24 May

10am, Clapham, London: I woke up in my house with a slight headache. Last night I’d met up with a group of friends from school who all live in London. We had a discussion until 1 am about all of the heartaches women face in Ireland. No matter what positions we reach, no matter how much money we earn, women in Ireland are still unequal.

11am: I packed my bag with one outfit and some make-up as I would only be in Ireland for a day and a half, similar to the situations that Irish women find themselves in when they travel to the UK to get an abortion.

Midday, Clapham Junction train station, London: The entire day I was nervous, tripping over my words at the train station when buying my ticket before tripping over the steps when walking to the platform. I wasn’t sure why I was so nervous, but it was something inside me that I couldn’t shake off.

1pm, Gatwick airport: Although I was early for my flight I power walked through the airport. I didn’t want anything to tip me over the edge. But deep down I was hoping not to see was a lonely Irish woman flying back home, distraught and distressed.

2pm: I looked around the room where my flight was boarding, frantically searching for a Yes badge or a Repeal T-shirt, only to notice that I had forgotten mine. I realised that in my rush to get ready I had forgotten my tiny piece of armour. To let the outside world know that I was a little nervous. A sort of “beware” badge of honour.

Why I travelled home to vote in the Irish referendum