No wonder Britain voted for Brexit – just look at our obsession with garden fences

Even in the face of stormy weather, we’ve always gone above and beyond to build new barriers. And it says everything about our feelings towards Europe, writes Jane Fae

Perhaps excluding our neighbours has roots much deeper than a considered critique of Schengen (Getty/iStock)

It is an ill wind, they say, that blows no good. And so it was last week as I surveyed the wreckage of the barrier separating me from my neighbour, and offered up a brief prayer of thanks to Aeolus, the God of Wind and his lately numerous offspring: Ciara, Dennis, Ellen.

For this was the second time in a matter of months – third in a year – that storms had decimated the 6ft fencing that keeps my neighbours safe from me and my wild, Independent-leaning ways. My back garden looked, felt, like a mouth with a tooth missing.

My cat, a boisterous disrespecter of boundaries, is celebrating. He goes where he will: more to the point, eats and sleeps where he will. But this new and open vista is exciting. Like going to sleep in the back of a wardrobe and waking in an open-ended winter wonderland.