Wednesday 30 March 2011

On The 26March



‘Deleted’.

A word that is still provoking a reaction. It is, goes one such comment, ‘an angry word’.

And I agree. It is not a nice word. It has associations with other words like erased, wiped, crossed out, cancelled, removed, expunged, obliterated, demolished, eliminated….no trace left.

But I make no apology for using it because it makes me angry to hear this word ascribed to my job and the jobs of friends and colleagues who have also been under the cosh of the cuts. I reclaim the word to satisfy my anger and give it back to the world as a transformative word.

I went to the 26March – only the second march I have been on.  It was huge, even more so than my first march, the Anti War one, I reckon.  Amazing to see so many people, so many representatives of so many work places with the real message for the government – there is an alternative, why do ordinary people have to pay when the bankers are still rolling in it, is this a class war.

I missed all the marches in the 70s despite many an exhortation from the bearded chappie from the Workers’ Revolutionary Party who used to raise me from my Sunday morning stupor for a good old rant on the doorstep. My flatmate at the time was a member and he was always hoping to convert me but youthful resistance was strong. I preferred raving to marching and asked then, what difference could it make?

Now I am prepared to get out there and show my face, I still ask, what difference can it make.  A lot of the media, as usual,  is intent on dressing down the direct action people, thus supporting the government in ignoring the message.

We stopped for a coffee on Piccadilly and happened to watch the group of black clad anarchists go past with their black and red flags. We commented on how peaceable and non anarchic they seemed, even with the loud bangs at intervals and the subtle paint bomb that just appeared on De Beers opposite us. We saw the police race after them as they moved on to give the Ritz a bit more of a paint balling. Some of them probably cranked it up a bit later as the sun went down and police always like to join in with the general mayhem. But in the great history of protest marching, this appeared to me to be a quiet, restrained and sombre one.

To be on the receiving end of ‘the cuts’, to be facing an uncertain future, to watch all the support networks for the most vulnerable in society crumble, to be part of the necessary collateral damage to cover up a global banking crisis, to be ‘deleted’ – is, frankly, crap.

Never mind the broken windows, beware a (BIG) broken society. I shall continue to protest, albeit without a balaclava and flag. My job has been deleted, but, me, hey I will still kicking up those traces and have plenty of voice left……


Wednesday 23 March 2011

RedHoodRising. Root of the what are you going to call yourself question.


Lunch date asked me why I have called myself RedHoodRising, so for any curious souls….

The Red is for my hair that has been called many things complimentary and insulting throughout the years. ‘That one with the red hair…..’ has been a constant refrain. As it is now fading into strawberry blonde (blonde at last!) its bane and glory remain key to my identification.

The Hood is for the Hood of course. Nuff said.

Rising refers to resurgam – I will rise again – ex  cineribus - out of the ashes – from my ignominious removal from ‘working’ life.

The whole is pinched from Little Red Riding Hood, a magical fairy tale which has been reworked so many times  but is essentially (early forerunner from 1023 Fecunda Ratis) about a girl in the company of wolves who is swallowed alive yet returns unharmed.  Yes I know I am more Grandmother than Little Redcap but I still dream and hunger for life.

Thursday 17 March 2011

Deleted and free


Welcome to my blog – I’m going to be updating my experiences of being a Freewoman.
My friend asked me why I was referring to myself as ‘deleted’. She thought it sounded like I was feeling down about the ‘r’ word. No, I said, that was how the Machine termed it. My post has been deleted, not me, of course, but hey, it sounded a lot like I had been deleted to me, so I have kept the reference as a reminder for how that first conversation with the boss came across. And how the words, ‘have you got a minute’ suddenly took on a whole new meaning.
I decided then that it was preferable to be on the receiving end of such a missive and grateful that I shall never have to say the same to anyone.
So, here I am, four weeks in and so far so good. Having worked for forty odd years of my life with just a nine month break for procreation, I reckon I deserve a break. Even before the governments started wittering on about the need to look for work, whatever the circumstances, I was their best advert for a woman who did not hang about on the hand outs. Having realised that my income at the time barely covered the nursery fees, I went back to study for a teaching degree as soon as my daughter started school (to give me the holidays).  Luckily, back in those days I got a grant which just and so kept the wolf from the door alongside working as well. My extra income came from running playschemes and being ‘Judy’ and the ‘Hangman’ in a slightly more feminist version of Punch and Judy -  Judy worked as a mechanic on Ford Cortinas at the bottom of a tower block and her handbag opened to reveal a set of tools. And she took on the final battle with the crocodile ‘on the other side’ with much gusto. Fond memories: one particularly fun outing was the summer festival where we were giving it our all in a hot and dusty booth when over the top appeared a python, someone’s idea of audience participation no doubt. Did we retreat in horror, dear friend? Why no, the show continued with a choice comment from Mr Punch and an exchange of exasperated glances between myself and partner as we ducked down lower into the booth. The show goes on, always.
The sun is shining today and I have a lunch date. My diary is still full though now includes things like walking, swimming, theatre and gardening. One day I must consider a return to the machine but not yet……
Peace.