poor ignorant bumpkin that I am. The burglaries? Probably poor chaps who had no other choices. Can you imagine what it must be like to be so poor that your only choice is to commit a crime?

How will I cope on my own, they say? How will I make my living? No one will ever love me again; no one will invite me for dinner because nobody likes a singleton. What about holidays? Do I know how much single holidays cost? How humiliating to book a single holiday. What are my employers going to say? What are they going to think about having a divorced woman on their books? And yes, my husband isn’t perfect but let’s be honest, I’m nothing special and I’m lucky to have him, it’s not like I can do any better. Who will ever want me? I will be alone in the world.

Well, so much for my friends. I’m worth more than that. I believe in myself. I trust myself. It’s more important to make my own choices and accept the ups and downs, than rely on a strong man who says he’ll take care of everything but actually can’t even take care of himself. A man who says that without him I am nothing and could do nothing. I could have done everything in my life without him, and I sure as hell can thrive when he’s gone.

It’s about dignity.

It’s about self-belief.

It’s about my life, on my terms.

It’s time to leave.





On Thursday this week, I will vote to leave the EU. Mostly because I want to see this country grow up and stand on its own. The people have become so weak now, I have even heard 20 year olds commenting on it. Really, when someone that young is noticing changes within their lifetime, it’s long past time to call a halt.

So I will vote to leave. You can call me racist, Nazi, bigot, homophobe, paedo, fish tickler and badger botherer. Anything. I don’t care. None of them are true. Well almost none. I did once tickle a fish.

I won’t call you anything in return. I won’t kill you, maim you, bruise you or even inconvenience you. I am not a saggy Irish ex-punk singer who likes to abuse fishermen from a safe distance, nor a Remainian who insists that anyone with a different opinion is evidently lower than something Satan had to flush twice.

I’m just going to vote. That’s all I’m going to do because in the end it’s all that matters.

What you want to do is up to you, but you are not going to change my mind with abuse or threats or by blaming me for things I have never done. Those things simply harden my resolve.

We have been distracted by football violence this week. Initially blamed solely on England fans by the British media, but they had to backtrack when the rest of the world recognised that Russian woodland-trained crazy bastards were the root cause. Turkey is sending its elite crazy bastards to the after-match, before-match and during-match senseless violence too. I see Croatia has now entered the competition.

Oh it’s not surprising. Football is competitive. The fans are competitive too. If you say the England fans are the most violent arseheads in the game then other countries are going to say ‘Yeah? Watch this, ya fookas’ and it is only going to escalate. The Arsehead Express is coming to town.

And then you get a crazed loner going out to kill a woman politician. He has a homemade gun and a knife, is arrested at the scene and is still considered a ‘suspect’. He was caught in the act, he’s not a ‘suspect’, he’s a murdering bastard and should be locked up forever.

But that’s British law. Innocent until proven guilty in court, and that’s actually a good thing. In this case it isn’t likely to take long but the process is laudable nonetheless.

If I was in charge there would be harsher penalties for a man attacking a woman, but that probably makes me a misogynist. The Wimmin will be out to protest that they are perfectly capable of beating a man senseless without outside help. Some of them are…

The crazed killer who murdered a defenceless MP is being linked to the Brexit campaign. Smug evil Remainians have been on Twitter to tell us that we are all evil murderers, even though there is nothing to link him to Brexit at all. Strangely, these same smug evil swines take great pains to point out that the Orlando shooter was not representative of all of Islam. Double standards much?

There is now a petition to cancel the EU referendum. Not postpone it, cancel it. Parliament will naturally seize on this since it is their only chance of staying in the EU and staying on the gravy train.

There are those who consider the murder of an MP to be a ‘false flag’ and really, would those who have used the tactics of the Remain group stoop so low as to sacrifice one of their own for The Cause? You know, the more I think about it, the more I really wouldn’t put it past them.

Whatever the murderer’s motive, the Remainians have wasted no time in using this vicious crime for political advantage. They will now try to stop the referendum happening at all.

I can only imagine that Remainians are afraid to live their own lives. They are the same people, by and large, who want to live everyone else’s for them but they rely on the EU to run their own lives. Sad and feeble people, really.

We are going to leave the EU. Either by Thursday’s vote or shortly thereafter when the whole rotten edifice falls apart on its own. I’d rather not be part of it when that happens.

There will be more distractions this week. They will want to hide that they’ve just let Turkey join and that Switzerland has withdrawn its application to join.

The Remain campaign offers nothing but more subservience. They have nothing but abuse and rhetoric to put before us. If we lose this vote on Thursday they will crow victory and things will get a lot worse for everyone. The EU will already have punishments lined up for us for daring to try to leave and if we don’t leave, we will suffer for our effrontery.

It won’t be ‘just the same’ if the vote says we stay in. It will be much, much worse.

We have to get away from these control freaks and ideally, send all the Remain campaigners over to that oppressive Stalinist regime they love so much.

It’s time to stop cowering against the threats and the abuse. It’s time to see past the distractions.

It’s time to be a country again.

At Death’s door

I have a Man Cold. I woke this morning to find my nostrils had healed over and my face filled with glue. So I have spent the day deciding whether to be buried or cremated and considering who best to inflict my worldly possessions on.

Fortunately I am being allowed to suffer with minimal eye-rolling and so will probably survive the night.

Tomorrow… maybe

Silent running

Still editing. It’s taking a while. I’m assembling the author sections and will send them out for checking over as each becomes complete. Then, once everyone is happy, the author contracts and at long last, money (and/or books) change hands.

I have been amazed at the imagination in these stories. I wonder why many of you aren’t already published. It’s going to be a hell of a book but definitely not for under 18s. There’s some rough stuff in there but well told and well written too.

I’ll be quiet while I do this. Maybe I can persuade CynaraeStMary to do a post to keep you all entertained in the meantime.

And maybe in the next one there’ll be author photos too. You can start considering how you want to be portrayed…