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I’m not quite done with my trip to the UK, but I wanted to jot down some thoughts on Brexit before flying back. Partly because blogging is much cheaper than therapy, but mostly because I don’t want my upcoming ‘nice things I did at home’ post to be overlaid with lots of doom and gloom about our national implosion.

I stayed up until 3.30am on the night of the result, as it became increasingly obvious that England & Wales had voted to leave. And the feeling in the pit of my stomach was much worse than a disappointing general election. On those nights there is a feeling of gloom, as you watch your country move down a path you wish it hadn’t chosen. But on the night of the EU Referendum, it just felt like nihilism. To feel you have won absolutely nothing from Europe or from globalisation is one thing, but voting Leave also says – with such miserable certainty – that you have no hope for your children or grandchildren either, so pull up the drawbridge and damn the lot of them.

This doesn’t mean that the country is finished, of course, although it’s quite possible that the Union is. But the vote was not won on a manifesto. There was no plan. The leaders of Leave just burned the house down and walked away. There are intellectual arguments, yes, on the right (obsessed, in a rather un-British way, with abstract metaphysics about sovereignty) and the left (keen to prove themselves useful idiots by quitting Europe’s ‘capitalist club’) but neither are why Britain voted to Leave. It’s about immigration, stupid.

I know the ‘elite’ 48% of the country who voted to Remain are now required to humble themselves at anti-migration sentiment. But surrendering to a lie won’t make it true. Reducing migration from inside or outside the European Union will not create a single job, build a single house or care for a single person. No one will win from this. Impoverishment does not enrich culture. When the reckoning comes, and the betrayal is unmasked, the rage that will erupt will be terrifying.

I am disappointed, actually, that Boris will not become Prime Minister. As a lightweight without convictions – just like Cameron – there was a good chance he would choose the easy life domestically and avoid the wilder fringes of Conservative thought. And as the leader of Leave, who never wanted to win, he had the best chance of pulling off the closest possible deal with the EU. Clearly Michael Gove came to the same conclusion, as he knifed him.

Corbyn is not worth more words. Thank goodness for Sadiq Khan.

Polling station photo courtesy Tash, in happier times

Celebrating Randi (finally!) being done with uni

• Following-up my introduction to Indiana Jones with Temple of Doom (truly awful: like some sort of misogyny vs. racism face-off) and then Last Crusade (somewhat redeeming)

• Saying goodbye to Kevin (off to the West Coast), Nolan (off to the West Coast) and Alex (thankfully not off to the West Coast). Too many goodbyes, really.

• A wonderful Indian dinner at Ellen’s (who better not ever leave us for the West Coast or I might cry)

• Eating Ethiopian food for the first time courtesy of Carrie and her mysterious alias. Turns out Ethiopian food is delicious.

• Seeing Robert and Julie again! This one gets an exclamation mark because I had to wait six months, but it was worth it.

Sharing my extensive baseball expertise with overseas visitors

Sadly, these are just things you’ll have to go without hearing about, because I urgently need to pack for my flight to the UK tomorrow. So you’ll never know, for example, that at the Sox game I managed three hot dogs to Neil’s paltry two. Sorry!

Five years ago: Here’s a top tip for Eurovision: always try and watch it with an American who’s never seen it before, and there will be an extra layer of enjoyment simply in beholding the bewilderment.

Five years later: many Americans!

Last night was Eurovision night, and in preparation for hosting a North American outreach party I did far more Eurovision homework than I’d ever done before. In addition to watching both semi-finals with Randi to get a feel for the songs this year (and disagree strongly about the merits of Belarus),  I also borrowed a bunch of European flags and put together my own hybrid team-based drinking game to introduce all of the Eurovision staples. And the investment paid off – the most fun at Eurovision I’ve ever had!

Only smiling because they don’t realise how long the voting is going to take

I did have one European ally, Emilie, who came dressed in the colours of the tricolore and brought a baguette and delicious French cheese. She also helped to explain to the crowd what on earth was going on during the voting, because it’s far too easy for a naive newcomer to assume that the best songs are about to get the most votes. Oh heavens no. (For the record, the room was mostly pro-Australia.)

The moment Poland’s entry inexplicably comes third in the public vote, and Europe is left with a Russia-Ukraine standoff

Of course, thanks to timezones and such, it wasn’t very late at all once Ukraine were eventually crowned the winner. But I’d already had some of the dangerous Moldovan vodka which Alex donated to the Eurovision cause, and so nothing else at all was accomplished that day.

If I were sorry, it would be a different story. But I’m not sorry.

OK, so it took me nearly two years to make it to a Cubs game. In my defence, I picked a good time to go see them. As Carolyn excitedly explained to me, the Cubs are on a bit of a roll right now, and indeed they beat the Nationals handily on Thursday night. Once the batting practice was over (because I don’t like a volley of baseballs heading in my general direction) it was lots of fun, and not just because of the adorable song bit in the seventh inning. (Since the Cubs won, there was a bonus adorable song at the end too.)

Not pictured below is ‘Grand Slam BBQ Twist’ (pulled pork together with mac and cheese) which I ate because I slavishly follow Todd’s lead in such things.

Baseball!

Pictured after batting practice had ended. Because we aren’t ducking.

Team Cubs

Sport done, back to theatre: Randi and I both really enjoyed Even Longer and Farther Away on Saturday night. The play takes place inside a (semi-magical) resort on the Appalachian mountain trail while the audience sits scattered among the tables on the set itself, which creates the highly immersive illusion that you just happened to be there one night to have a drink and eavesdrop on the storytelling. (And from a purely logistical standpoint, it certainly seems easier than actually hiking the Appalachian mountain trail.) Cheaper to drink at the theatre than a baseball game, too!

Do you want more ability for complex thought? Would it be nice to be able to express feelings through talking? How about a stronger sense of right and wrong?

If any of the above appeals to you, you might want to consider turning twelve, as this blog did yesterday. Happy birthday blog! And thank you to those who came to its low-key pizza-and-wine birthday party last night 😉

I don’t have a photo of my non-corporeal blog celebrating, so have my twelfth birthday instead

The future is not all plain sailing, however. Expect ‘more moodiness’, ‘less affection towards parents’ and even ‘sadness and depression’. So if you’ve been reading this blog since the beginning, you might want to sit out the next couple of years until it comes out the other side of adolescence.