What a tumultuous two weeks. A crazy crazy 14 days that has changed the face of politics, Europe and English football forever. I woke up last Friday feeling like I was in mourning and that 'what the fuck is going on' feeling has dogged me all week. That feeling turned into simply 'what the fuck?' today.
It's 4.45pm and I'm home. I've been home since about midday because I no longer have a job. Yesterday me and about 40 other people were informed that as of July 8 our employment was ending. The reasons were 'consolidation in light of an uncertain future', 'worries over future funding' and, to paraphrase, the need to ensure established employees get the most job protection. The company were very sorry about it and have guaranteed help and support in attempting to secure new jobs etc. Another 160 people have been put on notice - all of them in the Birmingham area.
So Brexit has a victim and the irony hasn't escaped me. The last 7 weeks have yielded enough money to keep our heads above water for a while longer and the few people who know have all said I'm being remarkably sanguine about it. Well, who the fuck am I going to shout at? And what would be the point? Time to knuckle down and get back in there.
I've discovered a few things about supposed 'old friends' this week as well; none of them particularly nice. If I wasn't trying to be upbeat I'd say we're not all going to hell in a hand basket, we're already there!