- Mon May 13, 2019 7:22 am
I love this country. I love its mountains and its rugged coasts. I love its unique beer traditions, where a range of traditional brews from around the country are readily available and don't need to be sought out in remote locations. I even love our climate which is seldom too cold, not too often too hot and not for too long, and very very rarely homicidal. I have hitherto never really understood why anyone would move to somewhere else where they need to learn a new language, which will inevitably be too hot, too cold, possibly both at different times of the year, where the mountains are too big to get to the top of in a morning and still be down in the pub in the valley before teatime, and have rubbish beer and a dearth of Stilton and mature cheddar.
But caught between a Corbyn who (and I'm not revisiting the whole Winegums vs. everyone else debate) doesn't shall we say come across as a totally safe pair of hands in No 10, and the Tory shower who are usually the best of an inevitably bad lot but God knows if the front contenders now are the best it says very little for the rest, and a rising populist far-right who've latched onto Brexit like a python coiling round a pig, I start to wonder. I think the solution might be to get my Welsh up to scratch, move to Gwynedd and campaign for an independent Wales in the EU.
Might as well ask the bloody cat.