Regrexit

Yesterday evening I watched a video, a young woman interviewed on national television, already regretting that she and her sisters and parents had voted to leave Europe, and wishing for another try at voting to put it right.

To say that, the day after the historic vote, smacks of an extreme level of naivete, a complete ignorance of both the issues and the consequences of one's own actions…

But hey, she got on the telly!

I've not much more to say on the European Referendum – not until we get some indication of likely trends, political decisions. Not until the dust settles. What there is for now, it's here.

It goes on for a bit.

Thursday was not the day for registering a protest vote, not the day for 'sending a message to Europe', not the day for 'sending a message to the British Parliament', no. Neither was Thursday the day to vote as one's friends, family and/or colleagues voted – to vote that way because your peers were.

Thursday perhaps wasn't the best day for a first-ever vote, and not the best day for that protest vote after a lifetime of assuming that votes don't matter, assuming that votes are meaningless…

At the last local election I decided to not vote. Not 'couldn't be bothered to', not a decision based on apathy but a decision based on an inability of the candidates and their parties to engage with me when it mattered.

I remain, despite my decades of votes, in general terms politically naive. I also believe that my vote could one day be the decider in a closely-fought election; a single vote to break a stalemate of indecision.

I believe that my 2 NON-Liberal/Liberal Democrat votes changed politics subtly – first the Green vote when 'everybody' voted Green that time, and then the UKIP vote when everybody voted UKIP that time.

Both votes felt good. GOOD. Yeah.

The time for a protest vote had passed before Thursday, it's just those voting for the first time ever, those contributing o the record turnout, didn't know it.

Now, I've seen individuals and political parties asking us to not demonise those who voted to leave Europe, to instead embrace them and work together to shape this nation towards a positive future.

Nope. I have the right to look disdainful at them, the right to shake my head and tut disapprovingly.

On Facebook and Twitter yesterday, and for the first time ever I used the term 'fucktards'. I honestly cannot see past the sadness and yes anger, that I felt on seeing the result. The politicians handed the future of our nation over to the people and assumed we'd know what to do. I say 'we' yeah, about that…

Nope. Not me. My half a brain's just big-enough to realise an attempt to re-assert our unique identity in the face of Euro-creep is ill-timed.

The British brand is very, very well-established worldwide. Though the English, Scottish, Welsh and Irish (sorry Northern Ireland) identify must often be explained to foreigners, we're not anonymous even within Europe.

Perceptions though; the Blitz, British Bulldog, stiff-upper lip, two-fingers-up-at-the-world, don't panic image remains strong at home.

Resilience under duress. The British Empire. Yeah.

How can we use the gift handed to us by the political machine to our advantage? What choices do we have now?

'We're all in this together.'

'We need our Big Society to pull us through.'

'We've taken back control!'

Miles, pounds and ounces, pints, feet and inches, curved bananas, our own armed forces, immigration, £350 million, yeah!

Yeah.

'Fucktards' though? Where do they come in?

Well, aside from the simple fact they've always been here, yesterday, and against the backdrop of my previous blog posts, I posted this on Facebook:

'Hmmm…

Leave voters*: "We got our country back!'

Rest of the world, washing hands as 10% is wiped off the value of the Pound in overnight currency trading: 'Yeah.'

*Can I SAY 'Fucktards' here?"

And, a little later, this:

"One final thought, please treat as rhetorical:

Who are 'we' going to blame THIS one on?"

Thursday was a day to vote armed (if you like) with knowledge gained after months of campaigning, at worst a basic understanding of the likely and immediate outcomes of a vote to leave, a day to think of the future.

Thursday was a day to vote knowing that foreigners would 'respect the wishes of the British', knowing that the financial markets would react predictably (badly for us and the rest of the world!), and knowing that the fallout from the vote would…

One can't argue against Democracy: at its best giving everyone an equal voice in the decision-shaping process, and at its worst giving everyone an equal voice in the decision-shaping process. We live in good times – when an ordinary person has as much influence as a wealthy, influential, fingers-in-all-the-pies, er… person.

But we are not all equal. Not everyone cared enough to research the issues and voted based in probabilities, based on a broad grasp of historical trends, based on an objective view of the realities of the modern business world.

The good news, such as it is, is this: the vote was close, and crucially is not binding on Parliament.

Close-enough that it's not too big a stretch to see that regrets might play a factor in future voter behaviour.

Our MPs and, I'm guessing here, the Lords, don't HAVE to vote to leave, don't HAVE to follow the will of 52% of the people.

The Prime Minister has already resigned, the Labour Party leader is facing a vote of no confidence ALREADY.

Uncertainty.

I'm guessing that a percentage Remain vote similar to Gibraltar's 96% to Remain would have made the decision easy for the majority of our political representatives. The overall 52%/48% split though makes things, er… difficult. Not impossible.

Would YOU want to be the politician who voted to remain despite your constituents' clear message? Would YOU deny their wishes even though your (hopefully!) deeper understanding of the issues gives you an insight the voters denied themselves?

It's all we have to put this right, all there is standing between us and years of austerity, misery and regret.


Assume I'm wrong.

Assume the politicians vote with their constituents. Out!

Then what? What must we do to ensure our economy establishes a firm footing? What is there, what are we not doing already, that will establish us as an economic entity trading from outside Europe?

I was probably wrong in thinking we must invent new industries post-Brexit. I was probably wrong on thinking that we need to dramatically shift the way we think about trade to make us more attractive to the rest of the world.

New industries: if it were that easy we'd have done it by now. There's nothing from Europe stopping us.

Trading differently: I don't know. Tariffs imposed by the rest of the world's trading blocs are likely to be the decider here; we must trade at a rate advantageous to both sides. 'Great' British pride must not stand in the way of hacking out a deal.

I don't know how long negotiations will take. Our best bet is simply to roll over and accept the terms allowed to Norway, Switzerland and soon Canada.

So why money, why am I not looking at immigration? I've heard, so many times, that 'we're full!'

No we're not, not by a long way. When was the last time you were unable to leave your home because the street was packed full of people? When did you fail to get your shopping due to mile-long, er… kilometre-long checkout queues?

Not full, see. Poorly-distributed.

Theres no doubt that areas across the nation see an influx of immigrants and naturally resent the erosion of their way of life.

We're struggling to maintain access to essential services for everyone, but that's not the fault of immigrants. Yeah, sure if there weren't any we'd have full employment, no need for a minimum wage and zero-hours contracts, the NHS would be fully-staffed and open 7 days a week, we wouldn't be shutting hospital accident and emergency units and merging maternity units, no.

It's about the distribution of money. The north fares badly. HS2 won't benefit us for decades, if ever, if it's ever built. The Northern Powerhouse is a Big Society bedfellow – a thing that removes government from decision-making and pushed it onto local government and businesses.

Inequality.

But still, what money do we have? Can we spend the £350,000,000 per week allocated to Europe?

Allocated to, not sent.

Last year the government took in £533,373,000,000 in tax.

Divide that by the Europe money multiplied by 52 weeks per year, divide 1 by it, and multiply the result by 100. What do you get?

3.41 – the percentage of our tax receipts allocated to Europe.

Wow. Allocated to not sent, but still A Big Number.

What do we get back, what's the net total we give to Europe?

Already the Welsh and Cornish are asking that the government matches the grants received from Europe – grants used to preserve their food, language and customs for future generations. The farmers and fishermen will follow, and the engineers, artists, broadcasters, tourism organisations…

The £350,000,000 allocated to build one hospital per week looks in danger of being eroded a bit already! Oh dear. Maybe we should settle for building 50,having 2 weeks off for Christmas, and using the leftover money to staff the hospitals instead!

It won't work but it's a start.

£350,000,000 multiplied by 52 is itself a quite large number.

£18,200,000,000. Wow.

Cornwall most recently took 0.33% of that.

So, let's ignore what we get back from Europe and concentrate on what we SEND there.

Well, from fullfact.org:

"In 2015 the UK government paid£13 billion to the EU budget, and EU spending on the UK was £4.5 billion. So the UK’s ‘net contribution’ was estimated at about £8.5 billion."

But wait, £350M per week is £18.2B – what's happening there? An instant rebate, albeit negotiated, that's what, but still considerably less than the £350M figure per week quoted ad nauseam by the Brecon camp.

A net contribution of £8.2B. What's that per week?

£157.7M per week. Wow. Maybe we should just cut back our hospital building programme, to perhaps 21 per year? Not looking as good now, is it? That's still preserving a Christmas break; important to note, that.

There are all kinds of savings to be made though:

  • Members of the European Parliament,
  • Bureaucrats employed on European stuff,
  • Er… that's it, right?

As time passes my certainty diminishes that I'll not see anarchy in my lifetime. My wish erodes to see a bright future for my girls. The belief that as a major player in a major co-operative movement we can shape history and nations for the better is eliminated in favour of observations of narrow-mindedness.

Songs/song titles of our times:

  • Anarchy in the UK: The Sex Pistols.

  • Road To Nowhere: Talking Heads.

  • Love Will Tear Us Apart: Joy Divison – and some lyrics for you:

"When routine bites hard,
And ambitions are low,
And resentment rides high,
But emotions won't grow,
And we're changing our ways,
Taking different roads.

Then love, love will tear us apart again.
Love, love will tear us apart again."

I hope mine is an overreaction.

Yes, I AM still scared.

Voter

To all those registered to vote in the UK's Europe Referendum: Go and vote; your country needs you.

Take your dog, young children along. They can't vote but it'll help.


My handy guide to where to make your mark – either:

LEAVE [ ]X (thinking outside the box; it's the future)

or:

REMAIN X

(Borrowed from a Facebook post.)

Space

Space. Mankind still hasn't conquered it. That's fine. There's still an element of danger inherent in the process, but it's a risk acceptable to everyone who participates in each and every mission.

Mankind has been visiting space for decades now, the protocols, the terminology, all of it well-understood: the countdown, lift-off, orbits, de-orbit burn, re-entry, touchdown – all should be commonplace in the viewer and broadcaster vocabulary.

The human aspect of space is also pretty obvious; people go up, experience zero-gravity, and come back to earth with decreased muscle mass. And then there's hope; that, one day, the schoolboy and schoolgirl watching wide-eyed could, perhaps, maybe, go up there too.

So why is space and man's achievements there viewed so negatively or at least by adopting a blasé approach?

Commonplace. Meh. Pretty pictures of our planet.

BBC One switched from a news broadcast, a good proportion of which concentrated on Tim's mission, to a cooking programme.

What‽

Not 15 minutes before the Soyuz capsule carrying Tim Peake was due to land, the BBC turns it off. An historic event worthy of a very real national pride, and the BBC can't be arsed.

Yeah, sure I could have watched elsewhere, even to Auntie Beeb's News channel. I'd naively expected the news programme to carry on for a bit and reschedule later stuff accordingly. So I switched channels.

The BBC does not get Baz's seal of approval.

Ah well.

It got me thinking.

Where, these days, is the sense of wonder, of hope, of looking forward rather than back, of aspiration, of…

Where are we going?

Ian

I work for a company with a larger-than-average number of gentlemen named Ian* concentrated into a small area. It's small-enough that three of the four could reach out and touch the others if they so desired…

Er…

Pretty-much every working day at 10am and 3pm (excluding Fridays) I've been telling Steve* that it's time for his drink: "Steve, brew time!"

Since 2002 that is, with breaks for good (and bad) behaviour. Steve gets a bit grumpy if brew time is delayed.

I'm kept on my toes by the rest of the office; if I forget the alert I'm reminded (or bypassed entirely!) It's a good thing, a dry engineer isn't a happy engineer!

And then we got a new guy and another new guy: 2 of our 4 Ians.*

They wanted in. Obviously, we engineers take brew times seriously. I modified the alert, which caught on in high circles, often invoked with third-party modifications; performance tuning!

A popular variant: "Brew Time Nuclear Ian, brew time no-nukes Ian!"*

Awesome.

We got a new starter 2 weeks ago, Dave.* Now Dave has been away this week – the 6-day SolidWorks course. A course to be completed in 5 days. Illogical maybe but hey, 'tis one of the most intense things I've ever done…

Anyway, I practised a tiny update to the brew time alert today, a tweak designed to establish a new office order:

"Brew time Steve, brew time Dave (a pause, and dismissive wave) brew time the Ians."

I think it'll work well. Quite what Dave will think of it I can't really guess at this stage. Based on what I've seen so far though, I think she'll fit in nicely.


*The names have been changed to protect the identities of those involved. Yes. As have their engineering specialities. We have other Ians throughout the building too; not quite an embarrassment of Ians though.

Clinton

Do you, like I, recall a time a decade or two ago; a time when Mr Clinton was accused of being a bit of a thicky, driven to succeed by the efforts of his much cleverer wife – Mrs Clinton – who most commentators of the day positioned as the brains of the outfit?

Isn't it strange how men and women are now disowning her, with the simple accusation that she would NEVER have reached 'here' by herself.

How odd.

I shouldn't dabble in political commentary, I can't seem to understand the basics.

50p

One of my colleagues bought a drink from the drinks machine earlier today. Unremarkable. Another guy's chance remark got me thinking about money. Literally.

(Odd units follow – 100 pence per Great British Pound throughout.)

He'd put a 50 pence coin into the coin slot. A 2011 coin with boxing gloves on the reverse. Not related to some outlandish English masturbatory competition, no; 'twas a reference to the 2012 London Olympics. London England.

Another colleague wondered if the thing might be worth 'something' – something more than face value.

It was. Probably still is.

I took a moment to look at eBay for current starting prices and bids.

Used examples of similar coins start at 99 pence – nearly twice face value – and head northwards, topping out at around 8 times face value. Add 100 to 250 pence postage and packing and we're at 4 to 13 times face value. OK there'll be eBay fees and the actual cost of postage to deduct, but sellers are still ahead.

Hmmm…

Digging a bit deeper, there's some with bids over 400 pence; and for mint, collectors items, there are some over 2000 pence, with equally outlandish postage charges.

Wow.

My youngest daughter has a money tin/can. It's cylindrical, has a slot in the top and a pretty design running around it and, and… a rather unfortunate design flaw. I can't check what's inside without a tin/can opener.

Destructive.

The thing I took away from this is simple: the guy had ANOTHER 50p in his pocket. It's a different world in our lifestyles-of-the-rich-and-famous bendy wire department!

Registration

Yesterday, and prior to midnight, was the deadline to register to vote in the upcoming UK Referendum. Unprecedented numbers of people (according to the government) attempted to register to vote on the day – over half a million.

And then, at 10:15pm, it all went titsup as the servers broke under the demand of, I think, 25 (or was it 50) thousand simultaneous users.

And that's how the day ended, tens of thousands of disappointed would-be voters.

The government has advised that anyone not registered should keep trying today; votes are important, see?

Er…

No.

No.

No.

If you're one of those unlucky enough to fail to complete registration less than 2 hours before the deadline, it's tough luck. Its been all over the news, social media – and almost inescapable too!

Unlucky?

No.

Inept?

Heck yes!

Servers break all the time; Black Friday, Christmas Day, New Year's Eve, when Justin Bieber walks out with a dummy/pacifier partially obscuring his vacuous visage…

It's the way the modern world works; things we literally* need to keep us alive and sane break all the time.

Don't let the fact you didn't plan well-enough in advance, and that the Prime Minister thinks it's OK to extend the deadline thus arbitrarily imposing a bigger workload on the election apparatus get in the way of personal responsibility.

Git.

(breathes)

Ahhh… a rant's better out than in.

Or, in my case, I'm voting to remain; people need protecting from themselves.


*Figuratively.

Ramadan Mubarak

Ramadan Mubarak to anyone observing it or supporting those who are! If you're fasting, take it easy, be sensible!

A guy I know reckons he'll have a six-pack by Eid-Al-Fitr. I think not, not if what I understand about the limited time available to eat is correct.

I rashly accepted his 'challenge' though. Yeah, I know it sounds frivolous, trivialising the month. No.

Yes. I'm a clockwork idiot; my waistline is heading in ENTIRELY the wrong direction.

Boxes

A roundup of things I've done, observed, experienced, liked, loathed and tolerated during the last week. Some may be reproducible. Feel free to tick/check the vacant boxes I've helpfully left next to those events that fit into YOUR life, dear reader.

[ ] Cherry-picked the reports, surveys, etc., that conform to my view of what's likely to happen before, during and after the UK European Referendum is decided.

[ ] Figured out its pointless arguing the toss with those who would leave Europe on the promise of jam the day after the day after the vote is counted and publicised. (For the day after the referendum it's obvious; we ALL get jam, cream and scones. And tea. 3 sugars please!)

[ ] Observed the Transatlantic derp grow stronger as Trump's statements grow yet wilder. We've STILL not yet reached Peak Trump, have we.

[ ] Decided that talking Heads are indeed my favourite band after all.

[ ] Failed to persuade the girls to climb the big hill to the northwest of Rochdale.

[ ] Started transforming the back garden into a bona-fide garden. Quite how we'll manage the drainage on clay soil is anyone's guess!

[ ] Picked an NFL team to follow. The San Diego Chargers. Sorry Chiefs fans!

[ ] Made lists.

[ ] Ticked/checked boxes.

[ ] Unticked/unchecked boxes.

[ ] Argued the toss with Brexiters.

[ ] Thought about reminding people about the last day to register to vote in the Europe Referendum. June 7. Tomorrow. I think.

[ ] Been unable to find our National Trust Joint membership cards, and figured out we should have Family membership now. Tsk!

[ ] Mmmm… National Trust Apple Crumble Cookies…

Hotdogs

Dinner today will be easy: hotdogs, buns to encase them, tomato ketchup. That's me and the girls accounted for.

I read the cooking instructions on the label. Bad move. Not the act of reading, no, it's what I read of the ingredients.

Mechanically-separated chicken.

I'm hoping against hope it means something like free-range does for eggs, but that the chickens wear inflatable 'skirts' to protect them against farmyard collisions.