Integrity

I wrote a lot today about integrity. About the failing structural integrity of our Union, how Wales now openly backs remain, how Scotland will again seek independence, how the Irish risk the return of the troubles and England? England looks for a fiddle to play, whilst we await the coronation of a buffoon who cares not one jot.
About our integrity as a people, how we've blamed everyone whilst never looking in the mirror of our souls, how we've elected the very worst of us to further their own ambitions without any thought for those they should serve. How it was us, not some bogeyman 'them', that made all the choices that brought us to here. When we don't bother to look for the truth, to read more than the headline, then yes, we're complicit.

And then as we arrived in lovely little St Quentin I listened to the only other Brits in the building applaud the behaviour of Nigel's latest self serving stunt.

We went for a walk, it seemed easier, maybe wiser than, well..
We went for a walk and came to here. We sat a long while.

How do we tell these fallen that the nation that so bravely held the line, the country that twice in one century liberated this town, how do we tell them that we chose to be represented by people who turned their back on the Ode to Joy? An anthem suggested by a holocaust survivor, chosen to represent the ideals of unity, freedom, peace and solidarity - to show hope always survives.
How do we tell the 5000 lost souls here, or the 8000 on the other side of the basilica that we apparently now believe in isolation rather than unity, that a petty point means more than principal or hope.

I have never, not once, been ashamed of my country. Dismayed, worried for it, angry, but never ashamed. I couldn't look you in the eye and say that with any integrity anymore.