A Momentous Day – The Big One (The Biodiversity March) – Extinction Rebellion (XR)

We don’t inherit the earth from our ancestors, we borrow it from our children.

David Brower

Oh, wow! What an amazing day! Those who have read my last few posts will know I went to London on Saturday to join the vast Extinction Rebellion Biodiversity March and to protest against our government for continuing to plough enormous amounts of money into new fossil fuel industries along with their total lack of responsibility for climate injustice and destroying our world. They don’t give a damn about killing our planet, nature and people all over the world. The first-world countries are the ones who are causing the majority of the damage, but it’s the third-world countries who suffer the most. I could get very political about this, but I wouldn’t have the space to tell you about my experience. The protest is for four days, sadly, today being the last.

Lots of us from my local XR group set off at 7.30am to catch an early train into London. The journey for me as a wheelchair user was pretty horrendous there and back. However, every struggle along the route was well worth it.

For Earth Day on Saturday and the Biodiversity march, many people dressed up as different aspects of nature; animals of all sorts, plants and flowers, etc. (I have shared some photos, as you can see, just to give you an idea of the feel of the event.) People’s ingenuity and imagination were quite remarkable. We walked (or rode, in my case) for a mile, mainly around The Houses of Parliament and St James’s Park. On that day, there were, believe it or not, 90,000 rebels, including people from other climate-concerned groups! It was the biggest protest in the country, and the passion was tangible.

The drumming, which is what I was doing as we marched along, was fantastic. Although I got someone to take some photos of the band and I, I am unable to share them as I can’t share close-up pictures of the friends I was with. I just loved being part of such an enormous and passionate band.

The people dressed in white are all scientists, some well-known, who are far more knowledgeable about the future of our planet than our government. Where you can see thousands of people lying down on the road, this is what we call a ‘die-in’ – it lasts fifteen minutes, and it represents all the deaths our world will experience if we don’t stop killing everything and polluting our world – plants, animals, fish, trees etc. Believe it or not, 40% of all creatures have now perished, and many species are now endangered. I could talk more about this, but this would be an extremely long post! What really concerns us is that my and all our children will suffer the most as the future doesn’t look like it’s getting better in our generation. I find this thought very distressing.

I should add that XR worked closely with the police to make this a wonderful, totally peaceful protest. In fact, there were very few police officers about, as we weren’t doing anything harmful or causing damage.

After the most wonderful day, things began to wind up around 6pm. My friends and I went to a local London pub for drinks (non-alcoholic in my case) and chips; we were all ravenous by then. We then headed home by train and finally got home at nearly midnight! Yesterday, I could still hear the sound of the drums in my ears and had to recover from the very worthwhile exhaustion that followed.

I should add that no damage was done to anything or anyone in the course of the day. The Marathon was on yesterday, and we didn’t interrupt them as the press had said we would. We were actually cheering them on, which they all appreciated. Unfortunately, the right-wing press pick out any little event to make XR look bad, and in fact, there was hardly any positive coverage in any of the papers or many news programmes.

Finally (and probably a contentious issue), I couldn’t let this post go without mentioning two courageous Just Stop Oil rebels from another climate-concerned organisation, Morgan and Marcus. They desperately tried to raise awareness of the climate emergency by climbing above the Queen Elizabeth Bridge in the UK, blocking the road for 40 hours. They were both found guilty and were sentenced in the Crown Court (usually used for murder. rape, and manslaughter cases) on Friday to three years and two years, seven months in jail, respectively, having already served six months there. The judge stated he was ‘making an example’ of them to deter other people from taking action against the climate emergency. We are appalled about this unfair decision. You can get less time for burglary, and yet the government is responsible for numerous deaths by their inaction, and we don’t see them locked up, do we!? That’s food for thought.

The Birthday (A Story) – Part One

Day One – Silk ribbons and fish paste sandwiches.

It was a grey cloudy afternoon in 1937 when Miriam trudged home from school, following the route of the 149 bus. She didn’t have any money for the fare, so she would have to walk as usual. It was her ninth birthday in two days. She sighed deeply as she wondered if anyone would remember. She thought it unlikely with her parents being so preoccupied with their busy lives.

Her mother and father worked in the Terminus Café by Shoreditch Bus Station, making tea and all-day breakfasts for the bus drivers and conductors as they finished their shifts. Her parents often forgot, so Miriam wasn’t expecting this year to be any different. She couldn’t remember the last birthday cake she had. She pretended she didn’t care, but she would have given anything to be like her school friends, whose parents always made a big fuss of them while lavishing them with gifts wrapped in pretty paper and tied with silk ribbons and bows. Miriam’s friends always invited her to their birthday parties, but her mother wouldn’t let her go. She’d shout, “do you think money grows on trees, my girl? We can’t afford birthday presents for other people’s kids.” Miriam knew best not to answer back; otherwise, she’d be in for a good hiding.

She was so deep in thought that she didn’t realise how slowly she’d been walking. She should have been home by now. Scared of being in trouble, she ran the rest of the way. She arrived home, out of breath, twenty minutes late, to be greeted by her mother yelling, “what time do you call this?”

 “I’m really sorry, mum. I didn’t notice it was getting so late.”

“Well, if you think you’re getting any tea tonight, you’ve got another think (sic) coming, my girl. Go to your room, and don’t make a noise!”

Miriam ran up the stairs choking back her salty tears. She didn’t dare to make a fuss, or her mother would shout at her to stop her crocodile tears. She plopped herself down on the floor next to her bed, pulled the grey flannel blanket down and wrapped it around her slim shoulders. She grabbed her moth-eaten teddy bear, Peter, and held him close. He’d seen better days as she had had him since her first birthday. She loved him just as he was and knew she could tell Peter about anything troubling her. He would never shout at her as her mother did. She nodded off while clasping Peter to her chest and dreamt that she was in the middle of a birthday party her parents had organised for her as a surprise. When she awoke, it was almost dark, and she was very sad and disappointed to find that it was only a dream.

Suddenly, Miriam heard screaming and shouting coming from downstairs. “You’ve been down that bloody pub again, haven’t you.” It was her mother’s angry voice. She was yelling at her husband again.

Miriam’s dad always ambled along to the pub after working at the café. She often noticed that he had an almost permanent bright red, bulbous nose and smelt of cigarettes and beer. She liked her dad. He was always jolly despite everything. She wanted to go downstairs to greet him but thought better of it. She didn’t want to get into any more trouble. She heard him stumble into the front room and put the television on.

A few minutes later, a voice shouted, “your dinner is on the table. Are you going to eat it, or are you going to sit in front of that bloody TV all night?” Miriam could smell the delicious aroma of minced beef and roast potatoes wafting up the stairs. Her tummy rumbled, but she knew she’d have to make do with her mug of water and the leftover remnants of her fish paste and now warm cucumber sandwich from her lunch bag. She carefully opened the brown paper wrapping and took a bite. The bread was stale now, and the crusts were hard and dry. She didn’t want to eat it but knew she’d only get into more trouble with her mother if she left it. She’d had enough of being told off today, so she chewed hard and swallowed it down with the now tepid water from her mug.

By now, she was tired and thought she might as well go to bed rather than dare to go back downstairs only to be yelled at again. She tiptoed into the bathroom to splash her face and clean her teeth and crept back to her bedroom. She climbed into her pink-striped pyjamas and pulled on the pale blue bed socks that her grandma had knitted for her last Christmas; it was always so cold in her bedroom at night. She didn’t even have the luxury of a hot water bottle to keep her warm. Nevertheless, she felt safe in bed and pulled Peter close to her. She could talk to him about her worries and fears without the risk of being told not to make such a fuss. She lay there covered with her grey blanket and her paisley eiderdown, which always felt so comforting. Finally, she drifted off into a deep sleep …

… TO BE CONTINUED TOMORROW.

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

My Success

(Photo by Thought Catalog on Unsplash)

I thought I was never good enough
At least, that’s what I was told
Just when I thought I’d be a-okay
And my life would be paved with gold

~~~

Given what I had been through
From the tender age of eight
It’s hardly surprising my dream died a death
I’d never amounted to anything great

~~~

I failed my exams at eleven plus*
I flunked most of my GCSEs
My teachers couldn’t understand
Everyone else passed with ease

~~~

I wanted to be a speech therapist
For people who’d pulled through a stroke
But, without a university degree
They thought I was a bit of a joke

~~~

Instead, I became a secretary
And learned to do shorthand and type
I worked in the City of London
Learning Office Practice and Skype

~~~

I applied to a shipping company
And there had a wonderful boss
I came on leaps and bounds
I was far from being a loss

~~~
I worked in whole life insurance
And then, I went on to a bank
I proved all the teachers wrong
I was NOT as thick as a plank!

(Photo by Romain V on Unsplash)

* The eleven-plus is a standardized examination administered to some students in England and Northern Ireland in their last year of primary education, which governs admission to grammar schools and other secondary schools which use academic selection. The name derives from the age group for secondary entry: 11–12 years

Taken from Wikipedia