Backwards to blue

Today, while I was working, R and M travelled to London to get M’s new blue passport, her old one being just about to expire. The sight of it makes me angry. To think of everything we have given up in terms of our freedoms to be where we want to be in Europe because of a ridiculous notion that we would be better off insulated from our neighbours, and in pursuit of a fantasy that everything was better when our passports were blue is both sad and pathetic. I dread the day when I have to get one of my own.