It’s the afternoon after the morning after the night after the night after the day before. My headache is abating, the empties have been taken to the recycling depot, and I’ve regained the power of speech. The weak sunlight of early spring washes Cardiff in a pale, watery luminescence. It’s good to be alive. Wales won!

We didn’t just win, we trounced the bastards by 63.5% to 36.5% in what amounts to virtually a 14% swing from no to yes in the 14 years since the last referendum. So each year, as appalling UK governments follow one after the other and as those wedded to toxic British identity drop dead, another percentage point is added to the numbers embracing Welshness and shaking off the centuries of calculated belittling, debasement and exploitation. Wales has taken another small but vital step on the long road to freedom. We Welsh who are alive today are fortunate indeed to be experiencing what our ancestors could only dream of: the first genuine wisps of autonomy since annexation by England in the 16th century. At historic times like this the daunting challenges of the future can wait a while – let’s just wallow in the pleasure and bask in the glory for a few days. Talking of which, it’s time for another ibuprofen and a little lie down on the day-bed…