Poisoned Egnep

Penge is a ‘local version of Chernobyl’.

Not, I’m relieved to say, the area of south London which has been my home for about 12 years, but a description of a township in South Africa which has been scarred by decades of asbestos mining.

What began as a bit of fun, discovering that London's Penge has a namesake more than 8,100 miles away – with its own makeshift cable car across a river – became more tragic as it became clear generations of families have suffered from poisoning in the filthy trade.

I’ve tried to find out who named the place but have had no success yet. The area was mapped by a geologist called Hall (again, I'm still struggling to establish his first name) in 1907 and it was he who located the brown asbestos which became the area’s main industry.

Mining began in either 1910 or 1914 by two companies, one called Asbestos Mines of South Africa (AMOSA), from which the word Amosite – the trade name for brown asbestos – derives, and Egnep Limited – obviously Penge spelt backwards. It seems reasonable to assume whoever set up Egnep Ltd had strong links to our area.

By 1925, the companies were incorporated into the Cape Asbestos Company Limited where they proved to be hugely profitable over successive decades.

The chairman of Cape, an L Breitmeyer, visited in 1929 and was clearly stirred by what he saw. At the AGM in Holborn, according to The Times, he said:

£30,000 is the equivalent to about £1.8million in today's money.

In 1959, its annual report found that ‘the successful outcome of our exertions at Penge is clearly of great importance to the Group’.

Even in 1970, the Transvaal Consolidated Land company, to which Cape gradually sold off its asbestos mining interests, reported that its ‘main source of royalty income is the amosite asbestos deposit at Penge in the northern Transvaal, which is expected to provide a satisfactory income for many years’.

On September 30, 1981, The Times reported that South African mining company Gencor had offered to buy the asbestos interests of Transvaal Consolidated Land in a deal worth about £12million noting that TCL had earned about £1.5m from the Penge mines and another site.

The mine finally closed in 1992, 24 years after Cape’s notorious Barking factory in London sealed its doors due to the levels of asbestos disease suffered by its workers.

Regulations on working with asbestos began in Britain in 1931 but workers Penge, South Africa, did not see any benefits and were sometimes were exposed to ‘up to thirty times the legal limit’ of asbestos in Britain.

A site visit in 1949 by the Silicosis Medical Bureau reported that:

‘Exposures were crude and unchecked. I found young children... in large shipping bags, trampling down fluffy amosite asbestos which all day long came cascading down over their heads. They were kept stepping lively by a burly supervisor with a hefty whip’. 

Several of these children later developed asbestosis before the age of 12.

A 1999 story in The Guardian said that by 1960 South African surveys ‘showed a link between asbestos exposure and mesothelioma, but circulation was restricted, seemingly with the connivance of the industry.

In 2007, Laurie Kazan-Allen, who has spent decades campaigning for those affected by asbestos poisoning noted:

'Before it was closed in 1992, the world's largest amosite asbestos mine had operated for over 90 years in Penge. When the mine was shut, thousands of local people occupied the mine's buildings and 250 houses previously inhabited by former workers'.

And she went on to quote Steven Donohue, the acting head of the Department of Community Health:

'Gross asbestos contamination is clearly not confined to the mine dumps. Penge is an ongoing environmental health disaster and should be deemed permanently uninhabitable... Asbestos waste is widespread around the village and is still detectable in water from the Olifants River, which flows past the village.'

But people still live there. Other forms of mining continue nearby and I'm very grateful to live in our lovely, friendly, neighbourhood, as, in comparison, its problems pale into insignificance.

London faces losing a vital link to its history

The history of a great city can be charted in its architecture and London is conspicuously fortunate to be awash with revered sites, to which thousands of tourists flock every year and which we can cherish as signs of the grand sweep and the incidental details of our history.

It isn’t just monuments like St Paul’s Cathedral, Westminster Abbey or the Tower of London – occupied and dominated across centuries by monarchs, power and wealth – which are crucial to understanding London’s long history; so too are smaller buildings and spaces, those of a domestic scale which reveal how people lived and the layers of society and which map the evolution of our social, economic and cultural lives. Market squares, cottages built for manual workers, weavers, servants and the growing population; alleyways, pubs, churches, chapels, hidden archways, riverside staircases, canals, docks:  all offer the corner of a veil which can be lifted, revealing how the common man and woman existed. More often than not, we can see aspects of our own lives in theirs and reflect how we might have struggled facing the every-day challenges in the environment of a huge, growing, turbulent capital city.

And it is these, perhaps less immediately appreciable, sometimes more anonymous, features which are confronted with the greatest threats to their existence.  As London grows into an ever bigger global city, inviting investors with big ambitions and bigger wallets from across the world, we sometimes fail to notice what we are losing before it is too late. A cursory glimpse of the City of London and one might still be able to delineate the pattern of alleyways that illuminates something  of an ancient past, but its buildings increasingly do not; skyscrapers grow higher and in ever more bold, unsympathetic, shapes.

In Spitalfields, despite a battle lasting years, the British Land development of Norton Folgate is going ahead – a result of then mayor of London, Boris Johnson, overturning a local planning decision – demolishing ‘more than 80% of the fabric’ of the site, despite being in a Conservation Area. Moreover, Mr Johnson’s decision appears to have alerted other developers that such a status offers little protection to the modest, but beautiful.

And now, planners are seeking to demolish an 18^th century weavers’ cottage, No. 3 Club Row.

No. 3 Club Row

In his magisterial ‘Spitalfields’, published in 2017, Dan Cruickshank describes the legible history of the, ‘handful of streets that constitute’ the area, the, ‘religious strife, civil conflict, waves of immigration, the rise and fall of industry, great prosperity and grinding poverty.’   

In particular, Cruickshank highlights the survival of a pair of houses, ‘3 and 5 Club Row, dating from 1764-5’, describing them as ‘remarkable’. He adds: 

‘They are three storeys high above a basement, each presenting to the street one wide window per floor… they are little altered examples of the humble houses in which Georgian journeymen silk weavers lived and worked… The very few early buildings that survive on these small estates in north Spitalfields – notably the pairs of houses in Club Row and in [nearby] Redchurch Street – are the fragmentary remains of a lost Georgian Spitalfields.’

He says that these buildings were once in their thousands around Spitalfields, Bethnal Green and Shoreditch. And he adds:

‘Their architecture was humble and unglamorous – so in consequence unappreciated, undervalued and unprotected. Yet they were also fascinating social documents …. Now there are barely two dozen such buildings left in Spitalfields.’

One would have thought that the purpose of a Conservation Area designation would be to protect these rare insights into our past and into such a crucial London trade, but faced with powerful investors resistance can be difficult.

The backers of the redevelopment of 3 Club Row claim, in their heritage statement, that the building is ‘innocuous’ (whatever that means) and the ‘growing vacancy and derelict appearance of the building has made the corner site detrimental to the quality and character of the area’. Indeed, it argues that the building detracts from the Conservation Area itself and the setting of a nearby listed building, thus apparently pandering to the specious notion that ‘conservation’ should be concerned only with the great and showily glorious. It is further claimed that, the current building is ‘not suited to the uses of existing and forecast requirements of users/the community’ and the replacement, 5-storey building, will see the ‘active regeneration of this site’.

The local community, however, appears not to agree. Already the application has received 140 comments and a vigorous campaign against the development has been launched. And their campaigning has been noticed locally, at least, as the local council, Tower Hamlets, has issued a temporary Building Preservation Notice for six months as Historic England decides whether or not to list the building.

As Historic England loudly proclaims ‘We protect, champion and save places that define who we are’; one hopes that local feelings will be heard.

What can be done to save what little is left of Chaucer’s London, huddled in the streets near Southwark Cathedral, Borough High Street and London Bridge, is less clear. Once the only crossing point into the City, the roads around Borough High Street became something of a wild border town; rowdy hostelries, brothels, inns and theatres emerged, offering entertainments and attractions forbidden on the other side of the Thames.

Spur Inn Yard today

Just one of London’s great gallery inns survives In Borough High Street, The George, now managed by the National Trust (Pete Brown’s excellent ‘Shakespeare’s Pub:  A BarstoolHistory of London’ offers a biography of the pub and a fascinating history of the surrounding area), but the memory of others lingers on in the names of alleyways. There’s Kings Head Yard, which weaves round into White Hart Yard, Spur Inn Yard and Talbot Yard, once home to the Tabard Inn, where Chaucer’s Pilgrims gathered on their way to Canterbury

In a recent article for ‘Country Life’, architect Ptolemy Dean appealed for the protection of the area as developers erase its character. He wrote:

‘Preserved by a mixture of decline and neglect, the distinctive character of this area has not been extinguished by the Great Southwark Fire of 1676, the imposition of Victorian railways and roads or later bomb damage… As a consequence Borough High Street has been a designated Conservation Area since 1968’.

But it seems that we can, today, wreak damage that none of our predecessors has managed.  King’s College London recently, ‘destroyed the intimate character of the former Spur Inn Yard’, despite its protective designation, with a development that included a supermarket and a hotel, with ‘the total loss of the old covered arch entrance to Spur Inn’.

Mr. Dean notes that the destruction does not stop here:

‘Now, KCL has further applied for permission to create a four-block “student village”. The tallest “village” building will rise 12 storeys. These will overshadow The George and destroy the neighbouring Talbot Yard where two 19^th-century hop warehouses, much mutilated, but potentially recoverable, will be demolished in the process.’

And Mr Dean fears worse is to come. He notes that the, ‘enclosed intimacy of Kings Head Yard is one of the best surviving alleyways that also still contains an inn’. But, ambitious plans are being laid.

Great Portland Estates is planning ‘New City Court’, a 373,900 sq ft redevelopment that wants to ‘provide generous and accessible new public spaces and routes’ and a 139m purpose-built office block, ‘equivalent height to Guy’s Tower adjacent to our site’.  It will be the latest high rise building now dwarfing the low level heritage, The Shard being the most conspicuous example.

While an environmental impact assessment was put to planning last year, a full planning application has yet to be submitted though it is, reportedly, hoped that building will start in 2022.

To this development, Kings Head Yard is ‘little more than a service route for the site and other buildings along it…. Our proposal for the site includes reinstating the yard arrangement and to improve accessibility and journeys through the site’.

But for Mr Dean – and surely, for so many of us – the ‘street pattern of Southwark is intrinsic to its particular character and it’s sad to see it ignorantly, greedily and ineptly destroyed’.  Dean concludes, ruefully:

‘With such forces raised against it, however, only a miracle can save it now.’

The richness of our collective history owes so much to places and spaces such as 3 Club Row, The George and Kings Head Yard. It is crucial that Conservation Areas are enforced and organisations like Historic England must reflect and act upon their responsibilities and it remains up to society to remember and treasure these artefacts while we still can.  Whilst it might be much easier to recognise and enjoy ever-more ambitious – and often coarse – skyscrapers and showy developments, do we really want to efface, clean up, make more ‘useful’ – and otherwise destroy – all the history of our multifarious, picturesque, highly distinctive and complicated capital city?  There are powerful stories embodied in its modest buildings, streets and inconvenient corners.  We should relish them.

At least Trump won’t threaten the corgis

The Queen greets President Mobutu on platform 2
at London Victoria

A Yorkshire Terrier called Cara sparked a minor diplomatic panic in 1973 when it emerged the dog had been smuggled into Britain from abroad, bypassing the country's strict quarantine laws, and could potentially come within biting distance of the Queen's prized corgis.

The dog had sneaked along with the party accompanying President Mobutu Sese Seko as he came to the UK that year, blessed with the honour of a state visit. Cara was first noticed at Gatwick Airport but was still allowed to reach Buckingham Palace.

There, according to a Times report at the time, the rules were explained to the Zairean ruler and he promptly ordered the dog to be dispatched to his country's embassy in Brussels until the visit was over.

The story reassuringly, added: 

‘During its four-hour stay at Buckingham Palace Cara remained in the Zaire suite and did not, according to a Palace spokesman, come into contact with the Queen’s corgis or any other animal.’ 

Phew!

As Mobutu's sojourn here shows, invariably, controversy accompanies state visits as reliably as night follows day.

And the impending state visit of the president of the United States to this country has got an awful lot of people, on all sides of the argument, very angry incredibly quickly.

It is inevitable that Donald Trump's arrival will prompt enormous demonstrations in the capital and they will do their best to disrupt his visit wherever they can. And the visit’s announcement triggered protests from the Labour Party with shadow foreign secretary Emily Thornberry saying:

‘This is a president who has systematically assaulted all the shared values that unite our two countries, and unless Theresa May is finally going to stand up to him and object to that behaviour, she has no business wasting taxpayers’ money on all the pomp, ceremony and policing costs that will come with this visit.’ 

Meanwhile, on the opposing side many are lining up to accuse those planning to demonstrate of petty politics, when our alliance with the US, especially post-Brexit, is undoubtedly critical, and hypocrisy for failing to stage similar demonstrations against previous unsavoury visitors including President Xi Jinping in 2015 and the three-day non-state visit of Saudi crown prince Mohammed bin Salman in 2018.

Ross Clark in the Telegraph, pondering whether Mr Trump would be afforded the offer of addressing bother Houses of Parliament, wrote it ‘would be foolish and hypocritical for the Speaker to carry out his threat’ [to deny the US president such a privilege]. Adding:

‘…not least because he would inevitably be reminded of the oleaginous speech he made to Chinese President Xi Jinping before that leader was invited to address members of the Commons and Lords in October 2015. I don’t criticise Bercow for his toe-curling performance on that occasion. He was simply doing his job in welcoming a foreign leader whom the government had invited to Britain. Bercow was paying homage not to the individual but to the office he holds – as leader of the world’s second largest economy and a country with whom it is vital that we do business if we are to avoid global conflict.’

For the Queen, of course, the latest controversial welcome will hardly cause a ripple, she has seen it all before, and not just with Mobutu. Since succeeding to the throne in 1952 she has had to host a steady trickle of thoroughly unpleasant world leaders including Mobutu, Nicolae Ceausescu, Hasting Banda and Robert Mugabe.

Whether protests greeted Zaire's president, I haven't been able to establish but it's safe to say if they occurred, they were ignored. To be fair, at the time, the gross excesses to which Mobutu’s regime would later reach, the pillaging, the mind-boggling levels of courrption, the epic human rights abuses and his role in the Congo Wars of the 1990s, were scarcely imaginable, despite his ruthless role in the overthrow of Patrice Lumumba. 

Colin Legum, writing in The Observer during the visit, noted: 

‘It is a hard thing to admit, but it is probably true that Zaire needed a leader like Mobutu to rescue it from its post-colonial fate.’

Historically, though, it’s hard to imagine a more awkward state visit than that of the Emperor Hirohito of Japan in 1971, who ruled from 1926 until the royalty became a constitutional monarchy in 1947 (though his reign lasted until his death in 1989).

This trip came just 26 years after the end of the Second World War, with memories still bitter and fresh. His few days here were part of a goodwill tour through Europe and, as he rattled down The Mall in an open top carriage with the Queen, he was met with the largest crowds of the whole trip. But the New York Times noted there were ‘few cheers, and the crowds were curiously quiet, considering their size’.

Queen Elizabeth II with Emperor Hirohito riding towards Buckingham

Palace in 1971.

One unidentified 27-year-old man threw his coat towards the emperor as he passed along The Mall prompting two Life Guards riding along with the royal carriage to wave their swords towards him. The coat-thrower faced no charge.

Lord Mountbatten of Burma, who accepted the surrender of Japanese forces, refused to attend the state banquet but a spokesman told The Times no snub was intended and he received invitations to attend 20 to 30 functions a week. It is hard, though, to imagine what invitation was so pressing that it topped a state banquet.

The Times also reported that a man laid a wreath at Bristol Cenotaph with a card reading: 

‘Our memories are not as short as government which today welcomes those who inspired your suffering and death.’

And memories are short. There were demonstrations against the state visit of King Abdullah of Saudi Arabia in 2007 - it was so serious the Liberal Democrats boycotted the whole affair - and against President Xi Jinping of China in 2015. The latter, though, was perhaps more notable for the strange crowds supporting the president wearing t-shirts reading I Heart China and messages such as ‘Welcome Big Buddy Xi’, all seemingly shipped over in an operation orchestrated by the Chinese State.

It’s fair to say, however, these protests will be dwarfed by the ones that will greet, and follow, President Trump. Politically, such a visit is a no brainer if a sign of desperation. Trade agreements with the US after Brexit will be vital though it’s currently hard to envisage how the UK government will be able to secure something of worth with such an unreliable and erratic President.

Equally, the protests are certain and perhaps, rather than bickering, the country should just accept and understand both inevitabilities. 

It could, of course, be that the reaction against Donald Trump is likely to be so large and vigorous, in comparison to earlier protests, precisely because the United States is our closest ally. The values of this country and the US should be closely aligned and people might hold the view that the current occupant of the Oval Office denigrates the history and standing of his position.

Last orders for the Coach and Horses?

Norman Balon's final day at the Coach and Horses.

They were nervous days, the end of May in 2006, when Norman Balon, the long-time landlord of Soho’s Coach and Horses, was retiring.

What would happen to the pub that had become so familiar to many so many people?  Regulars might not always have been on first name terms, but we all knew who we were. All of us had our preferred spots along the bar.  Norman's departure meant a spot to which we had all escaped suddenly felt threatened. 

These fears proved to be misplaced.  Under the new (seems almost daft to still think of him as ‘new’) landlord Alastair Choat the pub has remained a treasure in the West End.

But now, thirteen years later, lovers of the Greek Street pub, which I sadly visit far less frequently than I once did, are fearful the lovely old place will succumb to the whims of freeholder Fullers who are unwilling to renew Alastair’s lease and plan to take it back in house. 

Back in 2006, no one could blame Norman for wanting to move on. He claimed he was retiring ‘because all my customers are my age and one by one they’re dropping off their bar stools’.

He had worked at the pub since February 1 1943 but, despite diligently cultivating his persona as the ‘Rudest Landlord in London’, he was held in huge affection by regulars.  It wasn’t just the cartoon-printed mugs handed out every December, mainly it was that inside Norman was, and no doubt still is, incredibly warm hearted, generous and caring for his regulars. (I say this despite having a photograph of the pub at home, with the message ‘the worst editor in London’ written by Norman in his barely legible scrawl. It is true his rudeness could be fabulous and marvellously entertaining.)

At his leaving party, drink took the priority above speeches, but Norman did say:

'In all these years you think I have been entertaining you. Well, you're wrong, you have been entertaining me. I've had a fantastic life.'

To which Private Eye's Richard Ingrams piped up 'the only man grumpier than me, I salute you'.

For a time, Maison Bertaux was trying to purchase Greek Street pub, and I was briefly involved in the scheme. Falling short by a couple of thousands of pounds, my wife and I agreed to invest to secure a deal for the pub. One day an agreement appeared to have been made. Yet, in the time it took for me to make a journey on the 24 bus from my office in Camden Town to Soho – during which I imagined myself insisting on retaining my stool on the basis that embodied the sum of my financial contribution – the deal collapsed. Norman was leaning on the bar as I entered and snapped that it wasn’t happening. Uncertainty resumed.

Norman did leave though and along came Alastair and despite the pub getting a spruce up – the woodwork behind the bar was suddenly polished and lights behind the Ind Coope sign appeared – little at first seemed to change. The toilets remained terrible. The pub stubbornly refused to play music.

Crucially, though, the pub retained its down-at-heel charm and his tenure has been one of great success.

There were a few changes. On the first floor the room where Private Eye still hosted their lunches – and where I once held a raucous leaving party – was knocked through and became an attractive dining room, engulfed with delightful light streaming through the high windows on both Greek Street and Romilly Street. 

Under the influence of Alastair’s daughter Hollie, the pub turned its back on meat stuffed pies and became London’s first vegan and vegetarian pub. The quality of the food remained excellent.

A pair of cats arrived, Earl and Grey. Slinky and jet black, they could be found on the bar, sleeping on chairs, in empty crisp boxes, jumping on laps or typically elusive.

Then there was a piano. Norman Balon didn’t approve, as Alastair told Robert Elms on Radio London earlier today (February 13); ‘he hates music in pubs’, but with it came hugely popular singalongs on Wednesdays and Saturdays.

What do Fullers want to do with the site? No one is quite clear though it would remain as a pub. Alastair would certainly be gone, replaced by a manager whose loyalty would be to the freeholders rather than the pub. As Alastair says: ‘the great British pub landlord dedicates all their life to the pub. The pub is our front room’. It's worth noting, not only are landlords more loyal to pubs than managers, regulars are loyal to landlords as well as pubs; something not often appreciated.  

How much time would a manager have given Pamela Jennings, the shaven-headed homeless lady who used to try and get donations from regulars? Affectionate and sweet, she would often hug familiar faces and utter the cry ‘love you’ before darting off. She died in 2012 and was buried in East Finchley but it was the Coach and Horses which hosted her wake.

And how many pub managers broadcast images of World War One veterans to mark on Remembrance Sunday, making 100 years since the end of the war? I’d wager not many.

Fullers claim they want to make it ‘one of the gems’ of their estate, without realising it is ‘an incredible jewel exactly as it is’, as Alastair said on the radio.

There is little doubt Fullers would spend a fortune the site. After acquiring the Half Moon Pub in Herne Hill, a reported £2.5million was spent smartening it up. In all fairness, this was done quite sympathetically, cleverly blending the old and the new. But, the Half Moon lost much of its identity as its live music space was lost, replaced with hotel rooms. It isn’t hard to imagine something similar, a Soho bijou hotel, dining out on its links to journalism, could be planned for the Coach and Horses. Who knows? Maybe it’ll be reborn with the Jeffrey Bernard Suite, the Tom Baker lounge and the Norman Balon Barred Bar.

In the meantime, Alastair and his daughter Hollie have launched a campaign to try and persuade Fullers to change their mind. There is no legal route to stopping the changes, just sheer pressure from the pub's fans can save this institution. It needs to be saved.

Sign here to help.

Morning might break over Brexit on Tuesday

Wasn’t the Christmas break invigorating? 

With Theresa May pulling the meaningful vote on her Brexit deal in December, every MP was able to scuttle back to their constituencies and have a well deserved rest. And, so the plan went, with a fresher mind, they would be able to consider calmly the merits of the Prime Minister's withdrawal deal safely away from the sturm und drang swirling through the corridors of Westminster.

Peace.

And thus, as the dawn of 2019 broke, we find... any such hopes have come to a shuddering halt; MPs are as firmly entrenched as they were before the festive season if not more so. The sherry, port and turkey have stiffened the sinews, ready for fresh battle.

As we look now, the Prime Minister could be defeated on a huge scale when the vote takes place on Tuesday night. According to BBC analysis she is as many as 114 MPs short from securing a deal. Translated, that would give her opponents a victory by more than 200 votes; it is scarcely possible to imagine a political humiliation of greater magnitude.

Today (Thursday) we hear that the Prime Minister held calls with a couple of union leaders trying to get them to put pressure on likely Labour MPs to switch their support to her. Having not even contacted Labour’s eminently reasonable shadow Brexit Secretary Sir Keir Starmer during the entire Brexit process to ask for his assistance, a last minute call to Sir Len McCluskey - to whom she has never spoken before - seems to be an act of desperation and unlikely to be the thing to turn the tide.

Having seen off a leadership challenge at the end of last year, and possessing the ability and determination to cling to power with a tenacity that would make a barnacle jealous, however huge the defeat, it is unlikely to spell the end of Mrs May's premiership.

It could finally, however, provide a moment of clarity in the whole Brexit drama.

After protesting loudly against Speaker John Bercow’s sleight of hand when he allowed an amendment to what everyone had hitherto understood to be a non-amendable motion, Brexiteer and Remainer MPs alike now know the Prime Minister must return to the House of Commons within three sitting days and present what she plans to do next.

Bercow’s ruling may well have been unprecedented, hasty and done without fully considering what the consequences may prove to be, but, he has consistently, since ascending to the office, said he would stand up for the voice of parliament. That is what he has done. 

At a time when the government has no-majority and both of the major parties have self-evidently failed to convince a sufficient number of MPs to coalesce around their own particular Brexit vision, that parliament can still drive the agenda forward in the hope a solution might be found is something of a relief.

After all, had Bercow not taken such a stance the government theoretically could have waited 21 days before indicating to Parliament its next intentions. With fewer than 80 days left before Article 50 comes into force and the U.K. leaves the EU, that would surely have been intolerable.

Theresa May, who is no stranger to twisting parliamentary procedure when it suits her government (see the FT's legal and Brexit blogger @davidallengreen's excellent thread here), she was, admittedly, always unlikely to wait so long before outlining her next strategy. Mrs May must know time is too precious. Heaven's above! Would the government stoop to playing low politics on such a crucial issue?

It seems likely, therefore, that after the defeat on Tuesday the prime minister will rise to the despatch box, or stand before a lectern in Downing Street later that night or on Wednesday morning, and tell the nation what’s going to happen next. Personally, I wouldn’t be surprised if another referendum was her answer with her deal and no Deal, later to be joined by Remain - following another bitterly contested amendment - appearing on the ballot paper. An extension of Article 50 to make time for fresh negotiations also seems to be gaining in likelihood.

There will be no easy resolution next week but fog may finally lift and some much-needed clarity should be visible. After the shadow boxing in of the last two years, that can only be a good thing.