This summer is very strange. We haven’t had any sun really, but the days feel as heavy as those which require t-shirts and sun cream. It is quite a strange experience to be in a country, with no government, on the edge of crisis. The news isn’t the news, it’s the thing you bring up to remind yourself everything isn’t the same, the BBC has turned into the daily hate.

I don’t think I ever had a reason to use the word ennui without sounding like a wanker. This would be a month where the word was appropriate.

I would imagine that bar a few key posts, most posts from now till this is done will be quite rambling and reflective. It seems like it isn’t just me who is in that place.

Rereading history at a time like this is interesting. All of a sudden your reading is contextualised by dynamics we rarely get to witness and dull lists of dates and changes make absolute sense.