Silence, here, is not golden

It’s not often I rear my head from its apathetic little resting place. No, that’s not true, I often rear my head but don’t often move my butt. On Saturday I did and it felt good to be shouting “Viva” with hundreds of other red,black and white-clad protesters marching against the new Secrecy Bill that is threatening to endanger our beautiful country’s freedom of speech.

There’s something about group action that turns the very air around a gaggle of protestors electric. It’s as if all the atoms are rubbing together from the heat of people’s anger and passion for something they truly believe in.

It was a beautiful, hot day and I’d overdressed, not having paid attention to The Weatherman’s forecast. Luckily there were people handing out little blue bags filled with water. I have to admit to us getting particularly juvenile with them, but what do you expect on a very hot day with passion in the air and tiny blue plastic bags of water you can bite and squirt like a water pistol?

Now we wait with bated breath to see if our protest not to be silenced fell on deaf ears.