From pale blush to bright red

It feels odd to be newly politically aware at the age of 37. But its only now I realise how spoilt I have been... sure I was brought up in the 70s and 80s but actually I don't remember the three day week, the miners strike was something that happened on the news and long doom stories about wards shutting were as as inevitable as Easter. Sharing wall paper bound text books and sitting in portacabins in crumbling schools happened to everyone, apart from posh people who had to pay for an education that didn't include days off for striking teachers (as a grammar schoolgirl we despised the private lot as "rich but thick").

We all hated Thatcher of course - the sixth form common room erupted in cheers when she was finally ousted, but until I turned 37 my most political acts were refusing to pay my poll tax (my mum paid it for me so it was a bit of a non protest) and staying up all night THAT night in 97 when the Tories who had dominated my whole life finally were expelled from Government. But I now realise, lucky me! There has been no need to be political, instead I have been complacent with my whole working and marital life lived under a Labour Government.

Of course we've had our ups and downs. The war felt like a betrayal and ID cards made me cross eyed with rage and yet, despite very bad personal recession fall out, I have remained a pale blush red. Not political, unthinking but sure this is the right way and the everyone else would remember the eighties and would never be stupid enough to vote the Tories back in whatever Murdoch said! But the day before budget day knowing two millionaire trustafarians are about to start stripping this country bare with no real mandate makes me realise blush isn't good enough. The colour has to be red.