Turning missiles into ploughshares

Part of the Trident: we don't buy it tour blog



"7.30am - time to get up!"

I open my eyes to total darkness and there is the usual momentary confusion. Bex and I are sleeping in a small cabin deep in the cavernous depths of the hold. There is no natural light and the darkness is comforting at night, like a favourite blanket, wrapping itself protectively around you, but disorientating in the morning, as you don't know what time it is. I can't remember what day it is and what I am supposed to be doing.