I was in bed as I had to be at school the next day.

When I was awoken in the morning by my mother and told the news. It was no great surprise, but was no less devastating I had already developed a deep seated hatred of Thatcher and the news reinforced that hatred. My hatred was mostly directed at those greedy bastards in the south of England you had voted for the evil whore.

When I went to school it was the main topic of conversation in the playground. At morning assembly we said prayers for him and his family and for peace in Ireland. I was astounded that Thatcher’s intransigence had reached such astronomical levels. Over the years she managed to surpass those levels. She devastated the industries in Scotland. She started the Miners Strike to smash the unions. She started the Falklands war to, in true fascist style save her Job. She depended on Loyalist/Union support to facilitate her anti working class policies.

I was 12 years old ffs! How could I see it and others couldn’t see it? I suspect they could see it. It was the I’m all right (union) Jack attitude.

Well I went to school, at dinner time, we were want to go down the street and get a chippy but when we got to the watsonville playing grounds, some arseholes from the Dalziel high school thought themselves really cool with chants of, “could you go a chicken supper Bobby Sands”

We retreated, much to their derision, and returned with a healthy supply of milk bottles liberated from doorsteps and gave them a bloody good hiding.

It became the Battle of Watsonville.

My first involvement in direct action. Aged 12.