3 February 2016, 9 am
I endure what feels like a three-hour taxi ride from the flat to CIPA HQ. The taxi driver asks me what I think about the EU referendum. I am aware I need to be careful how I answer this. I am also aware that spouting the official CIPA position will not necessarily satisfy him, and that explaining how much Mr Davies dislikes the word “Brexit” will not get us any closer to agreement. And finally, I am aware that whatever my actual views on the EU, only one of us is able to get me and my suitcase to Chancery Lane on time and therefore the balance of power favours a certain amount of diplomacy. As it happens, however, I do not need the diplomacy. Because, before I have even drawn breath to give my carefully considered Presidential opinion, the driver has already begun on his own reply. If I may take the liberty of summarising, his view is roughly thus: the country is in a mess because we can’t get our own laws right because it takes forever to get a doctor’s appointment and the roads haven’t been mended and no one can buy a house anymore because the Russians own them all. I am not sure quite how this links to the original question, but I am not stupid enough to say so. The man seems so good at the Don’t Stop Talking game that I wonder whether perhaps he is a WIPO spy. Yesterday’s taxi driver wanted my advice about his varifocals, which was possibly even worse. I spent the rest of that journey terrified we would run over something that hadn’t quite made it into his field of vision.
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