STRIKE 2014: ‘I’m sick and tired of whining public sector workers’

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Growing up in the 1970s/1980s in the London suburbs was great, even strikes seemed fun. Electricity strikes meant candles, Green Goddesses were something to spot.

Then my dad took me into the city and I saw and smelt the piles of rubbish in the London streets due to local Government strikes.

Not long afterwards, my mother, a teacher who taught even when diagnosed with cancer, came home, her hair full of dried phlegm, having been spat on, jostled and called a “Blackleg” by picketing ‘colleagues’ as she refused to strike. Her pupils were in exam period and she simply wanted the best for them.


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