Not yet pensioned off

It's been blowing a hoolie here the past two days with a chilly wind from the North sending me back to my winter woolies and the washing on the line careening like crazy. The sweater hanging at the end is my second son's favourite but it used to be mine and is actually older than he is. I call it my Greenham jumper because it's the one I used to wear for night watches at Greenham Common. For those not in the know, this was the name of the airfield in Berkshire where the British government allowed the USAF to base nuclear-armed cruise missiles aimed the Soviet bloc. On a wet December day in 1982 30,000 women gathered there to join hands around the 6 mile perimeter fence and cover it with personal items, photographs, poems and so on to signal their disgust at the death-dealing armaments being housed within. From 1981 to 2000 a women's peace camp remained at the gates of the base, protesting against the weapons. Its occupants were evicted many times and were frequently abused and attacked but they never quit. The camp remained in situ until 2000, some years after the missiles had been removed. At its height there were women stationed at all 6 gates, night and day, enduring the most rudimentary conditions, living and sleeping in tents, bivvies and benders for months or even years at a time. They became expert at cutting the fence and penetrating the base to impede the routine and to demonstrate the lax security. The women were subject to arrests, court appearances, fines and imprisonment as well as harassment by vigilante squads, police and locals. I joined the major demonstrations at Greenham but did not camp there. However I occasionally did a night watch to relieve the permanent campers who had to maintain vigilance at all times. A friend and I would drive down in the evening and spend the night sitting up around a camp fire at one of the 6 gates while the residents crept off into the bushes to try and get some uninterrupted sleep. This was the sweater I always wore. It's old but still good with a few darns. You could say a sweater is always a sweater however old it is.

So is an artist. This morning I was appalled to find the BBC News website flagging up an item with the words Pensioner wins modern art award.
Margaret Harrison, 72, has won a £16,500 art prize for a recreation of the perimeter fence from the Greenham Common airbase at the time of the women's peace camp in the 1980s.
Wha-a-at! "Pensioner" is a knee-jerk word used by the tabloid press to suggest a shabby, pathetic individual shuffling along the street with a plastic bag containing a small sliced loaf and a tin of catfood. The fact that Ms Harrison is over 70 does not make her in any way more remarkable, or less of an artist, than David Hockney (75) or Lucien Freud (89 when he died in 2011) or L.S.Lowry (also died aged 89). As for Picasso, Matisse and Braque, let's not even go there. Are they ever referred to as pensioners? No, because they were MEN. I'm still seething about this!

Margaret Harrison's accurate imitation of the Greenham perimeter fence here.
My own photographs of Embrace the Base in 1982, poor quality but the real thing, here.
Something about Greenham Common women's peace camp by Sarah Hipperson who lived there for the whole 19 years, here.
Greenham Common is now a peaceful stretch of common land again with a commemorative marker to recall the peace camp.

Edit: the BBC has removed the word pensioner in response to complaints - yay!