It’s been exhausting – just keeping up with the news over the past couple of weeks.
This time of year we’re more used to pictures of monkeys eating ice lollies and festival-goers who are either sunburnt or caked in mud (or worse).
Here’s what I’ve learned from recent events.
A day is a long time in politics. They used to say it was a week, but there must have been inflation. Instead, we’ve gone from a going-through-the-motions referendum to the looming shadow of catastrophe and revolving doors at Westminster going so fast they’re a blur.
Just when I thought I’d take set aside a wee bit of time later to blog some thoughts on any aspect of it, the music would stop and it was all change.
Scotland really does look at things differently. Up here it really didn’t seem that there was even the outside chance of a Brexit coming to fruition. Really. A sweepstake in an office I was working at was for the percentage ‘in’ would win it by. I was so sure that I didn’t even bother buying Euros before our holiday.
We love a loser. Then Cameron resigned. Isn’t it funny how everyone suddenly feels all warm and fuzzy about the departing leader? Remember when Brown went too?
As a woman, I was torn about the prospect of a female prime minister. Not torn about the fact that we’ve got one, obviously, but that anyone would feel the need to even comment on it. Best man for the job and all that.
The first husband wore his pinstripe so well. I wish I’d written this.
Ruth Davidson would make an excellent leader. She was brilliant and gets my vote for this.
As a mother, being a mother does matter. Not in the way that Andrea Leadsom claimed though. I’m thrilled that there so many women leaders now (though being understated because we really should take it for granted). However, it’s interesting to note that May, Davison, Sturgeon, Dugdale, Merkel, Gilliard etc are all childless. Obviously, it’s a perfectly good choice for any woman (and one I occasionally wish I’d made) but begs a question or two.
We should have had a word for the opposite of Brexit. I said – to myself, so there’s no proof – that there was trouble as soon as the word “Brexit” became a thing. Something with a word is always more powerful than something that doesn’t have an easy way to describe it. We should have had a word for it, though Eurin would have been pish.
I love a bit of hand kissing. There’s something glorious about the workings of government hinging on a ceremonial visit to an elderly lady’s house for a cup of tea. Also that this tea, and the subsequent house move that it signals, can be organised at the drop of the proverbial, whereas most governmenty things, such as official documents, take an age to happen.
Meanwhile, Pokemon are back. Tired of all this, the rest of the world – those not trying not to go over the lines in adult colouring books – were out hunting non-existent cartoon creatures.