(no subject)

[pensnest]

So, marched yesterday. We - Beast, Bun and I, BIL woke up with some rather disturbing symptoms and decided to go to the NHS walk-in centre instead - parked the car (or, well, had it parked for us, underneath a hotel) and walked to Park Lane, arriving at around 11.30am, which was weird... There didn't seem to be that many people around, probably because we are used to arriving late and joining a fully-fledged throng. And the road was still open to traffic.

But we walked down to the Hilton, and after a while the road began to fill up, and when things got started a sturdy collection of people marched in from Hyde Park, and eventually things got going. It's nice to be relatively near the front - we actually got to walk, albeit slowly, for pretty much the whole time. It did rain on us, despite my phone's promises and the deceptively bright blue sky of the morning, but never mind.

I just... I don't know. I wanted to go, wanted to be able to say I had gone, but I have so little faith that anybody with the power to do anything is taking any notice. We try, we mean it, and really, I cannot see a better way forward than holding another referendum with actual details of what we are being offered - though that of course depends on the facts being filtered through to the indifferent and the wilfully ignorant who still don't seem to have noticed what it all means. This country is horribly split. One of the best things about being on the march was that it reminded me that I cannot assume by appearances—there were people of all kinds in that crowd, from solid young men with buzz cuts to people with more grey hair than I have. (One stout-hearted lady was pushing her walker, carefully adorned with a banner.) It's so easy to feel a terrifying lack of trust in my fellow-citizens, and the march reminded me that I am very much not alone.

But we're so angry, and so tired. And I know that the shenanigans in Parliament are meant to stop the worst of the trainwreck, I know that, but dear god is it exhausting, this constant uncertainty and dread.

A piece by Chris Grey, which I had missed, makes it clear why I have been feeling extremely uneasy about the BBC's coverage of the Brexit crap. Worth looking at, especially if you'd like your spirits lowered.

*

If you'd like to be sad in a good way, there is a very beautiful piece here saying thank-you to the funeral director.

Comments

[wenchpixie]

Thank you for sharing the piece, I needed a cathartic weep, very much, this morning and that helped <3.

But we're so angry, and so tired. And I know that the shenanigans in Parliament are meant to stop the worst of the trainwreck, I know that, but dear god is it exhausting, this constant uncertainty and dread. Yes, this, so much this. I'm so weary and sickened. Uhg.

[dine]

good on you for marching! watching the train wreck from a distance is confusing and tiring enough, I can't fathom living through it, and knowing the consequences will massively affect life in so many ways

[frausorge]

Good for you for making some noise.

[chalcopyrite]

I hear you, on both the anger and the weariness. But sometimes you have to do something, anything, because the alternative of doing nothing is unconscionable.

Being reminded you're not alone is its own value, these days. ::sighs::

The Chris Grey essay goes a long way towards explaining the disquiet I'd felt about BBC coverage. Thanks for that, good to know it's . . . not just me!

[brandywine28]

I think it's natural to wonder if anyone in power is actually paying attention, but even if they're not, I admire you for trying. So there.

[turlough]

♥