The UK’s move may result in a return to the pointless rituals of inspection at the Border
In 1962, the Ulster poet John Hewitt published a short poem called The Frontier.
It is ostensibly about crossing the Alps between France and Switzerland but, of course, not really.
The train he is on stops and “small men in uniform drift down the corridor, thumb passports” and mark the travellers’ bags with chalk as a sign that they have been duly inspected.
We pass here…