My foxy Brexit dinner party

With Brexit political talk about to come to a happy conclusion – at least, so I thought! – I felt an urge to splash out on a dinner party.

But who to invite in such short notice? I decided to host it for the fox family that has visited the

garden for almost as long as I've been a resident.

It could be a treat for them to celebrate the end of this momentous treat in, well, sameness.

It's possible that we'll never forget the ennui of the endless sameness of political argument over whether we stay in, or leave.

An overall sameness

Then we'll be able to relive the excitement of yesteryear's wonderful surliness of Europe's customs men.

I confess I don’t really know how many of the fox family I support daily at the main meal time.

It's night when they come to the table – a garden bench – and after all, there is an overall sameness, rather like seems to be the case with many of our politicians. However, they are mostly a happy if vocal bunch and a magical reminder of the English countryside.

At precisely 2100 hours every day, I serve a variety of dried fox food – fortunately, they don’t see the cat and dog illustrations on the packets.

To spare any confusion over who it's for, the food is always served on the same plates.

The foxes often show their appreciation - after they have stolen out of the shadows - by carrying off and often burying the treats, followed by a healthy urinating on the plates.

Happily, this isn’t the custom at human dinner parties. Beeb experts consider it as a sort-of foxy thank you card.
Continues on the blogs for my ocean adventuring book, Sailing to Purgatory, at http://sailingtopurgatory.com/index.php/feeds/371-my-foxy-brexit-dinner-party