Dear Leave Voter,
I really like you. No 'but's. Honestly.
I do. Your facebook posts make me laugh out loud. I think your dog is adorable and the way you champion your kids makes me wish more children had parents like you. I admire your closeness to your family.
You're kind - I see that. You've been kind to me and I've seen you be kind to other people. I like kindness in a person. The world needs more of it.
I know you aren't racist. I've seen how angry you get when you hear people use racist language. Although I do wonder if you know about my Eastern European family members when you have a little rant about the Eastern Europeans that have moved into your area... And it's a shame we can't talk about how my husband's foreign friend has been told to 'go home' three times in the last week, without you getting cross because you think I'm saying it's your fault, and me feeling sad because, well, it makes me sad. It's complex isn't it this world we're all living in together?
Dear Leave Voter. I'm going to admit that I get as irritated by the binary view of what it means to be me, as much as you get annoyed by the 'bigoted Xenophobe' label. I didn't vote for Jeremy Corbyn. If I'm honest he depresses me. Can't put my finger on why. It might be the beige suits. I'm not sure I see a leader out there I'd stick my X on the ballot paper for. I bet you don't either. I wish you and I could have a genuine conversation about that. About why it is. About what you're looking for and what I'm looking for. You know, without you thinking I'm knitting my own yoghurt and me wondering if you're a closet Britain First-er. That would be nice, wouldn't it? Maybe we could drink gin cocktails and put the world to rights together. I know we both think Boris is a tit. That's a start, eh?
Dear Leave Voter. Do you think we'll get back on an even keel you and I? Now the genie is out of the bottle? Now everyone is so angry, and after you posted that internet meme of a baby throwing a tantrum, and I posted that snarky one about Piglet. I hope so. I liked it better when we were both posting snarky memes about Trump. There's solidarity in looking down on certain types of American, right? What's more British than that?
Maybe what's more British than that is quietly putting the pieces back together again. Keeping cheerful when on the face of it it's all going to shit. Laughing at the absurdity of it all. Having a nice cup of tea together, in silence. No need to say anything.
After all, we are the nation of stoic optimists. The embodiment of the triumph of hope over experience. You only have to look to our faithful support of our national football team, or Homebase's garden furniture sales figures to see that. If we can get back out there and persistently book a camping holiday in Cornwall every May, when historical rainfall averages tell us it's an absolute fool's errand, I'm sure we can learn to get along again.
It's what we're good at, us British. Glossing over the crap bits. Looking for the comforting, quiet unity. We don't have to make a big fuss about it. We could just start by trying, quietly, gently to remember why we like each other.
What do you say?
I really like you. No 'but's. Honestly.
I do. Your facebook posts make me laugh out loud. I think your dog is adorable and the way you champion your kids makes me wish more children had parents like you. I admire your closeness to your family.
You're kind - I see that. You've been kind to me and I've seen you be kind to other people. I like kindness in a person. The world needs more of it.
I know you aren't racist. I've seen how angry you get when you hear people use racist language. Although I do wonder if you know about my Eastern European family members when you have a little rant about the Eastern Europeans that have moved into your area... And it's a shame we can't talk about how my husband's foreign friend has been told to 'go home' three times in the last week, without you getting cross because you think I'm saying it's your fault, and me feeling sad because, well, it makes me sad. It's complex isn't it this world we're all living in together?
Dear Leave Voter. I'm going to admit that I get as irritated by the binary view of what it means to be me, as much as you get annoyed by the 'bigoted Xenophobe' label. I didn't vote for Jeremy Corbyn. If I'm honest he depresses me. Can't put my finger on why. It might be the beige suits. I'm not sure I see a leader out there I'd stick my X on the ballot paper for. I bet you don't either. I wish you and I could have a genuine conversation about that. About why it is. About what you're looking for and what I'm looking for. You know, without you thinking I'm knitting my own yoghurt and me wondering if you're a closet Britain First-er. That would be nice, wouldn't it? Maybe we could drink gin cocktails and put the world to rights together. I know we both think Boris is a tit. That's a start, eh?
Dear Leave Voter. Do you think we'll get back on an even keel you and I? Now the genie is out of the bottle? Now everyone is so angry, and after you posted that internet meme of a baby throwing a tantrum, and I posted that snarky one about Piglet. I hope so. I liked it better when we were both posting snarky memes about Trump. There's solidarity in looking down on certain types of American, right? What's more British than that?
Maybe what's more British than that is quietly putting the pieces back together again. Keeping cheerful when on the face of it it's all going to shit. Laughing at the absurdity of it all. Having a nice cup of tea together, in silence. No need to say anything.
After all, we are the nation of stoic optimists. The embodiment of the triumph of hope over experience. You only have to look to our faithful support of our national football team, or Homebase's garden furniture sales figures to see that. If we can get back out there and persistently book a camping holiday in Cornwall every May, when historical rainfall averages tell us it's an absolute fool's errand, I'm sure we can learn to get along again.
It's what we're good at, us British. Glossing over the crap bits. Looking for the comforting, quiet unity. We don't have to make a big fuss about it. We could just start by trying, quietly, gently to remember why we like each other.
What do you say?
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