Been feeling physically sick since about 2.30am today when it became clear the "leave" people were going to win.
The feeling, at 7am, that if I didn't look at the internet or turn on the radio, it might not actually have happened.
The feeling, during the day, cycling around south London, that every sighting of a Union Jack or St George's flag triggered an immediate desire to deface it with red or brown paint. You know, a bit of reciprocal vandalism, a sort of childish urge to hit back at the types who have shat all over our (and our children's) futures.
Sadly, many such flags, sodden with the earlier rain, are flapping around in this very street.
A sort of provocation, a squad of dangling insults, these flags were strung out two weeks ago for some snooty street party, ostensibly to celebrate the queen's birthday, actually to celebrate just how frightfully rich most of the residents here are.
And they left the flags up. Last week they seemed merely pathetic, today they seem insulting, in a borough that voted 80 per cent to stay in the EU, that voted overwhelmingly to support and extend the supra-national European project.
So the sodden flags dangle and flap. At least many of them are pink versions of the flag, LGBT jacks perhaps, nice thought, maybe that's OK. The tolerant UK flag. But maybe not....check out the fake blue plaques on a wall at the southern end of this street, celebrating two earlier street parties to celebrate two other events in the life of the dreary Windsor family.
Please, take down these flags!
It's a time to grieve and mourn the destruction of 40 years of efforts to bring people together, to soften borders, to encourage mobility, to increase understanding.