Why must I have a view on everything?

At a party earlier this summer, I was chatting to a man who asked me how I voted in last year’s EU referendum. I don’t see why anybody asks that question more than a year on, and I don’t see why anyone should be expected to answer. There is no faster way to sour a perfectly fine evening. Whatever you say, you risk causing offence, so why bother? I told the man I preferred not to say, and that I still don’t really know what I think about Brexit. He appeared put out by my reluctance — as if I was the one being rude. Before long he made his excuses and moved on.

I find myself in that situation more and more in social encounters — skirting round questions in order to avoid an embarrassing argument only to find I’ve caused more awkwardness. It happens not just when I’m asked what I’ve done in the privacy of the polling booth. People increasingly seem to expect me to have firm convictions on almost every story in the news, then get upset not because I voice strong opinions, but precisely because I don’t.

The most startling instance came during a wedding recently. The starter was served, and the man to my left began to talk about American politics. He was utterly fixated on the Russians, and no doubt you can guess the rest. Didn’t I think it was terrible that all those Trump voters had been brainwashed by Vladimir Putin and his clever algorithms? I didn’t know, I said, but wasn’t this salmon delicious? By the time the main course arrived, he had gone, and taken his knife, fork and chair with him.