Her constant refrain, throughout, was how amazing it was that me and Stace weren’t more bothered about the demise of the Greater London Council (GLC) or the impending nuclear holocaust, even though, more often than not, we were right there with her at the protest. There was never any photographic proof of this, it being considered frivolous to treat a march like a sightseeing event, so the only times, in retrospect, something definitely happened, it was because it got covered in the Wandsworth Borough News. “Do you know, when the Iraq war broke out, these girls didn’t even notice?” Gwen would say. Or: “Heaven help constitutional reform when the next generation won’t even stop drinking cider in their bedrooms to go to a Charter 88 meeting.”