I’m decided. That’s it. No more deliberation. I am now in possession of the one key fact I need to be sure which way to vote tomorrow.
NB: for my non-UK readers – we are currently on the brink of deciding as a nation whether to ditch our current friendship group coz they keep doing things that are dead annoying like letting loads of people gate-crash our parties and being all controlly and making us feel inferior when we should be always superior coz we invented the Dyson and the Wetherspoons chain and the JCB and all we want is to be GREAT Britain again and ditch the NHS and get back to being allowed to be racist and make sure we don’t ever have to see a ‘dusky-faced’ person on the school-run or God forbid in our government and don’t have to abide by really pissy laws like making sure people get paid properly and don’t have to accept the huge amounts of funding we receive for stuff like helping disabled people or poor people because what we want, what we really, really want is to make new friends who have appalling human-rights records but will help us make a ton of cash.
Or we can just, you know, carry on playing nicely together.
I am a little deranged with lack of sleep at the mo having welcomed back my regular 4am anxiety attack. It started when the cat sat on my face and wouldn’t get off and I thought: she’s never done this before, perhaps she’s trying to tell you something like the house is on fire or one of your kids is dying because your youngest went to sleep crying again and maybe he wasn’t just being a dick but does, in fact, have a deadly virus and is right now fighting for breath in his little bed and so you must get up now and check his airways and on the way to his room you must imagine the scene of him being dead and play it out in your mind and wonder if you will scream or just die on the spot.
He was fine. So was eldest. So was the house. But I was now in a marathon of deep-breathing and water-sipping and trying not to wake Gwyneth while I read online about poor Cliff Richard who has lost far too much weight after his ordeal and that Jo Cox MP who sounded like a brilliant person and when her youngest child sqwaked in the house of commons I thought I would explode with grief and what about actress Selma Blair who got stretchered off a plane after being hammered and disorderly but who I’ve kinda loved ever since she described motherhood as the most horrendous thing that had ever happened to her – is she ok?
So knackeredly deranged am I, that this morning when I listened to David Cameron on the radio, I really quite warmed to him. John Humphries was doing alot of interrupting and after a bit Dave pleaded, “just gimme two seconds” and it made him seem a bit humanish and then he did a funny little breathing thing mid-sentence which made him sound all anxious, like me.
I’m anxious about the cat. I’m anxious about my kids. I’m anxious about work and money and that new cough I’ve developed and my weight. I’m worried about Cliff. I’m worried about Jo Cox’s kids. I’m worried about Selma. And now I’m (a teeny bit) worried about Dave.
But one thing I am NOT worried about, am NOT anxiously losing sleep over, is how to vote tomorrow. Because I have the only fact you need to finally nail it:
The boss of the Majestic Wine company says that if we leave the EU, the price of wine will sky-rocket.
Remain people. For my sake, REMAIN…