I awoke to the news that my country, Britain, had voted to leave the EU. I was so gutted, I cried. Tarryne and I both feel that our futures are no longer secure. The pound has crashed, and along with it, the economy, and our job prospects. The referendum has divided ethnicities, generations, friends, and even families. Broken Britain was never really a thing until now. I am shocked that people believed the lies Farage and co were spouting, and were duped into thinking this is some sort of worker’s revolt. Ironic, really, since worker’s rights will be one of the first things to suffer. I feel betrayed by those who are quick to use “it’s better for the children” in political campaigns, but care little what the truth is when it really matters. David Cameron has also let us down – surprise surprise. He has abandoned us and washed his hands of the issue without giving a clear plan for what happens next. Oh well. Goodbye NHS. My brother and I are moving to Canada. Or maybe Greece, since my prospects are probably better off there now.
I didn’t particularly want to leave the hotel, I was so upset. I’m glad I did, though. Tarryne metaphorically grabbed me by the scruff of my neck and dragged me to Kata Beach. We took a bus (or glorified pick up truck) for 35 baht, and walked down to the seafront. Strangely, Russian text predominated over the usual English. Someone even greeted me with a “priv-yet” That’s a new one – I’ve never been mistaken for a Russian before.
We stopped in a cafe that had its own surf simulator. It was set on a slope, and water was jet pumped out to simulate a wave. As we drank our cocktail and drowned our sorrows, we watched some amusing Russians fall off spectacularly a few times. Compared to what the real ocean was like that day, it was very tame. Since Kata Beach lies on the unbridled Andaman Sea, the waves were the biggest we’ve ever seen. But we went in anyway, because there were loads of people bodyboarding and attempting to swim. Probably those hardy Russians again.
Walking against the waves, we both encountered some problems. Tarryne’s bikini bottoms kept falling off, whilst my swimsuit bra bit kept malfunctioning. It was quite fun, though, similar to the Bamboo Island rip tides. But the lifeguards called everybody out of the water soon after we’d gone to sunbathe, so that was that.
I sat for half an hour and thought about everything that had happened over recent weeks – the holiday, my results, and the referendum. I have a horrible feeling that 2016 will go down as a horrible year in the history books – first Britain shoots itself in the head and allows far right Boris to become PM, then America elects Trump, and the world goes to hell once more.