Here we go again. Another step backwards regarding our position about staying or leaving the EU. As someone who voted out for reasons that I considered important to me and hopefully for my children and grandchildren, I had hoped by now that a solid foundation for leaving had been laid out and that the rest of the population would have come round to the idea that brexit meant exactly that. Now from nowhere comes a small group of people who seem to me to be pontificating about how they are doing this because they believe that parliament should have a say in what happens. I have no proof of their actual intentions as to why they have thrown this spanner in the works but my gut instinct is to assume that somewhere down the line their bank balances and business dealings are what is actually driving their fervour. There has been talk of Theresa May calling a snap election if the Supreme Court agrees with the latest ruling and personally I think that may be the best way to go and get it sorted once and for all. Our standing in the world regarding our attempt to get back our freedom has no doubt become something of a joke in many parts of the world. As one of the oldest democracies in the world it saddens me to see what a mess this and previous governments have created. Hopefully it will all come to a satisfactory conclusion in the end and we as a country can get back to some normality but I fear there will be a bit of blood letting before that happens.

An overheard remark.
It’s strange how an overheard remark can sometimes set memories in motion that you thought were done and dusted a long time ago.
Such a remark permeated my tired brain during the train journey home from a particularly long day at the office.
I must have been in that semi conscious state between awake and asleep that a warm carriage combined with the gentle hum of the train over the tracks often induces.
In the seats opposite me across the aisle were a couple of well dressed elderly ladies, who had, judging by the names on the bags, been on an expensive money no object shopping spree.
Although I wasn’t intentionally listening it became obvious from the odd snippet I overheard, that they had been involved in some altercation with a shop assistant in one of the large well known high street stores.
“I fully intend to write to the management and tell them how badly we were treated” said one lady in that tone of voice that suggested she was used to being treated with some deference.
“I have no idea what the world is coming to” said her companion, lifting her face skyward in that way that suggested she was somehow offended “they should bring back the good old days”.
That last remark about the so called ‘good old days’ was the one that hit home and started my train of thought.
Although my travelling companions were total strangers to me I had a sudden urge to get up and cross over to where they were sitting and tell them some home truths about what life was like in the so called ‘good old days’.
I wanted to tell them how difficult life had been for me, coming as I did from a large not to well off family.
To tell them how we lived from hand to mouth, week in week out, and our idea of new clothes meant hand me downs that an older sibling had no more use for.
I wanted to tell them about the simple treats we were often promised but never received, as any spare money was handed over the bar at the local pub, or over the counter at the bookies by the so called breadwinner, which more often than not bode non to well for the rest of us if things had gone badly at either venue.
I very much doubted they had ever trudged to school come rain or shine in leaky shoes, and on a good day carry a packed lunch that consisted of a couple of thinly spread jam sandwiches instead of the usual bread and margarine.
By now the two well to do ladies opposite had gone from my mind, as I was now consumed with memories from what I thought was a long forgotten past, and as I watched the countryside roll by my thoughts gradually turned to the life I had made for myself despite my shaky start.
I had a well paid job, a nice house, and a devoted wife and children to go home to ,but somehow the overheard remark had started to take on a new meaning.
Though the so called ’good old days’ for me had meant a rough upbringing, it had also given me the strength to stand on my own two feet and look life in the face, and above all never take anything for granted and give thanks for what you had.
I gave my wife and children an extra long hug when I arrived home that evening.