I woke up in the middle of the night and turned over and the bed started shaking violently. I leapt up, my instinctive thought to make for the outdoors. The Gentleman Friend also woke and said, sleepily, ‘earthquake?’ I paused and thought, still half asleep, I am not in Pakistan where the houses are made of concrete, but in New Zealand where they are made of wooden, no in Hawaii but it is still made of wood and it is wobbling harder than I am used to. The earthquake stopped and we went back to sleep. It was only about 5.5 in magnitude but just a few kilometres away, so felt quite bouncy.
In the morning we woke to no electricity, a scheduled cut, so went to a cafe to work and have breakfast. Here we received news of the appalling Brexit proceedings. I suppose there is hope now that Article 50 might well be reversed, but it still looks difficult and it immensely dispiriting anyway. The best thing about Brexit has been the heights of disgusted eloquence to which writers have risen.
In more interesting news, how robots guarded relics of the Buddha, though I am not sure that the West in it is much more than ‘far away strange place’, not the actual home of robots.