As time passed it was very difficult to see that there would ever be an end. It turned into a war of attrition, the Iron Lady and NCB under McGregor were not going to give in and neither were the NUM. The foot soldiers, the miners and the police, were doing what they had to, but reason was rapidly going out of the window in the face of propaganda fuelled desperation.
I knew that I would probably be viewed as a lily livered Liberal, even a traitor to the cause for my views. Quite frankly I didn’t care. Every man had a right to make his own decisions and stand by them. At no point did I consider my father a ‘scab’ because he was working. For a time my husband joined the pickets, I didn’t stop him, but I made it clear I disapproved. I hated that the NUM had seen fit to override the will of every man who voted not to strike, including my husband. For him to then picket those who had overridden the will of the NUM was at best hypocritical. Scabs (strike breakers) had always been hated, especially in the Coal Industry that had a long history of hard fought disputes. Memories were long and bitter.