Eleanor Shaw is in her 50s, well-spoken, Home Counties.



I don’t understand why it hasn’t worked.

I don’t understand why I don’t feel better.

Of course I didn’t believe them – nobody did – when they said people would take back control. We’re not that stupid. What, they’re going to come and ask me, are they, what to do? And they’re going to do what I suggest? Just because we left Europe?

I don’t think so.

We don’t even get the rubbish collected once a week. Before they took the service away, they consulted us, we all got a questionnaire through the door, they said: “How often do you want it collected?” We said: “Once a week.”

Now it’s fortnightly.

“Do you want your local hospital to close?” “No.” They closed it.

I’m not that stupid. I’m not an idiot.

When they told me I’d get my country back, I knew it wasn’t true.

But. Even so.

The woman at the hairdresser told me before the referendum: “It’s a funny thing, it’s those of us who are least affected that feel most strongly.” But she voted to leave. Well everyone did. Everyone I know anyway.

Winchester’s still Winchester, but we voted to leave.

For years you could live on a modest income, we did, and not feel ashamed.

The common market was all right when it was six countries with a northern culture – thrifty, hard-working – but it was bound to fail once the Mediterraneans flocked in.

27 countries sticking to the rules?

I don’t know two countries who play by the rules.

I don’t know one.

If you can, find a gardener who doesn’t want to be paid in cash, I can’t. And don’t even try to get a man up a ladder without stuffing his mouth with gold.

I don’t mind the BBC calling people who voted like me racist, because I know it isn’t true. I always think the people who’ve come are more English than we are. They have more values. They look after their families. And I won’t say a word against anyone who does that.

But somehow, having decided to leave, it doesn’t feel any different, does it?

I thought it would.

I thought we’d be less angry. But we’re not.

You see, it’s the anger, isn’t it? That’s what it’s about. It’s about the anger.

It used to be the young who were angry. Now – funny – it’s the old. It used to be Labour who wanted change. Now – funny – it’s the Conservatives.

But I did think it would feel better than this.

It doesn’t seem to have made anyone happy.

Mine was an army family. My father was killed in Northern Ireland, so it won’t break my heart to see the border go back up. Good fences make good neighbours.

They say we may lose Scotland. I say you can’t lose what you never had.

When I’m in the High Street, I think: “Well, we’ve been free for a year. But what’s changed?”

I look around. The people haven’t changed. I haven’t changed. And the anger’s still there.

And it’s made me wonder: “What’s the anger about?”

But the other day I was in the garden, tying in the roses and suddenly I understood. From nowhere. I realised. “Oh that’s why it hasn’t worked. That’s why we’re all so unhappy. We voted to leave Europe.

But that’s not what we wanted.

We wanted to leave England.