Nexit

Today is the exit day that was not.  The UK Government has been given 11 further days to come up with a cunning plan to avoid crashing out of the EU on 12 April.  Given that in the previous 1008 days, 23 hours and 35 minutes, the Government has come up with fuck all, I don't have much confidence.

Incidentally, I know the man who coined the term "Brexit".  This is one of my very few claims to fame.

In more parochial news, it is a little over four months until my departure.  This knowledge should create some urgency but I've done nothing so far.  In my head things are moving around, like a very cumbersome Rubik's Cube.

Somewhat impulsively, I've decided to do some stand-up comedy, on the day after I arrive back in the UK.  My friend P runs comedy nights and what better way to celebrate my re-entry into the UK than by humiliating myself publicly, in a pub?

I used to be good at parallel parking, reversing neatly into a spot with ease.  It feels like that is what I'm trying to do, except I don't really have anywhere to reverse into or, indeed, a car.