Dancing helps

Woke up with a headache. Saturday, but work to be done. Working for mes amis in Paris during the day. Then in the afternoon, a sleep. Messages with the Tobster about Brexit, we feel the same about it. Find myself looking at the news websites, for half-hourly updates, looking at Facebook, my newsfeed full of lamentation and horror, for the majority of my friends were remainers. However hard I look at this news, I cannot find a single positive thing about it. It is the most profound political crisis of my lifetime, and entirely self-inflicted.

If in doubt, drink. So off this evening with Lorraine to The Evening Star, where we met Glen, over from Greece, Richard and Steve. Really nice to see them all, and swig some real ale and catch up on the gossip. Then after an hour and a half off to Reuben and Claire's house for a party. With dancing, Lorraine and I both dancing a good deal, with the Turners, Reuben, Claire and Japhy spinning some rather good tunes. Reuben gave Lorraine several Reubentinis, made of cassis, vodka and prosecco. We walked home with our top hats askew very late. Some anguished chat about the Brexit with folks, but mainly simply a good time. Dancing helps.

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