There was some purple hair, but not of the old-school grandma
– more the shiny punkified version. There were many purple scarves, the
colour of the suffragettes. There was a lot of shy smiling going on as
the 200 or so crowded together on the steps of St Paul's Cathedral, with
the drums pounding (but not too loudly) and the recorders making
tuneless gaiety and all around the trappings of a happening were on
display. There were placards – "Grandmothers Against Detention of
Refugee Children" – there were little chains of cut-out children worn as
necklaces.



Denise Scott, a grandmother on television, and perhaps one in
real life, depending on the roaming adventures of her musician son – Ms
Scott couldn't be sure – kept the mood momentarily light: "I had to
remove facial hair today using Braille ... but, who didn't?"




At one point she thanked the police for their patient
attendance before warning them to "watch out"; activist grandmothers
were on the verge of going off.



The hilarity subsided when Dr Gwenda Davey told the story of
sitting around a kitchen table six months ago with some other women and
deciding enough was enough. They were appalled "with what was happening
to asylum-seeker children in Australian-run detention centres". They
decided that "if we could get a few grandmothers together we could lobby
for change".




As she spoke of the Human Rights Commission findings of
despair, the stories from whistleblowers themselves made mentally ill
from working in detention centres, and the lack of hope among the more
than 900 children locked up for hundreds of days at a time, Dr Davey
began to cry, imagining her own grandchildren in such circumstances.



There were songs, and rituals of women swapping scarves as an
incantatory invitation to grandmothers everywhere to get on board; and
there were more speeches.



But really, there wasn't a lot to say. The protest didn't require a lot of words. The message was a simple one.



"It just isn't right," said Jan Govett, who had travelled
down by train with two other grandmothers who are involved in raising
awareness about refugees in their community.



One of those grandmothers simply said: "It makes me ashamed."