It’s not me, it’s EU
“Some of my best friends are British...”
A despondent Italian in London reflects on the highs and lows of a life lived in the United Kingdom as Britain negotiates its messy, acrimonious break-up with the European Union. TL;DR? I’m sorry…
Not many people outside my immediate circle of confidants and co-workers know this, because I’m inclined not to broadcast the fact to everyone I meet these days, but I’m an Italian national. I’ve been exercising my EU freedom of movement treaty rights to live quietly in England since the mid 1990s, when things were a bit different. Back then John Major was prime minister, you could smoke in pubs and Wi-Fi hadn’t been invented yet. I can remember what it was like when the IRA used to blow stuff up, a Zone 1-4 travelcard cost just £3.30 and Ken Livingstone could get through a day without name-dropping Hitler eight times before breakfast.
The United Kingdom has been my home for my entire adult life and while it’s had its ups and downs before, right now it’s in a bit of a pickle. As the Article 50 egg timer counts inexorably down to Britain’s exit from the European Union, the unedifying imbroglio in which we’re all ensnared has prompted me to do some long overdue…
