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London, UK

I got the train down from St Neots (Cambridgeshire) with my first child who was three and a half months old at the time.  Without the use of a mobile phone (yes, really) I managed to meet up with my parents who had come down on a coach from Newcastle.

Eleanor was snuggled up in a snowsuit and strapped to my chest for her first (but not last) political demonstration.  I remember it being a very cold day, and after sitting on a bench at one point to feed Eleanor I then changed her nappy and remember feeling very sorry for her having to bare her little bottom to the elements.

I also remember trying to cover her little ears when some of the whistles got really loud (she was my first baby – I was protective!)  The march was packed very tightly and we were moving very slowly, so I dipped out just before we got to the end because I couldn’t guarantee that if things got a little crushed people would notice I had a baby strapped to me.

I have been on countless demonstrations and I always find them very moving.  Having that many people there and being with my daughter made it even more so that usual I think.  Whilst it saddens me to think that I might soon be taking her on an ‘anniversary’ demo, that certainly doesn’t mean we will be giving up any time soon.
No justice, no peace.
Troops out now.
Freedom for Palestine.