I’ve done a few political things in my time. Knocking on doors, protesting, leafleting. Last night I was a steward for Green Party leader Natalie Bennet’s talk at Exeter University. The last political meeting this big I went to was with the SWP in the 80s. I didn’t share their politics, but Aswad were playing, so it was a free coach trip and gig, away from my grim homeless existence in Manchester.
It was raining, and, stood outside, with Tom, a green student, I helped direct people to the talk. I remarked to Tom, how popular Natalie must be, if we didn’t even need to put bands on as a way to tempt young people in.
When I joined the Green Party, I don’t know what I expected. Leafleting, that kind of thing.
Actions that change the world are not thrilling, or glamorous, most of the time, despite what the media would have you think.
Political action is not exciting. It’s mostly, for me at least, standing around in the cold and wet, talking to people.
The revolution is in the rain, in the words, in the smiles. That’s where change happens, in thoughts, in feelings, in deeds.
I walked home. Soaking wet, and changed into my tartan pyjamas and slippers, like the old man I’m on the cusp of becoming. I looked to my phone, and to Twitter. There at least, I can be comfortable and dry, while pushing for change.