No one really knows what is going to happen next April when the UK will leave the EU.
If we had a government that knew the first thing about governing, we would already know the terms of our leaving. But we have a set of genuinely incompetent and ignorant fools “inebriated with the exuberance of their own verbosity” as Disraeli once said (of Gladstone, I think). So we know sod all, except that we know that they know sod all…about anything.
Of course, everyone will try to come to some sort of agreement on the most important aspects of trade and of mutual recognition of basics like driving licence and insurances, so that goods can move from Europe to this benighted island.
But, let’s be fair here, when you leave the golf club, you really can’t expect to be allowed to play a round from time to time, pop into the bar of a Friday with a few mates for a drink or six, and take your partner for dinner in the restaurant on a Saturday, all the while refusing to recognize the authority of the management committee.
Because, if you can, then all the members can do it too… and guess what happens then? Your golf club has ceased to be a club any more.
Munguin likes a lifestyle of some comfort and is most worried about the idea that he may not be able to lay his flippers on the high-quality goods to which he has become so accustomed. So our reader Kangaroo gave us an idea.
An occasional series where we will look at how you can provide for yourself (and your media mogul) with just a little forethought. Vestas has been telling up about growing your own tomatoes… and Munguin has a tree absolutely covered in apples. But what about one of life’s most important items of nourishment?
Kangaroo (not surprisingly) lives in Australia. He has been brewing his own. and here he gives a few hints on the process.
MUNGUIN'S NEW REPUBLIC 