annanotbob2's Diaryland Diary

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Lights will guide you home

Getting all wound up about politics again today. There's a big demo tomorrow in London against the proposed bill which threatens to mortally wound the NHS, but I'm not going. There's not been a big demo for a while so I'd forgotten the loop - I decide to go, because this is important shit, stand up and be counted - I get all knotted up, which I eventually unpick as being down to undiluted fear, of the noise and the crowd and the unpredictability of events - I do a little rational fear vs irrational analysis and fucking hell - this fear is RATIONAL. Younger daughter was at the first anti-cuts demo last year, far too close to a line of police horses that charged the crowd. 'Kettling' occurs, when the police trap the crowd within a small area for hours and hours - Westminster Bridge is going to make that even easier. So I'm not going - don't even know anyone else going who I could tag along with - the final decider, as well as a further piss off. But then I forget all that when I read an article about it and decide again to go and I'm back at the beginning - which starts to get on your nerves after a while, but the demo's tomorrow so it'll pass soon.

So there's that. I'm quite excited by the occupation of Wall Street, though you'd never know it was happening if you relied on the BBC. And I've become increasingly agitated at the range of vile slogans about rape being put on T shirts and offered for sale. I've sat here for ages pondering how to discuss this without quoting them and it's not really possible, in any meaningful way. I wrote the company an email though. And I've emailed a Lord about the NHS bill, so I'm not completely sitting on the sofa shouting at the telly, just too close for comfort.

I did my five minutes sorting (decided I want to keep that whole pile, but it still counts), drew Henry Moore's sheep repeatedly, made fish and chips for dinner with fresh fish and potatoes, and have become embroiled in two separate email bouts with two separate distant male relatives, neither of whom are men I'd want anything to do with if they weren't family, and I'm not sure I can be arsed with them and their old bloke brains whoever they are. One of them wrote a whole long paragraph about his son then this, "The girls are working away. But there are no boyfriends in view." One of the 'girls' is about seven years into her training as a doctor, the other has a city job and a fantastic band that have just got a recording contract, and she's a lesbian, which he knows, so what the fuck? I used to think he did it to be ironic - maybe he does, but the joke's worn a bit thin.

Mind you, elder daughter's ramp to her front door, her escape route, is being built this weekend by a collection of uber-blokes, including SIL and ED's father, so I'd better shut up.

Grateful for: the cat backing off a bit now the heating's on and she doesn't need me as a hot water bottle; my Uggs (even if they are bastard spammers, still love my boots); a lift to the supermarket from Bloke (I know, I know, shut up); my kindle - I do really like it, though it gives me the existential creeps if I think about it; my lovely soft warm bed, calling me to it...

Sweet dreams xx

1:59 a.m. - 09.10.11

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