A day in Parliament

On the 25th May 2004 I presented myself, along with a friend at the entrance to the House of Commons. After the usual security checks we were ushered inside to be met by my MP’s PA and found ourselves taking tea in one of the rather select venues that our elected representatives allow themselves.

Very much a case of how the other half lives! The next act in this rather exciting day was to enter the public gallery (we actually had permission to

enter the open press galleries but due to the idiocies a few days before when some clown had thrown purple dye at the PM, we ended up in the little glazed box at one end) to watch the final debates in the passage of what was still, at that time, the Gender Recognition Bill.

The actual debate rather passed one by, although an occasional ignorant and bigoted comment could still be heard from that tiny minority who simply could not seem to comprehend that all the passage of this Bill would do would be to undo thirty years of discrimination and unreasoning cruelty. I was, I have to admit, wryly amused when one particularly unpleasant specimen of the genus MP (I’ll name no names for fear of being sued) flounced out in a huff when his final attempts at some rather sickening amendments came to nought.

Finally the moment for the vote came and the Bill was overwhelmingly endorsed and became the Gender Recognition Act 2004. Silence and decorum are, of course, supposed to be maintained in the Strangers’ Gallery, but the few of us who were there whom the bill actually effected could not forbear from raising a quiet cheer.

The few who were in attendance headed off to celebrate. Unfortunately (or, perhaps, fortunately) I could not stay as I was flying out on holiday the following day and needed to get home to finish packing. I say fortunately, as the friend I’d gone along with emailed me the following day to complain of a Champagne induced headache although I didn’t pick the message up until my return to the UK.

As a postscript, for myself, the enactment of this law has freed me from fifteen years of being an Orwellian ‘unperson’ and, it is fair to say, has caused a quiet revolution in my life and that of my partner of twelve years. We plan to marry in 2006.