So what to write without treading over the line into politics and polemics?  That I could only have been more depressed yesterday had there been a death of somebody close to me?  That my neighbours are now sniping at each other on Facebook?  That it does not take a genius to work out how a power vacuum, economic instability, blaming it all on somebody else and a charismatic but possibly barmy potential leader could work out?  That Scotland, rightly, will want to go it alone?  That as the son of an Italian, the grandson of a Yugoslav, the cousin of two Dutch and the uncle of two Belgians I feel personally betrayed?  Little England indeed.

Still, our credit ratings have been downgraded, petrol prices and possibly interest rates are on the way up, and The Sun and The Daily Mail now think, more than ever, that they represent vox populi (it’s ok, they won’t know what it means) whereas all they do is dictate it, so that’s all fine.  I think of the Yes, Prime Minister words about the papers and nod sagely, thinking true, how true.  History lessons will speak about this in the future, try to decipher what has happened, and it will eventually be reduced to a “tick-the-box” question in some exam, but they will only be able to write that question when this all pans out, when we know where it all leads.  With no Prime Minister worth the name and, shortly, no Leader of the Opposition, we are essentially rudderless.

Perhaps symbolically I spent yesterday afternoon clearing out the rubbish, making space on my work table, and it is not to large a leap to imagine that being a manifestation of my need for a clear head, before retreating into work, board games and a film.  I also did some sketching for the Parliament Choir concert in the autumn, although that may well now not happen if an election is called, fired off a couple of emails about another commission, and edited a few more pieces, tying up a few details.  Over the weekend I also have four performances – Te Deum Laudamus and O God Of Earth And Altar on Sunday at St. Clement Danes, and Pleasure It Is and Est Secretum in Westminster Hall at an event on Monday night to do with St. Stephen’s Chapel and the work of Nicholas Ludford.  I am meant to give one of the introductory talks at that event, but have already been advised to keep off the political grass.  Given how the talk was going to be about Ludford’s place in a divided time and how the Parly Choir brings peoples of all creeds and backgrounds together it looks as though I shall have to start from scratch.  What point information with no relevance?

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