Between Brexit and going on Strictly, the last few months have felt like a fever dream. Time to push the reset button

Leaving the EU has brought us a tawdry display of bad manners, and my public persona is now that of someone who ballroom dances with Kevin Clifton. The world is upside down

Imelda Staunton is to be the new Queen for the fifth season of The Crown. I like the way this series just presses reset every now and again and, without a murmur, we just get on with the new cast. Claire, Olivia, Imelda – all fine by us. Just tell us when and we’ll make the leap.

We all need to press reset this week. I don’t know about you but the last three and a half years have been noisy and jangling. I’ve spent more time figuratively with Laura Kuenssberg and Katya Adler than my own family. Whereas once British politics seemed slow and sleepy, it has become addicted to jeopardy and speed. Fine if you’re a journalist, activist, strategist, this has been your time! But this frenzy has been exhausting for everyone outside politics. We have been desperately grappling with new ideas and trying to keep up to date, usually with a sense of powerless dread.

So many highs and lows, options and possibilities – we’ve been following the news minute by minute. We’ve had elections and referendums; we’ve had to learn about backstops, Norway-plus, soft things, hard things – it’s been like keeping up with a particularly taxing Open University degree. With noisy roadworks outside. Hanging on a zip line.

After all the build up to 31 January, we could have done better when the crunch came. We’re good at organising things in the UK; I wish someone had arranged a respectful thank you to Europe, a token of our gratitude. After all, our European partnership has given us beautiful clean beaches, kept us safe and built any number of sparkling new infrastructures. And especially after the gracious mayor, Philippe Close, lit up the Grand Place, Brussels’ main square, in red, white and blue to mark the occasion. Could the Queen not have been there to shake hands with those patient European bureaucrats? Or perhaps Claire or Olivia or Imelda? Could we not have recreated the joy of the 2012 Olympics opening ceremony, almost the last time I felt any sense of national pride, by parachuting one of the queens in with a corgi and a thank-you letter, trailing bunting and brandishing a Victoria sponge?

How thoughtful it would have been to make an effort. I used to threaten adoption for my children if they forgot to send a thank-you letter.

Instead, the spectacle of Nigel Farage and Ann Widdecombe childishly, rudely waving Union Jack flags in the EU parliament left me mortified. Whatever your politics, you will surely have been embarrassed. I can’t “unsee” this really tawdry display of bad manners. It was left to the dignified parliament vice-president Mairead McGuinness to tell Farage ”Please sit down, resume your seats, put your flags away”, like they were three year olds.

But it’s February now, so it’s time for us to start from scratch.

While I’m about it, I also need another reboot. For decades, my modus operandi has been: get up, put on sturdy clothes and tool belt, do DIY, build an orphanage, go to bed exhausted. Strictly Come Dancing has sent me into wild orbit. My public persona at the moment seems to be someone who ballroom dances with Kevin Clifton, according to the people I meet in Sainsbury’s.

Now it’s “What’s the make of that pink lipstick?” Or “Did you get to keep the pink dress?” instead of “I volunteered at the soup kitchen you built”.

This is all oddly touching for an out-and-out tomboy like me, but I am now realising that I have lost my hinterland of building sites, noble charitable projects and Dave the Soundman.

I have a whole new wardrobe. I google “pink” when I wake up, in case new dresses have landed on the internet. This is bewildering for everyone who knows me. I’m someone who didn’t bother to see what her wedding dress looked like until the day before. I haven’t managed false eyelashes yet but I see Love Island as a nightly 9pm tutorial. It’s only a matter of time.

And yet. And yet. My head’s been turned by the coronavirus. Seeing those JCBs in Wuhan lined up ready to build a hospital in 10 days gave me a head rush. My heart soared with intent.

So, here goes, I’m pressing reset. Who knows what bizarre joys I’ll encounter on the other side? Dave and Kev are both on speed dial. Watch this space.

Anneka Rice is a presenter and broadcaster