The Cunning Rustic raises an imperial pint for the Brexit.
I promise that I won’t bombard you with political posts on this blog. We all get weary of the constant nails on the media chalkboard, especially in an election year. Modern politics are generally a shallow affair and beneath the loftier ideals of the Cunning Rustic. That said, the potential blow to globalism delivered by the Brexit vote, gives me cause to smile.
The idea of the ‘Brexit’ engages me, although I left England many years ago. I have never known an England that wasn’t in the European Union. I grew up with the grumblings of silly laws from Brussels regulating against the abnormal curvature of Bananas. Years later we would see the ‘Metric Martyrs’, like Steve Thoburn, those traditional market stallholders who fought against the EU enforced conversion from imperial weights and measures to metric, only to be arrested and heavily fined.
It is of interest to see how the areas of the UK voted. Scotland and N. Ireland wished to remain and there are already talks of referendums for their departure from the Kingdom. The Scots had a shot at it recently and decided for economic reasons to stay in the UK, but now, the Scots may decide for economic reasons to leave and yoke themselves with the continent. How I wish the Scots would make these decisions based on their desire to retain their own beautiful and rich culture, rather than fiddling with their purse-strings. As for the folks of Northern Ireland, that wound runs deep and its scabs picked daily, we shall have to see if this presents a new opportunity for the bold sons and daughters of Cú Chulainn.
Of all 9 voting areas of England, only London, wished to remain. Although this was called the Brexit, it was really a statement by the English (with a tip of the hat to our Welsh cousins who also voted to leave). The White Dragon is the point of the spear, and already other European countries are ready to follow.
David Rennie, the Washington bureau chief of The Economist magazine decried the vote as being led by an “Older, Whiter, Less Educated” rural population. Of course, what he could have said was ‘The English’. Those inhabiting the countryside, who have paid their dues, failed to adhere to the indoctrination of the city schools and have seen the descent of our values and culture. The fear of economic collapse wasn’t enough to scare the English. The postwar generation lived on rationing until the 1950’s, and know how to survive it, we call it ‘Blitz Spirit’. One interesting point is that young farmers didn’t want to remain either, as they saw the EU as curtailing the freedom to farm the way they want to . The Cunning Rustic knows in his heart, that a good steak is only as far away as the pasture. Bankers know they can’t eat paper and gold.
Economies rise and fall, but The Cunning Rustic cares not. It matters only to those who worship at the altar of commerce. The sun will rise and the sun will set. The master of the factory worries about his numbers in his books, but sheep still walk the hillside and oaks still grow in the grove. Perhaps it is not an entirely bad thing to watch our wallets a little more, to learn that we can do without so many channels of television, and learn the joys of singing around the fireplace, or to barter with the fruits of our labour rather than counting copper.
Today, England spit in the eye of globalism. A spear was cast and a Saxon Shieldwall is forming as they prepare for the retaliation. We Cunning Rustics hope that others follow suit. We know there will be consequences, and we know the secret of three very powerful words.
We. Don’t. Care.