Post Brexit fun and fear

So there was choir yesterday. We're learning, very meticulously, some South-American Baroque music that has a delightful mix of Southern European baroque polyphony with Latin American rhythm. Double choir, very jaunty, missing barlines, sudden 6:4 in the middle of 4:4. It's non-trivial.

At one point I thought, "Why do I do this?"

I think it's an attempt to stave off dementia.

Anyway, I possibly brought it on myself because I was wearing my bright green hoodie with "CYMRU" printed on the front in ddraig goch to support the lads thrashing Italy while we sang a perky "crucifixus est"...

At one point the conductor explained some future projects.

"It would be good to have some cradle songs from folk that are not French."

"Alan", came the quick reply.

"Yes, and preferably not european."

Like a shot, "Alan!"

I put up my hood and went to my happy place.

Later we chatted about the closing of Jersy and Guernsey waters to French fishermen.

"Remember the cod wars?" I said, or rather I would have said if I could have remembered what a cod is (it's cabillaud).

Anyway, nobody did. "Sardine wars?" one friend suggested.


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