c'est la vie

A frosty start to the new year around these parts. Still, there's a hint of sunlight on the distant fields.

We are so far from the lorry parks of Kent that it will only be if grocery shortages start to come our way that I think we'd notice. 

I did spot the signage on the motorways over the Christmas period, helpfully denoting which Tier we were driving through (Mainly Tier 2, although that would have changed by now to mainly Tier 4). 

And like just before our trip to Iceland earlier in the pre-lockdown year, we were subjected to other sudden hotel closures and considerable re-routing to stay safe and legal.

Then, the actual transfer agreement came along without much fanfare. 

I guess everyone was bored and I can't work out what happened when, according to our thumbs-up premier, we seemed to get the deal of the century despite all of the earlier noisy misgivings. 

It almost seems too good to be true although I suppose the Free Trade Zone aspects were slipped through in a separate paper- 'Singapore on steroids' - free-market, pro-business economy, as Martin Sorrell positioned it to Downing Street. 

Well, it was clearly no failure of statecraft and an oven-ready deal in a million. 

We can already notice most politicians' speeches peppered with 'British discoveries' and 'British inventions' so it must all be true. 

Johnson's own family are running to the French hills, with his dad Stanley already applying for a French passport and Boris' sister Rachel indicating she'd like to follow if her father gets the French papers. 

On va s'aimer, on va danser 

Oui c'est la vie, la la la la la