The Morning After

Posted by Tania Kindersley.

After all that, it has turned into the most dazzling sunshiny day. If I were feeling only very slightly more flaky than I actually am, I would say that it was the universe, telling us it will all turn out for the best. Dr Pangloss, reporting for duty.

I stayed up until seven, because I've never seen such a curious and unpredictable election in my whole wide life. I went to bed and dozed until ten-thirty, when I woke up to find that David Dimbleby was still on the air, box fresh, in his elegant purple tie. I heard the words 'hung parliament' and 'constitutional precedent' and went back to dozing. At noon, The Dimble was still going. Paxo also appeared to be up. My mother called: 'These old men,' she said, 'surely someone should tell them to go to bed.'

'Yes,' I said. 'Quite right.'

'Well,' she said. 'I'm off to see a man about a foot.'

I am far too goofy to have any useful thoughts about last night. My only faint notion is that, despite the Clegg bubble popping, we might find that we end up with a new politics after all. None of the parties quite did what they should. Perhaps it will have a transformative effect.

In the meantime, I leave you with a lovely green collage on which to rest your poor tired eyes:

 

Happy Friday.