Yes my 80 year old friends were at the front last night.  Demonstrating against the Prime Minister, they were attacked with horses, water hoses, and, basically everything but the kitchen sink.  They weren’t blocking the roads, they weren’t holding up traffic, they were demonstrating.  And they were joined by the families of hostages, and even released hostages who also got hit.  

I had been thinking of going but felt a bit too weak, to vulnerable.  Yet I went to sleep feeling guilty that I was doing my poetry workshop (and with a bad poem about a picture of myself, yet) instead of my public duty.