Held in limbo with nylon threads
Garrotting the heads
Of dreams and aspirations
And things I hoped to see.
In uncertain suspension
Till life is drained away from me.
I read an article in the Guardian today about the number of UK citizens who have acquired another passport. Ireland seems to be most popular with the number of applications doubling since 2016. Why you may ask? Well because of Brexit. Come the end of Match and a hard Brexit, my UK passport will only allow me 90 days in the Schengen Zone in any 180. That’s most of the countries in Europe. Most of the places I spend most of my time, or where, when Chris’s planned retirement this year happened, we were going to spend most of our time. All plans are on hold until we know what is going to happen.
Neither of us has the advantages of Irish ancestry, much as I’d love right now to conjure some long lost Grandparent, and I somewhat doubt the Danish, or perhaps Norwegian governments will look favourable on a returning Viking with distant DNA! Each day, for me, is like living on the edge of a widening sinkhole. Others out there, now play a huge part in determining my future. Perhaps, if I believed those decisions had been taken with honesty and integrity, I might have been able to come to terms with my reclassification. The country into which I was born, is no longer a place I wish to be and yet… and yet it is home, but so is Europe…