Today was positively, definitely, the last hurrah for our ad-hoc group of Brexiteers. We were joined by people from Glasgow who decided to have a day out in the capital as well as just about every member from every Edinburgh group that ever existed. All in all we filled over a hundred yards of Princess Street pavement starting right outside Waverley Station. As you can see, we had the press asking questions, as well as the TV crews from both the BBC and Reuters.
We had the youngsters from the University of Edinburgh.
And we had old blokes named Billy. Trust me, in Scotland you cannot have any event that wants to be taken seriously unless it involves at least one bloke called Billy. This one is ours and he has worked his heart out for this most noble cause of ours.
The Federasts managed to turn out five, yes, I counted 'em, five people to hand out their poorly produced drivel, but the day belonged to us, the weary, defiant, battling Brexiteers of Edinburgh.
Taxi drivers were sounding their horns and taking stacks of leaflets to hand out to their passengers, whether they wanted them or not. Badges were being given away to all and sundry, along with posters and what few remaining T-shirts we had.
Then it began to rain at just after 6.00pm and people from our team began to roll their eyes in exasperation. I reminded them that it had rained cats and dogs on the night before Waterloo and that this was a good omen for tomorrow.
The enemies of this country have thrown everything they can at us and we have withstood it all. Tomorrow is actually the easy part - the whole line must advance, every Brexiteer in line facing the front and together the people of this country will win the day.
Do your duty: the generations that went before you are with you at this hour and the generations that are as yet unborn will praise you for it.
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