After multiple false starts, it finally happened. The last day of January 2020 was the date when the country of our birth and nurture left the cradling warmth of the European bosom that had held it for so many years. Previously, the March 2019 deadline had come and gone, our earlier Brexit party had been more a celebration of political incompetence than final curtain. This time nothing could arrest the foolishness of our politicians. Brexit, the reason behind our last 18 months of relocation, renovation and outright effort, was upon us. We were leaving.

Hubris to the right and hubris to the left. Over the previous years, posturing liars driving a downward transformation of our economy and world status were perfectly matched by fantasists led by a man adept only at talking his way into a paper bag. Liberal and European fraternalistic principles sacrificed on multiple altars of, twisted logic, racism, anti-Semitism and rank incompetence.

Of course, for us the game is not over. We are stuck in an existential no-person’s land, at the mercy of attack and counterattack. The dreadful deed, now completed with little in the way of reinforcements or reserves, requires lines of barbed wire to the front whilst our rear is open to the encroaching forces of deregulation, chlorine and unaffordable medicines. Beyond the wire, potentially reprisal fodder, stand those of us still wedded to the European ideal but through accident of birth now fair game for our erstwhile allies. Innocents in the crossfire.

During our last 18 months we have made many new friends of all nationalities. Mostly, unfortunately, our non-British neighbours regard us with incredulity. They seek explanations which we find hard to elucidate. It is as difficult for us to explain cultural prejudice as it is rank incompetence. Almost impossible to talk about the false gods of colonial memory, about misplaced anger from those left behind, the gullibility of the desperate and the insidious power of a press tethered to the desires of billionaire proprietors.

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We will steadfastly pursue our dream through this nightmare. Hold close our beliefs in equality and fraternity. Establish a home in the heart of an ancient settlement where French friends welcome us, bestow gifts on us from their gardens and seek to include us in their multiple societies and associations. Helping to breathe additional life into a community, to give as much as we receive and to avoid the stereotype of the Brit holidaying abroad as if the rest of the world was merely a temporary playground, to be abused and soiled as an act of modern conquest.

It will cost us more than we had anticipated. Reciprocal arrangements on healthcare are likely to detonate as collateral damage. Freedom of movement will be curtailed. It will be harder to assure our French administrators that our intentions are pure and not associated with the poisonous bile coming from across the cliffs of Dover. 

But we will strive on. Our personal worlds will not be reduced. We just must be careful now. Our words and behaviours will be judged more harshly. We will need to be more gentle but also firm when talking to those encouraged by watching our leaders, who assume we are in step with them. But we will do it. Because our European future goes well beyond the myopic utterings of a country now so lost to us.

We ‘remain’ believers in the power of community, the strength of diverse peoples and the security of friendships. Our country may be foreign to these ‘others’. On January the 31st 2020 it became more foreign to us too

Thick skins and tin hats.