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Back to the Future: Leaving the UK

I spent the last month and a half leaving the UK. Besides moving house, city, country there were two lingering monsters: a global pandemic, and a massive feeling of betrayal.

Going to live in the UK

My wife and I left our native country, Italy, almost ten years ago, having had enough of two decades of populism driven by a rightwing tycoon, Silvio Berlusconi.

Berlin was our original target, but when a realistic job offer arrived from London, we chose the quick and easy way.

We loved the first few years in London. Everything was different, apparently better. Settling in a beautiful apartment on the river Thames, the honeymoon with the United Kingdom was so powerful we merrily decided to become British. Integration wasn’t enough, we wanted a proper seal of approval. Citizenship, passport, the whole lot. We even got married in London.

In 2014 I opposed Scottish independence in principle. I hoped they would not break the Union. Then 2016 came, along with a simple, albeit dumb, question in a non-binding referendum about staying or not in the European Union.

Power to the underbelly

23 June, 2016. Everything changed. Literally, everything. I stayed up all night, juggling between the BBC and Sky News, as if it was the Moon landing. Instead, I watched the giddy rise to power of the horrendous British version of populism.

The village idiot

I won’t delve too much into what segued: an awful descent into a deep black hole filled with failure and sheer incompetence, which completed more than ten years of Tory rule over the country. Now racists walk in plain sight, incompetence is rewarded instead of merit and knowledge. An arrogant contempt towards experts, or science, or anything valuable that used to be at the forefront of British culture, is now dominant. Even the rule of law is shunned.

The feeling of not belonging to this version of Britain was overwhelming. We would never have become truly British anyway. I now understand the mistakes of our initial enthusiasm. Moving to a different country can be an awesome experience: integrating with the local culture, learning the language, getting to know their story and the people.

But then, I was born in a different place, raised in a different way. Flatly refusing my own culture was naive.

You don't belong here: leaving the UK.

Leaving the UK

We went back to Italy. Admittedly on a temporary basis, but still unthinkable until a year ago. Sure, the pandemic played a big role in the choice. Nevertheless, I’m happy to be here. Everything is familiar, yet everything is new. There seems to be a newfound respect for rules, and the government is putting science and competence at the forefront. Many things are better than when we left. I hope it’s not a fluke.

After years of David Cameron and Theresa May, and twelve months of Boris Johnson, this few simple facts sound utterly revolutionary to me.

Champions (food) league

I didn’t mention the food. The difference can’t be described with words. It’s a completely different league. Right now, I’m in the top tier, and I’m willing to fully enjoy it till I’m here.

Ciao.

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