I am in the midst of a typical English summer, cloudy, muggy and drizzly and not very warm and not as warm as I like it to be. The weather lady on television keeps promising us skies of sunny spells, but here, in the midlands, they seem to have been swallowed up by murky clouds.

By the time you read this you will know whether Britain is in or out of the European Union. The debate about ‘leave’ or ‘remain’ has been fierce and furious. The Brexits had the belief that Britain was worse now than at some point in the distant past. Many middle-aged, middle-class, middle-brow people became emotional and shouted, "Give us our country back; I want my country back, all I want is my country back."

One of the funniest and I must add, derisory rebuttals I read was written by A. A. Gill, the renowned Gastronome:

"Wanting a country back is the constant mantra of the oaties. Of course, I know what they mean. We all know what they mean. They mean back from Johnny Foreigner, back from the future, back to back, bosky hedges and dry storm walls and country lanes and church bells and warm beer and skittles. Back to vicar-and-tarts parties and Carry On fart jokes and herbaceous borders and cars called Morris. Back to Victoria sponge and 22 yards to a wicket and 3 feet to a yard, back to make ado and mend and smiling bravely and biting your lip and suffering in silence and patronizing foreigners with pity".

The dream of Brexit isn’t that we might be able to make a brighter, new, energetic Britain, it’s a desire to shuffle back to a regret-curdled, inward-looking yesterday. In the Brexit fantasy the best we can hope for is to knock out all the work-all-hours foreigners and become caretakers to our own past in this self-congratulatory island of moaning and pomposity.

***

I am not sure whether it is a good thing or bad thing but I have just learned that 50 per cent of the children born in the developed world today will live to be 105-years-old before they go to the next world. If you are in your 50s today you can expect to live into your 90s. The process of two and three year increase in life expectancy has been going on for 200 years. The Queen of England and her husband are constantly leading the way. She has just turned 90 and Prince Philip 95. In England now it takes a staff of seven to send the Queen’s birthday messages to people on their hundredth birthday. Ten years ago only one person did the job.

Incidentally, in Japan there are so many centenarians -- over 60,000 -- that they have given up the tradition of sending them silver dishes. Reaching a hundred is now no big deal.

Financial experts have worked out that longevity is a very expensive business. For people retiring at the age of 65, 30 years (or more) of retired life have to be financed. In order to get 50 per cent of your last salary a man would have to work until he is 85.

A working man in England has a three stage life -- education, work and retirement. If he is lucky enough to die at 70 he only has to save four per cent of his income throughout his working life, but with a life expectancy of a hundred, he would have to save 25 per cent of his income -- hoping that he would be kept employed for at least another 30 years

***

As elsewhere in the world the race for the forthcoming presidential elections in America is being viewed with a keen interest in England as well. Slowly, but gradually, almost every political or non-political commentator is accepting the fact the real-estate tycoon, Trump might be seated in the White House next November. It is known to all of us that the independent voters will turn the tide for either Clinton or Trump.

The vibes reaching here are that American votes are sick of politics. This is interpreted as a real opportunity for Trump.

According to a new Wall Street poll, voters rate Trump above Clinton when it comes to dealing with Wall Street and the economy. Of voters who are feeling a lot of effects from the recession 56 per cent favour Trump.

Another new development which is causing some concern to the saner people here is that after Bernie Sanders was edged out of the Democratic nomination, a quarter of his supporters are saying that in a Clinton-Trump contest they would either stay at home or vote for Trump.

Trump is, currently, narrowly ahead of Clinton in the polls. He is now playing the Corruption Card, that is to say, he is asserting that the Clintons, having left the White House when they were all but broke, and their Foundation has accumulated tens of millions of dollars. Coming from a man who is known for having found a university whose sole aim has been to teach its students ways and means of getting rich by investing other people’s money into speculative ventures is not just cheek but high dudgeon. However, it is not inconceivable that in November, America chooses to elect the monstrous offspring of Richard Nixon, George Wallace and Barry Goldwater.

***

An ex-colleague of mine in Central Television has sent me a circular letter knowing that I, too, have joined the ranks of senior citizens. I quote:

"Senior citizens are constantly being criticized for every conceivable deficiency of the modern world, real or imaginary. We know that we take responsibility for all we have done and do not try to blame others. However, upon reflection we would like to point out that it was NOT senior citizens;

who took,

the melody out of music,

the courtesy out of driving,

the romance out of love,

the civility out of behavior,

the refinement out of language,

Yes, I am a SENIOR CITIZEN,

I am the life of the party…

even if lasts until 8 p.m,

I am awake many hours before

my body allows me to get up,

I am smiling all the time because,

I can’t hear a thing you are saying,

I am wrinkled, saggy, lumpy and,

That’s my left leg.

Now if I could only remember who sent it to me, I wouldn’t send it back to them or maybe I should send it to all my friends anyway. They wouldn’t remember even if they did send it.