off the armchair

To call myself an armchair activist isn’t strictly true. I’m more of an armchair tutterer.

Tut tut, I say as injustice drip feeds into the living room with the 6 o’clock news. Tut tut, I mutter to a cosy Sunday afternoon, curled up with atrocities in the pages of a newspaper. Occasionally I might text a few quid to the acute end of a chronic problem, or sign my name on an e-petition whilst stopping short of forwarding it to friends. At my most active I wrote some letters for an Amnesty International appeal, but never quite got round to buying stamps.

No, I’m not even an armchair activist. I have a lovely cherry red chesterfield, and use it only to support bad posture and passivity. In all probability that would have been that – except it isn’t an armchair. It’s a sofa. Sitting beside me – with her feet on my lap – is my girlfriend, Beth. (That’s not her real name; we’ve been told it’s a good idea to make them up. I’ll fill you in on that later.) She doesn’t settle with a Tut tut; she buys the stamps. I guess with someone like that in your life one thing will inevitably lead to another. In October we’ll be heading to the West Bank with a humanitarian organization, standing in solidarity with the Palestinian people. In Getting off the Armchair I’ll be writing about our preparation for this, and will continue to post whilst there.