In the week
that I turned fifty-seven, I protested with Extinction Rebellion and marched
for a People’s Vote on Brexit.
My back
hurts a bit, but my spirits are in good shape.
I’m
frightened about what will happen to the economy of this country and to the
welfare of our citizens should Brexit occur.
I’m terrified of what will happen to our planet as Global Heating ramps
up.
Many of my
friends lie awake at night fretting about the future of their children and
grand-children. They are right to do
so.
But my way
to be at peace with my conscience and get a good night’s sleep is to
protest. I am signing the petitions, writing the letters
to MPs and I’m getting out there with flags and banners and demonstrating and
marching.
Feeling
powerless is destructive to the body and mind, but grasping whatever agency we
have is empowering. It has been better
for me to take action than to sit at home following the newsfeeds and gnashing
my teeth in impotent rage.
I’ve had challenging
conversations while handing out leaflets, and I’ve also been touched by the
kindness of others, handing me home-baked flapjack.
So in
trying to keep my country and my planet alive, I’ve come to feel more alive
too.
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| Annabel with her beautiful banner |
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