On the day we leave the EU, I shall open my windows wide and play Beethoven’s Ninth as loud as I can.
I’ll stand in the street and sing the European anthem, Schiller’s Ode To Joy. I did German at school, so I know it by heart. If the neighbours object, it’ll serve them right for voting the wrong way in the referendum.
I’m letting them know I’m still a citizen of Europe.
To an old gadgee like me, the Common Market/EEC/EU was always an idealistic project. It meant French Presidents and German Chancellors shaking hands on old battlefields.
Recently the French and German signed a new treaty of mutual cooperation, though I doubt our hardline Brexiteers noticed that.
Hopefully there will be no more letters in the Echo from people like Scott Andrews, Alan Wright, and George Howe condescendingly explaining to idiots like me what the word democracy means.
We can see perfectly well what it means. It’s the will of 37% of the people.
Instead I shall read the Ladybird book of Brexit, which takes a satirical swipe at the whole sorry process (pop into Waterstone’s for your copy folks).
Schiller wrote in his Ode To Joy that all men will become brothers. Someday perhaps, but not here and not now in 2019.