I’ve just been back to greenham common, and spent time there with a group of women who also lived, or visited the peace camp on such a regular basis that it was an integral part to their lives. We sat around the fire, swapped stories, reminisced and sang songs. It felt like the land held a memory of our past presence there, and warmed to us being back. It felt, in the now overgrown space that was once the home of “orange gate” that we entered a bubble of timelesness, that no time had passed at all since we had left. Women quickly fell into old roles, and familiar habits. In the quiet moments, you could almost pick up on the sounds of the past.
We remembered the women who are no longer with us, and left hearts in places on the common as a dedication to them.
I feel so blessed and happy to have been back, and to have reconnected with old memories that where buried far too long.May the spirit of greenham always be, in all its wildness, and wiseness, and mysteriousness, and beauty, in all it’s mischeviousness, in all the women who ever went there, in all our aspirations. This is something bigger than political rhetoric, and can’t be contained within an academic textbook.