Not a very good photo, I’m afraid, but here’s the British community in Stockholm ‘celebrating’ Brexit. It was at the excellent Tudor Arms, which is more English than an English pub. Kajsa and I had fish and chips there, of course, and two pints each of London Pride. Lots of nice Brits there, with their Swedish sambos. No-one around us mentioned Brexit. It was very crowded, hot and noisy, and closing time was 11 p.m. CET, which was an hour too early for the actual Brexit moment. We followed that on TV when we got home. Pathetic, I thought. Thank God (and Migrationsverket) for my new Swedish – and hence European – passport.
Porter’s Pensées 
I didn’t watch any of it on TV last night! Earlier in the evening, I’d had to chair a difficult meeting involving a mini exit of our own (a village AmOp group hiving off after 56 years as part of the local church). In closing the meeting I said “I you want to go and celebrate Brexit, go ahead, but I wont be coming with you; if you want to celebrate our leaving the church, go ahead, but I won’t be coming with you. Whatever you do, enjoy the rest of the evening.”
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You are welcome.
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