Brucked it.

I think this says it all, really. The problem with a referendum is that every idiot gets a vote. The higher the turnout, the more idiots vote, it seems. How dare you vote on something you don't understand? Had these been the most popular searches the week before the vote, I would have been relieved. Instead, it happens afterwards, when it's too late.

There were several good reasons to vote to leave the EU. I disagreed with them, strongly, believing that we got a great deal more from the EU than we gave to it. A number of my friends voted to Leave; I felt they were wrong to do so, and still do now, but they had well considered reasons. However, there are undeniable truths to be learnt from analysis of the polls. Votes to Leave skewed heavily with increasing age. Asking younger people why they voted to Leave, and they tend to answer either that they thought it would be better for the economy, our influence or the NHS, or that they aren't really sure why. Asking older people why, they either say that they don't know why, or come out with some nonsense about "taking our country back" or "becoming independent," neither of which makes any kind of sense since we have been an independent sovereign state throughout our time in the EU.

Another trend evident from the polls is that people with better educations tended to vote Stay, while lesser educated people voted Leave. Again, that's not to say that everyone who voted to Leave is foolish, but there's a clear trend. People who voted to Leave, in general, simply do not understand what they have done. The number of people who have since expressed regret at their vote is telling, but it's too late. They should have questioned it before they voted, not after.

Generalisation is a dangerous and unfair thing, but the results are telling. The bulk of people who voted to Leave were older, clinging to an ideal of a Britain which never really existed. The worst I've heard is an idiot who skipped into my place of work, actually dancing with joy, because apparently his friends "died in the War for this." It's a level of idiocy and cultural distortion I cannot stand. WWII was a fight against fascism, that led to greater unity. The Brexit campaign was the opposite. In just the first weekend after the referendum, there has already been a marked increase in verbal abuse against immigrants and citizens of non-white backgrounds. Brexit supporters claimed that this was not a campaign of xenophobia and racism, when the evidence shows it clearly was. The worst kinds of people are already using our leaving as an excuse to let their vitriol run,

There's also the spectacular gullibility of the Brexit supporters. Farage, Hannan and the Boris promised to spend the money previously sent to the EU on the NHS; Farage retracted this immediately once the results were in. Racists and cowards who voted on the promise of a reduction of immigration have since heard from Hannan that this was never possible. People who fell for the idea that we'd have more to say in our trade agreements have since come had to accept the truth that, outside the EU, we'll have less of a say. While the scaremongering on the side of the Stay campaigners was appalling, it was better than the blind rhetoric of the Brexiters, lapping up the bile of the Murdoch press (media owned by an amoral financial tyrant who will see his fortunes improve with less EU control).

On the first day after the referendum, billions had been lost from the UK stock market. Banks were having crisis talks, having lost a quarter of their value overnight (I wonder how long I'll keep my job). The pound had dropped further against the dollar than anytime in the last thirty years. The UK has lost more money in one weekend than it spent on the EU in fifteen years. Our ability to control our destiny in Europe - a continent that we shall forever be part of - has been reduced by our blinkered decision to distance ourselves from it. There will be yet further cuts to try to cope with the fallout. Strong Leave-vote regions, such as Cornwall, are now campaigning to somehow have their EU grants retained. It's too late. You've told the EU to get lost, they aren't going to prop you up anymore. 

While the debate was filled on both sides by scaremongering and rhetoric, one thing that continually came from financial experts was the promise of fiscal chaos if the vote went to Leave. Shock horror, they were right. Imagine that. But no, people didn't want to hear that, as a virulant strain of anti-intellectualism was spearheaded by the likes of Gove. The Murdoch press told us that a vote to Leave was a vote for democracy, and people believed, instead of actually looking at the facts and seeing that there is more power to voters when it comes to EU appointments. Now we can look forward to an unelected Prime Minister, most likely that vicious ball of fuzz, Boris Johnson. A man who never expected to win, who has no plan at all in place for how to take Britain into this new era. A man who changes his allegiance as easily as his socks. A man who is a notorious and outspoken homophobe (oh yes, the protection of LGBT people in the UK is also an EU law. I'm genuinely frightened for anyone who isn't white, British and straight). 

Some people had good and considered reasons for voting to Leave. They were wrong. I don't blame them, I blame the blinkered, the gullible and the elderly who voted to destroy their own descendants' future. Maybe, after a decade of uncertainty and recession, things may stabilise and improve. Maybe England and Wales will sit alone, bankrupt and hate-filled, while Scotland and Northern Ireland take their chance to rejoin Europe and make something of their place in the world. Well done, everyone. You failed.

Farewell, Great Macedon!

It’s been a couple of years since I got to do any proper international travel, but finally, I managed to get myself out of the UK for more than a day and spent a good week in the Macedonia. December isn’t the best time of year to visit the country . I’m no fan of the cold – in fact, I despise cold weather and my immediate instinct in the presence of snow is to return to bed and hibernate until it’s warm again. So visiting the city of Skopje during the winter, when the temperature happily dips ten degree below zero on the centrigrade scale, wasn’t the best decision. However, since my sister insists on having her birthday in December, and this trip was to be an extended birthday celebration for her, that was the time we had to go.

Becca had already visited Macedonia four times. One of her closest friends, Nena, lives there. As she hadn’t seen Nena for about four years,  and I hadn’t since she was here in England a couple of years earlier than that, it was definitely long past time for a visit. It’s a place I’d never been before, which is in itself enough to make me want to go, and since Nena is one of the loveliest people anyone is ever likely to meet, I was  very much looking forward to the trip. Even if it was going to be in the snow. So, a week away in a country that most Brits haven’t even heard of, with my sister and her boyfriend (who happens to be my good friend, Jim, with whom I go way back). 

The Republic of Macedonia lies north of Greece, landlocked by its fellow Balkan states. For years it has been at the centre of a dispute with Greece over its name; most of the ancient region of Macedonia lies in modern Greece. Why this is so important, I couldn’t say; there are plenty of places in the world that share names, after all. Macedonia, the nation, is the one that shows up on sporting events as “The Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia,” which is an incredible mouthful often shortened to FYROM. Or better shortened to Macedonia, since that’s the place’s bloody name. still, calling the main airport “Alexander the Great” was perhaps not the best move if they were trying to avoid pissing off the Greeks even more.

Skopje is the capital city, up in the north of the country, not far from the border with Kosovo. We stayed in the Urban Hostel, on Mother Teresa Street . Mother Teresa being one of two famous historical figures born in Skopje, although in her time it was part of the Ottoman Empire. The other famous figure, by the way, was the Byzantine Emperor, Justinian the Great. Anyway, the hostel was fantastic; we weren’t staying the in the main hostel bit, but on the top floor in a separate apartment, but even the bunkbeds and shared rooms looked nicer than most I’ve seen in my time. Not only did they provide slippers to all the guests (immediately putting them in my top ten places to stay), but they also gave us a bottle of wine, and a pretty decadent chocolate birthday cake for my sister. You can’t be made to feel more welcome than that.

Skopje’s not a large city, so we saw a fair bit of it during our stay. The days were mostly spent happily wandering to one corner of town or another, after a healthy lie-in, taking our time and stopping off in one of the many coffee shops along the way. The Macedonian denar has a very favourable rate of exchange to the euro and the pound, so for once we all had plenty of money to spend. It’s an odd sort of city, and it apparently looks completely different to the last time Becca visited, just a few years ago. The government has gone to great lengths to revitalise the city, but a lot of this has entailed some very artificial attempts at providing visible history. There are statues everywhere, particularly in the main square, portraying everyone from Alexander to a jolly jazz band, and in every style from baroque to modern surrealist. The addition of Christmas lights only made the mixture stranger, especially considering that Christmas isn’t until January over there (Macedonia being one of the few nations that still runs its Christian fellows according to the Julian Calendar). I rather liked it. (Incidentally, apologies for the lack of photographs – Becca was camerawoman, and shall be supplying them to me in the future.)

We took in the museums, of art and city and natural history, and even the national zoo. This was, I am told, pretty horrible a few years ago, but it has happily been the recipient of much of the revit-funding and is now a decent place, with some proper pens and enclosures for the animals. A highlight of the trip has to be visiting a zoo in the snow, and seeing a pair of lions slipping about on the ice – not something I ever thought I see. Also, the rabbits seem to have the run of the place; possibly they are, in fact, in charge. Being in a zoo made me feel quite at home, even though my zookeeper experience lasted only four weeks over four years ago.

Much time was spent at the Old Bazaar, the last bastion of the Ottomans in Skopje. Galleries are held in the Turkish bathhouses, tiny bars and cafes sit amongst shops and stalls along cobbled roads, and the whole place has the most appealing atmosphere, although I was unable to buy a hat due to the shop displaying being seemingly abandoned for the week. Evidently shopkeepers can trust their fellow Skopjens, since the wares hung outside for the course of our stay and never disappeared. However, as much as we enjoyed the architecture and the shopping and the snow-sprinkled hippos, what we shall really take back with us and treasure forever is the food and drink. Nowhere have I ever felt so full. Nowhere have I ever eaten so much meat, fat and salt. I could happily have eaten kebabs and feta and chillis, and drunk Skopkso beer and local wine all week. In fact, that’s just what we did.

Some things I learned in Skopje:

-          The Cyrillic alphabet isn’t all that hard to get used to; I reckon I’d have mastered in a couple more days, although that doesn’t mean I’d have understood any of the words.

-          Fast food places sell toast – spelt TOCT – which is actually a vast, cheesy toasted sandwich of joy.

-          Ketchup is better in Macedonia.

-          The local moonshine, rakje, could be very dangerous.

-          If you order “bacon chips” in a posh restaurant, go get a huge plateful of bacon. You may, as Jim did, follow this up with a whole pork loin.

-          The authorities have tried to curb disorder and drunkenness by banning the retail sale of alcohol after 7.pm. It hasn’t worked.

-          Pretentious arty folk look just the same in England and Macedonia.

-          Young women in Macedonia are all stunningly attractive. Young men are all tall with impressive beards. Older folk are all mostly short and haggard-looking with unhappy expressions, meaning that either things were once very different there, or that a terrible change comes upon the Macedonians in their forties.

-          If you order hot chocolate in a café, you risk getting a bucket-sized mug of thick, molten milk chocolate.

-          Television in Macedonia is terrible, the local music is very odd, but all the radio stations play eighties classics and the bars and pubs play jazz.

So, we learned a little about the culture and the way of life. Most of all, however, we relaxed and braced ourselves for out nights out, when me met Nena and her friends and went for drinks. Becca already knew many of these people, but for me and Jim the faces were all new, which is a wonderful thing, and made it all rather like a week-long party. I made a lot of new friends, drank with a lot of fascinating people, and was thoroughly embarrassed by inability with even basic Macedonian and their proficiency at English. On the Friday, Becca’s birthday, we went to Nena’s home and met her wonderful and welcoming parents, and were presented with a meal which surpassed out ability to finish. My god, though, it was good. Those Macedonians know how to eat.

All good things come to an end, of course, and after seven nights were flew home – via a quick stopover in Zagreb, allowing a swift visit to the Christmas market and the chance for some boozed-up hot chocolate. Macedonia was my sixteenth country, Croatia my seventeenth (plus one if you’re counting my home in the UK). Not too bad going, although there are many, many more to visit yet.

On Sunday night it was Christmas drinks with the workmates. That made it eight nights on the trot, and I am getting far too old for that sort of behaviour. Certainly worth it, though. You’re only young-ish once.