Monday 15th January
There was an American film in the Nineties called Dumb and Dumber. I didn’t watch it – the title told me enough. But just lately I am feeling numb and number. Admittedly I had what I must assume was some variant of ‘flu’. I ached all over, spent a few days in bed, was feverish and listless, had no appetite and was bored by everything I looked at, be it books or TV. Even music left me cold – so, it must have been serious.
But somehow that lethargic mood has persisted and I just feel numb and number. The Cabinet reshuffle where only two or three cards were moved about, and the, far too many surely, Jokers stayed put left me unimpressed. Even Donald Trump’s use of language doesn’t shock or surprise me at all. We seem to have become anaesthetised, to be unshockable any more. And as 2018 rolls itself out it is really much of a muchness. Don’t expect any real progress. Even Brexit will be a fudge, with I suspect, the much vaunted new trade deal pushed into the long grass. That really is Theresa May’s only hope. I suspect that if she can declare that Brexit has happened and no great disaster she will dash for a quick May 2019 election, with the still undefined trade deal hovering like the Cheshire Cat licking it’s lips as millions watch hypnotised. And the glow, the almost halo-like aura may have slipped off Jeremy’s forehead by then too. The longer he prevaricates about Brexit the harder it will be for Labour to win next time. They may well pick up a handful of seats but I suspect that won’t be quite enough. Labour may have to wait for a new Leader – undoubtedly a woman and maybe a black one (but please, not Diane) next time, before the pendulum will have swung back far enough.
And what else is there. Oh, a Royal wedding, maybe even more Royal children. The World Cup, where England will once again flatter to deceive. But at the moment it all looks quite predictably boring. As I said I am beginning to feel numb and number. Must be my age…