EU again? Rejoiners trek to Brussels in search of redemption

The Ramblers were running late. A man in cycling shorts and a blue beret covered with yellow stars came running up the hill. His name was Chris and he was a former Duke of Edinburgh instructor, but, he told me, the team had ignored his directions and gone the wrong way. “Theoretically,” he said, “they should be over there.” He pointed to an empty cornfield.

It was easy to get lost. The group had been walking for five days straight, beginning in Westminster, through Dartford, Rochester, Faversham, Canterbury and now Dover. From here, they’d take the ferry across the Channel and keep walking until they arrived at the European Parliament. There, they would deliver their message to the EU: we miss you, we want to come back.

Peter Corr, a lorry driver and former soldier, had planned the Rejoin Ramble for the ten-year anniversary of the Brexit referendum. Five walkers were doing the whole 200-mile journey from London to Brussels, but other Europhiles were joining at various points along the way. Chris was following along in his car, bringing clean clothes and moral support. “I felt that it was a responsibility of mine to assist them through East Kent,” he said. “It’s not exactly a fiefdom, but I am chair of the European movement there.”

The European movement is not a fashionable progressive cause in Britain. In 2019, one million people attended the People’s Vote march – but even then, it was derided as middle-class, eccentric, out-of-touch. Since we actually left the EU, the number of Rejoin activists has dwindled to the most passionate few. Yet they have more reason to hope. Both Andy Burnham and Wes Streeting, two potential challengers to Keir Starmer, have previously expressed support for rejoining the EU. More than 50 per cent of Brits would now back Rejoin.

Six walkers emerged from a bend in the road, sunburned and blistered and cheery. First came Conor, an English teacher there just for the day, and then Peter and his partner, Clare. They were joined by Ceira, a nursing student from Liverpool who had been too young to vote in 2016, and a married couple, both dancers: Steve and Marisa.

Before the ramble, Clare had painted her nails in the colours of the Belgian and French flags (or, if you look at them sideways, she noted, the Netherlands and Germany). Steve wore a blue hat with a felt star stuck on it. “I put the star in front like – what’s that bloodthirsty guy? – Che Guevara,” he told me. “Marisa said, ‘Put the star on the side. You look like the IRA.’”

They’d had a mixed reception in the south of England. When they crossed a bridge over a motorway, Clare and Ceira had unfurled their EU flag and waved at lorries: to their surprise, quite a few drivers beeped their horns in support. But in Canterbury town centre, a man had seen their flags and called them “fucking twats”. The working class voted to leave, he said – why were they trying to undo that? “Mate, I’m a lorry driver,” Corr told them. “I am working class!”

But Corr had enjoyed walking through England. “It really is a beautiful country,” he said. Yesterday, they’d followed a thin path running through a field up a hill. At the top, a sign read: “The trail was part funded by the European Union”, with an EU flag. He sighed. “It makes you realise how connected we were.”

Tomorrow, the walkers would take the P&O ferry to Calais. (Corr’s original plan was to pilot a dinghy bearing an EU flag across the Channel – a sort of reverse refugee. The rest of the team refused.)

From Calais, they’d walk through the French and Belgian countryside before arriving in Brussels on Friday. MEPs would greet them there, and the Ramblers would present a book, “Voices Across the Channel”, which they’d filled with messages from supporters: “Please forgive those who voted Leave, we were all misled.” “I’m nearly 84 and I want to be back in the EU before I die.” “Can’t wait to Rejoin. It’s cold out here.”

We were in the P&O passenger terminal, waiting to board, and Marisa and Steve were practising the dance they would perform in front of the parliament complex. Their soundtrack – “Unity” by Nina Hagen, an East Berlin punk artist – played out of an iPhone as their trainers squeaked on the terminal floor. The dance began with the Spanish section – Steve was doing flamenco-style movements, arms above his head – then moved into the can-can, with high kicks (this was “a bit of France”, he told me). Next was some traditional Greek line-dancing, and then apparently a Balkan bit, before they twirled together into the final flourish. Steve spun Marisa around as they spoke along to Hagen’s lyrics. “Community… freedom… unity!”

For the real thing, Marisa would wear some blue leggings with a blue semi-sheer top, and a golden wrap-around skirt and gold wings. Steve would wear blue trousers and a blue T-shirt. She’d banned him from wearing the trousers until the performance.

A P&O worker walked past. “The dancing was fabulous, by the way,” he told them.

Steve used to be a railway worker, but now ran a fitness organisation in Swindon. He’s been with Marisa, originally from Bavaria, for more than 20 years.

Steve is used to getting abuse for his opinions about Brexit. “I did get sacked from one place – a quite lucrative bit of teaching – but I couldn’t keep my mouth shut,” he said. “Seeing all these older people vote against their own interests…” Debating Brexiteers in Swindon rarely went well: “You can’t argue with them. It’s like trying to wrestle with an eel.”

The Swindon Advertiser had recently shared a picture of the campaign group Swindon for Europe, but a lot of the comments had been pretty nasty. Steve usually replied to the comments with laughter emojis. “Then you get sleepless nights about it for a week,” Marisa said. Steve shrugged. “They call me a middle-aged twat,” he said. “I’m actually an old twat, with two hip replacements.”

Inside the ferry, we were joined by Chris, who had brought Charlotte, Briony and Jane – all retired, all committee members of East Kent for Europe. “Chris told us that this group intended to walk from London to Brussels, and it would go through East Kent – that’s our patch,” Charlotte told me. “So we felt bound to get involved.” Briony is the director of liaisons for the Rejoin EU party, which is fielding a candidate in the upcoming Makerfield by-election. She was also part of both Conservative Forum for Europe and Labour for Europe. “My job is to belong to everything to do with rejoining the EU,” she said. Nigel Farage and his son had bought a house in Dungeness, near where Briony lived on Romney Marsh. It had given Briony an idea: “I creep out one night and put an EU flag on his door.”

Jane looked at me. “Please don’t write that we’re all mad old white people.”

They’d been called a lot worse than that. Even to other progressives, ardent Rejoiners seem strange, hold-out soldiers still fighting long after their country has surrendered. Yet it was never just about winning. A few years ago, Steve had been at the Reading Festival, handing out “Bollocks to Brexit” stickers with a young man who told him he enjoyed campaigning so much he wouldn’t mind if it took 20 years to actually Rejoin. “And that’s exactly how I feel,” said Steve. “Even though it’s been frightening and confrontational, I’ve been assaulted and threatened, most of it has been an absolute gas.”

The Calais beach was approaching. The Ramblers dutifully gathered for a photo on the deck, holding their flag high. Clare looked wistful. “I don’t want to go back,” she said.

[Further reading: At SXSW, politicians and Paddington’s dad take to the stage]