I went to the People’s Vote march on Saturday. It’s a long haul in a space suit from Brighton and the trains weren’t running with NASA efficiency, but I got there OK and was glad to have done it. You can’t often measure the significance of personal acts of protest in the moment, but I hope it to be one of those moments when I can say to my grandchildren that I was there and that to be with a million other people really meant something. The mood was good-natured anxiety, the placards were British everyday humour at its best and I was glad to astonish quite a few kids with my costume.
