The original date of Britain’s Brexit is TODAY but we’re still in the EU!
May 22nd is now the new March 29th … so for now, we are still part of the EU.
But are we? We could also be out on the 12th April!
But this 22nd of May seems like an odd date. How can we start a new era, a new chapter of a nation on a Wednesday? Shouldn’t we leave on a Monday to start afresh or on Friday at the end of a week of preparation. Politics – they don’t take these things into consideration. We can’t just from one day to the next – in the middle of the week we walk away from the Union? Most hooman relationships break up over a weekend … to allow the individuals to compose themselves over a weekend before starting the week again.
So with no success in Brussels even with two “Mays” – Fred and I were in Potters Barn after dropping George off for his x-rays – and had learnt that the Prime Minister may not be so far away. We must get to her and help her out. A we drive along, we came across Chequers!
We must knock on her door and to give our support to the Prime Minister – but alas, it wasn’t the real Chequers – the country house of the Prime Minister. Just a pub with the name. Still trying to help. What else can we do?
May’s comment: When will all this end? It just goes on and on. And those politicians are playing with our future.
But we had more important things to think about. After realising there was nothing much we can do about this whole debacle – we returned to the Royal Vet Hospital.
The latest news is that while they were doing an investigative incision on his leg – they found degenerative tissues. It was just the beginning of the disease and they made the decision to go in and do preventative surgery instead of letting the disease take over. It seemed harsh – such a major operation for a bit of degeneration. But then he had been hobbling on his leg for the last two months – which had intrigued more than one vet. George never complains and he never whines. But there were days when he couldn’t go up the stairs – and waited for me to carry him. And when we were at Cliveden, he was clearly not himself. He was quiet in the midst of all the others and he whined when we were going down the stairs. I had to carry him. So in retrospect, he was suffering quietly.
Am I rationalising my decision to let them carry out the rather major surgery? But it’s done now. There’s no better time to do it. And we now help him heal and in time he will have no need to hobble around again. We hope.
They have removed a wedge off his tibia and attached a stainless steel metal plate to it. The danger now is protecting the remaining bone and to make sure it doesn’t fracture before the metal plate fuses with the natural bodies around it. A long road ahead to recovery. All rather unexpected and a jolt to the system.