Winter Garden, Sheffield

I am regularly accused of an inability to dream.

Today I had a lightbulb moment. We should sell our house and cars and live in a hotel in the middle of a vibrant city where there are young people (the audience last evening was on average 30 years younger than those we are used to)... I could go on. Our children should be delighted: their latest estimate is that they will need six skips to clear the crap here "when the time comes".

Sheffield, Leeds, Manchester and Bristol are on the shortlist, but if Mr Johnson and his version of Brexit are endorsed on 12 December (difficult to understand why anyone would vote for someone who has made a career of lying, but we live in strange times) then we (a consultation with the first Mrs J may be required) will be casting our net outside England.

Is it time to wake up yet?