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Mar. 24th, 2019 12:09 pmWell, this morning I have cooked breakfast for my Beast (who is out all day for song coaching), completed and sent out a newsletter, received a phone call about a distant family death from a relative-in-law who quite seriously believed Germany is about to start another war so that they can TOTALLY DESTROY US BECAUSE THEY ARE EVIL, EVIL I TELL YOU, phew (yes, I revealed to her the fact that I was on yesterday's march), sorted out a food order and a plumbing query for my FIL, and reassured a friend with high blood pressure. And had a coffee.
Yes, I was anticipating a nice quiet day to recover from yesterday's exertions.
So I am now listening to Instant Classic singing 'If I May', because they are adorable and really, really good.
The march yesterday. I made friends with my seat-mate on the coach and we decided to stick together for the day. We also managed to meet up with my brother-in-law, who lives in West Ken and found us by the Byron statue at the bottom of Park Lane, which turned out to be a good place to lurk as we were close enough to hear the brief speeches. These started off okay, but got a bit irritating with the repetition of the insistence on a Socialist solution. I'm a bit too fluid in my beliefs to enjoy being addressed as a socialist. A chant of "We Want To March!" broke out, and people began to move long before the talk was done.
It was very much a march of individuals. I am sure there must have been groups - I think there was a smallish phalanx of Greens, there were some orange LibDem posters, and there were a few big banners proclaiming local geographical/political allegiance, but it never felt like a collection of organised groups, it felt like a collection of people who felt like me—angry and scared and hoping against hope to be able to do something about the crappy situation in which we find ourselves. I'd introduced my seat-mate to knitting on a circular needle, and she was very excited to find another knitter in the throng, merrily concocting a mohair scarf/wrap as we stood waiting to get started. We had a nice little chat about knitting, which isn't something I would have expected. (My BIL had most considerately worn a hat and a scarf I'd created for him!)
There were lots of quite small children on the march, and a lot of parents carrying babies in slings. They have stronger backs than I! There were people behind us speaking French, at one point. There must have been police around—I saw motorbikes as our coach approached Hyde Park Corner—but I didn't spot any along the route. There was, though, a BoJo lookalike sporting a Tories Against Brexit banner, and having selfies taken with delighted marchers. I brandished my banner, and wished I'd put it on a longer pole, but my arms and shoulders are fine. Having started nearer the beginning of the march (I think) I managed to get all the way to the end of Pall Mall, but at that point we broke off to make sure we got to a loo before the coach rendezvous point.
I still want David Cameron to suffer for what he's done to us.
Yes, I was anticipating a nice quiet day to recover from yesterday's exertions.
So I am now listening to Instant Classic singing 'If I May', because they are adorable and really, really good.
The march yesterday. I made friends with my seat-mate on the coach and we decided to stick together for the day. We also managed to meet up with my brother-in-law, who lives in West Ken and found us by the Byron statue at the bottom of Park Lane, which turned out to be a good place to lurk as we were close enough to hear the brief speeches. These started off okay, but got a bit irritating with the repetition of the insistence on a Socialist solution. I'm a bit too fluid in my beliefs to enjoy being addressed as a socialist. A chant of "We Want To March!" broke out, and people began to move long before the talk was done.
It was very much a march of individuals. I am sure there must have been groups - I think there was a smallish phalanx of Greens, there were some orange LibDem posters, and there were a few big banners proclaiming local geographical/political allegiance, but it never felt like a collection of organised groups, it felt like a collection of people who felt like me—angry and scared and hoping against hope to be able to do something about the crappy situation in which we find ourselves. I'd introduced my seat-mate to knitting on a circular needle, and she was very excited to find another knitter in the throng, merrily concocting a mohair scarf/wrap as we stood waiting to get started. We had a nice little chat about knitting, which isn't something I would have expected. (My BIL had most considerately worn a hat and a scarf I'd created for him!)
There were lots of quite small children on the march, and a lot of parents carrying babies in slings. They have stronger backs than I! There were people behind us speaking French, at one point. There must have been police around—I saw motorbikes as our coach approached Hyde Park Corner—but I didn't spot any along the route. There was, though, a BoJo lookalike sporting a Tories Against Brexit banner, and having selfies taken with delighted marchers. I brandished my banner, and wished I'd put it on a longer pole, but my arms and shoulders are fine. Having started nearer the beginning of the march (I think) I managed to get all the way to the end of Pall Mall, but at that point we broke off to make sure we got to a loo before the coach rendezvous point.
I still want David Cameron to suffer for what he's done to us.