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alixandreaI'm writing my own diary entry of all the events in London as I saw them, before I read any other reports or diaries of the day. That way my account won't be coloured by anger or frustration at unfair reporting. I'll include URLs to other reports at the end.
So...
My day started roughly 2 1/2 hours after my last entry. After going to bed fully clothed I awoke and woozily staggered around the flat getting stuff ready. I packed water, scarves and a notepad, along with my ID and phone, just in case, and headed out to my bike. The sun was still shining but there was a cold breeze and I was glad of the layers I had on. I cycled to the station, bought a ticket (fully £15 cheaper than earlier!!) and caught the 10:15 to Kings Cross.
My beautiful steed - the often rather flighty BloodWraith - was in fine form as we sped up to Hyde Park. I had plenty of time, but cycling in London is rather like being on a slow motorway at rush hour, just before the crash that brings them all to a standstill. In other words it was manic! I only had to spit at one van as he cut me up though, so I guess the Wraith managed to prove she could cope.
I made Speakers Corner in record time with only one wrong turn just before Hyde Park, and sat down with my breakfast in the middle of a rag-tag group of people already waiting there. The scarves came out and adorned my bike as I watched people arrive. The lady in the mermaid costume was fairly mobbed by various press, all searching for that 'exclusive' interview...
I met one of the Cambridge Critical Mass groups (of which there are apparently 2, but both are small) but decided to set off on my own as the (rather small) parade got up and started heading towards Mayfair, with much cheering, clapping and whistle blowing. I shouldn't have really been surprised at the lack of people, after all it had been a lousy few days weather-wise, it was a weekday and the police had told people that violence was expected. Nevertheless, I was a bit disappointed having been on two much larger CND rallies from the same place. The procession was starting from several different points so I hoped the crowd would grow as we went on.
It did. By the time we reached the Mayfair area we were a much larger crowd, and I often found it difficult to keep the Wraith in line. Lack of sleep made my reaction times awful and I lost count of the number of times I failed to stop when someone in front of me did. Glad I wasn't driving!
The police escort slowly gathered in size and we found ourselves being cordoned off from our main target again and again. Round and round in spirals we marched until we eventually got out onto Oxford Street. It was here that we realised we had been cut off from the main group of protesters and were again a small band of a couple of hundred at the most. The police were evidently using our own divide and conquer techniques. Someone suggested we regroup and perhaps try to 'Reclaim' Oxford Street, but a lack of people, plus the fear that we would ultimately be herded into Trafalgar Square a la last year kept us moving back to Hyde Park. The most empowering part of the march was walking down the middle of Oxford Street and Park Lane, threading through the cars, preventing them from getting anywhere fast.
I stopped in the little area between the two carriageways of Park Lane and had a rest. My legs were killing me and fatigue was setting in. I needed food. Luckily I had been in touch with Glen who had been following the parade at some distance up Oxford Street. After a few false starts trying to find me (what is that little park called?) he showed up in That T-Shirt (gorgeous blue with bats on!) and proceeded to whip up a picnic of pilchards in sauce, croissants and cottage cheese. (Spoiled, me?!) As we ate, we watched a parade work its way down the road, with some people jumping on the back of a truck, much to the driver's bemusement. The combination of food and more drink (non-alcoholic, I wasn’t going to be caught cycling over the limit, oh no...) made me realise how much I needed the loo, so off I went in search of one. I found a locked loo, and (more interestingly) at least 10 police motorbikes and 4 (?) Meatwagons parked up, their drivers sitting around doing nowt more than chatting – one was even asleep!!
Glen and I decided instead to head for a pub - after all, one drink wouldn’t hurt – and soon found ourselves in Dean Street, which was apparently where the carnival had ended up. We stopped in a pub just up the road from the festivities, got a drink, then decided to head down the street to join in, leaving our bikes locked to some railings.
The festival was in fine form, with carniball, drumming, cheering and dancing. Stef rang me right in the middle of it, and was glad to hear I hadn’t been arrested and was in a place easy to escape from (Soho has so many little back streets.) Glen and I then decided to get our bikes, and while doing so met a group of teenagers to whom we gave the last of our cookies. We planned to cycle around the area to see where the peripheries lay and also whether there was anything else of interest going on. A brief reconnoitre showed more meat wagons than would ever have been necessary, many parked the wrong way up the one way roads, some with their engines running (GRRRR!!! Huge pet hate of mine...) plenty of foot soldiers and a movement of the main body. We followed slowly behind, giving just enough room to get out quickly if necessary. In one of the side roads connecting Dean and Wardour streets the first scuffle broke. The police looked as if they had been trying to form a cordon at the end, but it was broken and they ended up on either side of the road, hemmed in by protesters. Glad they got to see what it was like being herded into a small area and kept there. There was little more than a swap of words as the police tried to regain their control.
The party moved back up the street again, the police keeping up on either side. Confusion ensued as they arrested a man and were immediately surrounded again by protesters chanting ‘let him go, let him go!’ One of the officers raised his gloved right hand for re-enforcements and another pulled out his baton. Another scuffle ensued, although I didn’t see whether they did let the guy go. Glen found a right hand police glove on the floor (on a different part of the road) and tried to give it back, but the officers weren’t interested so he kept it.
The party once again turned and headed the other way, it was as if they were deliberately trying to confuse us. At the end of the street was the entrance to Wardour Street, which was blocked across by a massive coach. There was still enough room for us to squeeze through, and here we found another part of the procession, the drummers and dancers were having a party and we were all invited! Here was a real Reclaim the Streets, with chalk graffiti, chanting, ‘Who’s streets? Our streets!’ drumming and dancing. We slowly threaded our way up the road as it started to rain, huge drops like golf balls. Yet I didn’t feel like I was getting wet. The atmosphere was electric, an Anti-capitalist rain dance; as I looked up at the police helicopters lightning flashed across the sky. It was beautiful, all these happy people all together and in harmony, not caring about the rain, dancing and drinking and enjoying themselves. The group of teenagers re-appeared as a woman tried to drive her car from where it was parked through us. First someone sat on her bonnet, then the girl from the group started dancing in front of it, moving forward by inches as the car drove slowly down the street. I couldn’t help laughing, and after she let the car go Glen gave the girl some water.
We moved up the street and decided to stand in the lee of a parked car for a bit, so that the protesters could move around us. We watched the drummers and the dancers who were now dancing in perfect formation, fielded beach balls, and saw a guy with a plastic knife with a hole in the middle. He dipped it in something and suddenly there were bubbles coming from the middle of the knife! What a fantastic concept, I think the Anti-War lot should give them out at demos! The procession once again moved first forward then back, and things took a sinister turn as riot police started arriving, filtering through the crowd. I began to feel nervous, it was obvious they were trying to cordon again, so Glen and I slowly edged around the car and forward towards Oxford Street. I wanted out now, but each side street was cordoned off already. In the first one, people had tried to push through the cordon, but having had no luck they instead turned their backs to the police, spread out and linked arms, effectively creating their own cordon to prevent the officers from moving forward.
We carried on heading towards Oxford Street, and found ourselves able to get through at the top end, as the riot police hadn’t made their cordon there yet. I smiled gently as we walked through, allowing them to get out of my way in their own time and basically trying not to make them think I was a threat. Why perpetuate their ideas? It was the first time I’ve ever seen the riot police; they had the full get-up, shields, helmets and body armour. It was really intimidating, especially as I’m so small.
As Glen and I turned to look at the whole procession from outside we realised something unpleasant was happening. There were now three police helicopters in the sky, and incredibly as we looked we saw a military one fly over as well. Whether it was there for us or on another mission I don’t know, (it disappeared) but if they wanted to look threatening they certainly achieved it. The cordon was made at our end and the riot police started to march (fairly briskly) forward. We watched the flags at the far end moving forward a lot more slowly and realised people were being squeezed. I got out my notebook, and with cold hands wrote this:
“The whole day so far has been relatively peaceful. A few scuffles here and there but mainly dancing and drumming and drinking. We’re on Wardour Street and have been watching the dancing. Slowly we became aware of the riot police. Moving in in 1s and 2s, slowly but surely cutting off all escape routes.
“And then they move forward, effectively crushing people into a smaller space.
Reinforcements just arrived.
“No wonder people get angry. This is provocation!”
I don’t know what happened further down the street; I hope everyone got out safely. Glen and I decided to take the opportunity to finish the last of our food, having a picnic on Wardour Street in the lee of a building. By now it was getting cold and dark, so we decided to call it a day and head back to Kings Cross (via a pub of course! ;-) )
All in all, I’m glad I went. I had promised myself several years ago, after not making the one that really kicked off, that I would go to a MayDay protest parade, and I’m glad I chose this one, as it was so peaceful and fun. Plus the thunderstorm with the drumming and dancing was fantastic, despite Thor missing the police helicopters… ;-) I guess we really were drumming up a storm!
Glen's account: http://www.livejournal.com/talkread.bml?journal=glensc&itemid=48260
The Independent: http://news.independent.co.uk/uk/this_britain/story.jsp?story=291040
"The route read like a roll-call of the ostentatious and the elite. And they were all boarded up. For one day only, as the sales pitch goes, the tills were quiet. Like an anti-capitalist's dream, London's poshest boutiques in Mayfair, its most exclusive quarter, had battened down the hatches in the face of nothing more than whistles, banners and silly hats."
Hehehe! :-)
BBC (or praise the police and paint the protesters badly...): http://news.bbc.co.uk/hi/english/uk/england/newsid_1963000/1963600.stm
"But during the violence that followed, five officers were hurt, four had minor injuries and one suffered a broken arm when a fire extinguisher was thrown at him in Shaftesbury Avenue."
I wonder how many of the protesters got hurt by the police...?
(slightly O/T) The Guardian - funny french drawing: http://www.guardian.co.uk/cartoons/stevebell/0,7371,708597,00.html
The Guardian: (various from here) http://www.guardian.co.uk/mayday/0,7368,475106,00.html
The Times (ick, some of the other reports are crap!):
http://www.timesonline.co.uk/article/0,,2-284999,00.html
"Claudia and Fidgit say the police’s strategy was divide and conquer. The police were trying to provoke a confrontation to make the anarchists look as if they were spoiling for a fight. “Well, we are not going to play!” says Fidgit."
Too true!
Very funny (on my screen ATM)thanx Tom! :-)
http://www.livejournal.com/talkread.bml?journal=thamshere&itemid=51624
etc. That's enough I think...
So...
My day started roughly 2 1/2 hours after my last entry. After going to bed fully clothed I awoke and woozily staggered around the flat getting stuff ready. I packed water, scarves and a notepad, along with my ID and phone, just in case, and headed out to my bike. The sun was still shining but there was a cold breeze and I was glad of the layers I had on. I cycled to the station, bought a ticket (fully £15 cheaper than earlier!!) and caught the 10:15 to Kings Cross.
My beautiful steed - the often rather flighty BloodWraith - was in fine form as we sped up to Hyde Park. I had plenty of time, but cycling in London is rather like being on a slow motorway at rush hour, just before the crash that brings them all to a standstill. In other words it was manic! I only had to spit at one van as he cut me up though, so I guess the Wraith managed to prove she could cope.
I made Speakers Corner in record time with only one wrong turn just before Hyde Park, and sat down with my breakfast in the middle of a rag-tag group of people already waiting there. The scarves came out and adorned my bike as I watched people arrive. The lady in the mermaid costume was fairly mobbed by various press, all searching for that 'exclusive' interview...
I met one of the Cambridge Critical Mass groups (of which there are apparently 2, but both are small) but decided to set off on my own as the (rather small) parade got up and started heading towards Mayfair, with much cheering, clapping and whistle blowing. I shouldn't have really been surprised at the lack of people, after all it had been a lousy few days weather-wise, it was a weekday and the police had told people that violence was expected. Nevertheless, I was a bit disappointed having been on two much larger CND rallies from the same place. The procession was starting from several different points so I hoped the crowd would grow as we went on.
It did. By the time we reached the Mayfair area we were a much larger crowd, and I often found it difficult to keep the Wraith in line. Lack of sleep made my reaction times awful and I lost count of the number of times I failed to stop when someone in front of me did. Glad I wasn't driving!
The police escort slowly gathered in size and we found ourselves being cordoned off from our main target again and again. Round and round in spirals we marched until we eventually got out onto Oxford Street. It was here that we realised we had been cut off from the main group of protesters and were again a small band of a couple of hundred at the most. The police were evidently using our own divide and conquer techniques. Someone suggested we regroup and perhaps try to 'Reclaim' Oxford Street, but a lack of people, plus the fear that we would ultimately be herded into Trafalgar Square a la last year kept us moving back to Hyde Park. The most empowering part of the march was walking down the middle of Oxford Street and Park Lane, threading through the cars, preventing them from getting anywhere fast.
I stopped in the little area between the two carriageways of Park Lane and had a rest. My legs were killing me and fatigue was setting in. I needed food. Luckily I had been in touch with Glen who had been following the parade at some distance up Oxford Street. After a few false starts trying to find me (what is that little park called?) he showed up in That T-Shirt (gorgeous blue with bats on!) and proceeded to whip up a picnic of pilchards in sauce, croissants and cottage cheese. (Spoiled, me?!) As we ate, we watched a parade work its way down the road, with some people jumping on the back of a truck, much to the driver's bemusement. The combination of food and more drink (non-alcoholic, I wasn’t going to be caught cycling over the limit, oh no...) made me realise how much I needed the loo, so off I went in search of one. I found a locked loo, and (more interestingly) at least 10 police motorbikes and 4 (?) Meatwagons parked up, their drivers sitting around doing nowt more than chatting – one was even asleep!!
Glen and I decided instead to head for a pub - after all, one drink wouldn’t hurt – and soon found ourselves in Dean Street, which was apparently where the carnival had ended up. We stopped in a pub just up the road from the festivities, got a drink, then decided to head down the street to join in, leaving our bikes locked to some railings.
The festival was in fine form, with carniball, drumming, cheering and dancing. Stef rang me right in the middle of it, and was glad to hear I hadn’t been arrested and was in a place easy to escape from (Soho has so many little back streets.) Glen and I then decided to get our bikes, and while doing so met a group of teenagers to whom we gave the last of our cookies. We planned to cycle around the area to see where the peripheries lay and also whether there was anything else of interest going on. A brief reconnoitre showed more meat wagons than would ever have been necessary, many parked the wrong way up the one way roads, some with their engines running (GRRRR!!! Huge pet hate of mine...) plenty of foot soldiers and a movement of the main body. We followed slowly behind, giving just enough room to get out quickly if necessary. In one of the side roads connecting Dean and Wardour streets the first scuffle broke. The police looked as if they had been trying to form a cordon at the end, but it was broken and they ended up on either side of the road, hemmed in by protesters. Glad they got to see what it was like being herded into a small area and kept there. There was little more than a swap of words as the police tried to regain their control.
The party moved back up the street again, the police keeping up on either side. Confusion ensued as they arrested a man and were immediately surrounded again by protesters chanting ‘let him go, let him go!’ One of the officers raised his gloved right hand for re-enforcements and another pulled out his baton. Another scuffle ensued, although I didn’t see whether they did let the guy go. Glen found a right hand police glove on the floor (on a different part of the road) and tried to give it back, but the officers weren’t interested so he kept it.
The party once again turned and headed the other way, it was as if they were deliberately trying to confuse us. At the end of the street was the entrance to Wardour Street, which was blocked across by a massive coach. There was still enough room for us to squeeze through, and here we found another part of the procession, the drummers and dancers were having a party and we were all invited! Here was a real Reclaim the Streets, with chalk graffiti, chanting, ‘Who’s streets? Our streets!’ drumming and dancing. We slowly threaded our way up the road as it started to rain, huge drops like golf balls. Yet I didn’t feel like I was getting wet. The atmosphere was electric, an Anti-capitalist rain dance; as I looked up at the police helicopters lightning flashed across the sky. It was beautiful, all these happy people all together and in harmony, not caring about the rain, dancing and drinking and enjoying themselves. The group of teenagers re-appeared as a woman tried to drive her car from where it was parked through us. First someone sat on her bonnet, then the girl from the group started dancing in front of it, moving forward by inches as the car drove slowly down the street. I couldn’t help laughing, and after she let the car go Glen gave the girl some water.
We moved up the street and decided to stand in the lee of a parked car for a bit, so that the protesters could move around us. We watched the drummers and the dancers who were now dancing in perfect formation, fielded beach balls, and saw a guy with a plastic knife with a hole in the middle. He dipped it in something and suddenly there were bubbles coming from the middle of the knife! What a fantastic concept, I think the Anti-War lot should give them out at demos! The procession once again moved first forward then back, and things took a sinister turn as riot police started arriving, filtering through the crowd. I began to feel nervous, it was obvious they were trying to cordon again, so Glen and I slowly edged around the car and forward towards Oxford Street. I wanted out now, but each side street was cordoned off already. In the first one, people had tried to push through the cordon, but having had no luck they instead turned their backs to the police, spread out and linked arms, effectively creating their own cordon to prevent the officers from moving forward.
We carried on heading towards Oxford Street, and found ourselves able to get through at the top end, as the riot police hadn’t made their cordon there yet. I smiled gently as we walked through, allowing them to get out of my way in their own time and basically trying not to make them think I was a threat. Why perpetuate their ideas? It was the first time I’ve ever seen the riot police; they had the full get-up, shields, helmets and body armour. It was really intimidating, especially as I’m so small.
As Glen and I turned to look at the whole procession from outside we realised something unpleasant was happening. There were now three police helicopters in the sky, and incredibly as we looked we saw a military one fly over as well. Whether it was there for us or on another mission I don’t know, (it disappeared) but if they wanted to look threatening they certainly achieved it. The cordon was made at our end and the riot police started to march (fairly briskly) forward. We watched the flags at the far end moving forward a lot more slowly and realised people were being squeezed. I got out my notebook, and with cold hands wrote this:
“The whole day so far has been relatively peaceful. A few scuffles here and there but mainly dancing and drumming and drinking. We’re on Wardour Street and have been watching the dancing. Slowly we became aware of the riot police. Moving in in 1s and 2s, slowly but surely cutting off all escape routes.
“And then they move forward, effectively crushing people into a smaller space.
Reinforcements just arrived.
“No wonder people get angry. This is provocation!”
I don’t know what happened further down the street; I hope everyone got out safely. Glen and I decided to take the opportunity to finish the last of our food, having a picnic on Wardour Street in the lee of a building. By now it was getting cold and dark, so we decided to call it a day and head back to Kings Cross (via a pub of course! ;-) )
All in all, I’m glad I went. I had promised myself several years ago, after not making the one that really kicked off, that I would go to a MayDay protest parade, and I’m glad I chose this one, as it was so peaceful and fun. Plus the thunderstorm with the drumming and dancing was fantastic, despite Thor missing the police helicopters… ;-) I guess we really were drumming up a storm!
Glen's account: http://www.livejournal.com/talkread.bml?journal=glensc&itemid=48260
The Independent: http://news.independent.co.uk/uk/this_britain/story.jsp?story=291040
"The route read like a roll-call of the ostentatious and the elite. And they were all boarded up. For one day only, as the sales pitch goes, the tills were quiet. Like an anti-capitalist's dream, London's poshest boutiques in Mayfair, its most exclusive quarter, had battened down the hatches in the face of nothing more than whistles, banners and silly hats."
Hehehe! :-)
BBC (or praise the police and paint the protesters badly...): http://news.bbc.co.uk/hi/english/uk/england/newsid_1963000/1963600.stm
"But during the violence that followed, five officers were hurt, four had minor injuries and one suffered a broken arm when a fire extinguisher was thrown at him in Shaftesbury Avenue."
I wonder how many of the protesters got hurt by the police...?
(slightly O/T) The Guardian - funny french drawing: http://www.guardian.co.uk/cartoons/stevebell/0,7371,708597,00.html
The Guardian: (various from here) http://www.guardian.co.uk/mayday/0,7368,475106,00.html
The Times (ick, some of the other reports are crap!):
http://www.timesonline.co.uk/article/0,,2-284999,00.html
"Claudia and Fidgit say the police’s strategy was divide and conquer. The police were trying to provoke a confrontation to make the anarchists look as if they were spoiling for a fight. “Well, we are not going to play!” says Fidgit."
Too true!
Very funny (on my screen ATM)thanx Tom! :-)
http://www.livejournal.com/talkread.bml?journal=thamshere&itemid=51624
etc. That's enough I think...
