not the revolutionary I want myself to be

I once wrote on here that I felt a riot is no place for a cripple. I stand by that. A protest is another matter, of course: anyone can and should be able to attend a peaceful protest and have their voice heard. I went to the protest in central London today, together with Lyn and Adrian, where I saw a great many people using wheelchairs. They were all, I assume, as worried as I am about what this government is doing. Like last time, there was a carnival atmosphere at the protest for most of today. We walked along, listening to the drums and whistles. I was eager to get up to hyde park, where I knew a rally was being held, and where I suspected some of my friends to be. I also suspected there would be less chance of trouble there.

But it wasn’t to be: we were following the crowd past fortnum and mason when trouble started. Some protesters – mostly masked – were on the roof. Suddenly a bunch of riot police rushed past. I decided it was time to press on, when a woman told us to get out of there, as the police were about to kettle.

We got out just in time. I felt the same sense of fear I felt last time, and told Adrian we needed to go somewhere safe. We decided this was home, and about ninety minutes later we were back here, pizza in the oven and beer open on the table. I guess I’m not the revolutionary I want myself to be, but at least it seems a great many others who are feel as strongly as I do about the cuts.

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