I ate two breakfasts in preparation for yesterday's pro-choice demo. I stood, I clapped, I cheered; I wore a miniature placard in my buttonhole; I did not chant, because chanting makes me feel like a tool. And after an hour my legs decided that standing up was no longer a viable option and we staggered home to spend the rest of the day in bed. In conclusion: there is a reason I do not go on protest marches.
The Queer Resistance crew were awesome. My favourite placard, which I didn't manage to get a picture of, said "Some men have wombs. Get over it."
George V, with a pigeon on his head, looked surprisingly like Ming the Merciless.
Can't fault the sentiment, but I am curious as to how a wooden coathanger would have been used to procure an abortion.
And finally: my Mum-knitted Canada goose does not approve of abstinence-only education.