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Life is a Trifle

In the United Kingdom the Monarch has no real power, the constitution is unwritten, and not many people are English, not even the Queen. Now that we are out of the EU, it all seems logical, considering that we were never part of it in the first place. The question is, if we are not in Europe where are we? And, more important of all, who are we? People who believe in blood and heritage always seem to know who they are. People, who like me, believe in culture, don’t. According to my DNA test in my genes I carry the blueprint of 12 geographical regions, all in Europe, both in the very North and the very South.
More and more often I get this feeling that it’s all a big mess. Unfortunately, in my case, when I look at my two countries Italy and the UK, this felling doubles up. We live in a pastiche, some kind of sweet and messy trifle. We have jumped in and now we are sinking in hot custard. The custard is thick, the more you struggle the more you sink, but it’s sweet and slightly alcoholic, so you might as well enjoy it and take a mouthful whenever you can. The smell is good and that makes you forget the mess you are in. You look around and everybody is in it, so you think ‘it can’t be that bad’. Through the yellow custard you can’t see much, every man for himself. We eat and sink. We sink and eat. Occasionally, someone gives a speech and everybody moves in a different direction, but it’s only an optical illusion. The trifle is big with masses of custard and cream. I’d like to get out of the bowl but there is nowhere to go. I’d like to be civilized, seat at the table and have a choice of food and dessert, and some conversation with the other guests. I’m sick of the trifle, it’s too messy and too sweet. I want to get out but I am too drunk already.

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