And Then A Rubbish Photo...

As a way of drawing a line below the Leave poster posts, while out for a run this morning - that’s what we call a drive in a car here – we passed through a small village to find a layby, just outside, had been taken over by Leave supporters. And the verge across the road.

The traffic was a steady flow so I couldn’t pull over thus the photo was the best I could do using a phone – and how cleaver is that then; taking pictures with a phone – one handed, while trying to maintain control of the car with the other hand while doing an sedentary, if somewhat erratic, sixty.

Say what now? That’s against the law? I thought that was just using a phone as a phone to make phone calls. I thought using a phone as a camera was allowed. You live and learn and nearly die in the process eh?

Anyhoo, the picture doesn’t do justice to the festive look of the scene, with much smiling and waving of signs, hands and Union Jacks from the gathering, considerably larger than my poor photo would suggest, of all ages - nor can you hear the cacophony of car horn hoots of approval.

           

I can only assume that Dave’s pitiful performance on TV earlier in the day didn’t do much to dent those folks resolve. Probably served to strengthen it in fact.

Did you see Dave of the Living Dead ducking and diving on TV? When asked if he thought it was right to push the fear button all the time he responded by saying that he felt it was the right thing to do to warn the British people how utterly useless he knows he’d be trying to run stuff himself and how the prospect of leaving and having to do that all on his own is giving him sleepless nights.

While watching that I once again realised, depressingly, how small a voice us down here have; pretty much to the point of being voiceless. However, that close encounter of the layby Leave kind lifted my spirits immeasurably.

After all the fear, I’m starting to wonder if that EU in/out thingy has morphed into just an opportunity for us down here to give the political elite up there, of all persuasions, an all-mighty kicking.

Quote;  Henri Cartier-Bresson.

“Your first 10,000 photographs are your worst.”