I spent most of Friday being drunk, most of Saturday protesting in London, and most of Sunday being an agony uncle.
Why is it, when a group of people with no money meet in a pub, none of them can individually afford to drink all day, but collectively they all can?
Have the laws of arithmetic broken down, or do drinkers all just spend every penny they have? And if they do, why can they then afford a curry afterwards, but not proper food the next day? All very mysterious.
Anyway, on Friday four of us (or it might have been up to six at some points) sat around the kind of table you only get in "rustic" pubs and picnic areas in parks, commiserating about Dunkan.
Then I staggered home at four in the afternoon and slept. Before being woken two hours later by an offer to get drunk again. With the same people in the same pub.
And after closing time we found a bottle of vodka behind one of our sofas.
On Saturday morning, there were 50 people on the coach up to the demo in London - including four (or possibly six) bleary eyed comrades who'd had too much alchohol and not enough sleep the previous night.
More interestingly, there were half a dozen middle-aged strangers who'd never been on a demo before but were so angry about the situation in Lebanon they felt they had to, another half dozen muslim women with brightly coloured hijabs (and two drab husbands), and 15+ students new to protesting but fairly clued up politically.
Two things I especially dislike are traveling by coach, and being trapped sitting next to inane chatterboxes. I blocked out both with mp3s of 2 Unlimited (which apparently makes me utterly tasteless and terminally unhip), ZZ Top (which makes me eccentric and possibly a barbarophile), and Talking Heads (which makes me hip again).
The demo was energetic, peaceful and well ordered. We walked from Hyde Park to Trafalgar Square, but by an oddly circuitous route - probably designed to take us past the American embassy so we could shout rude slogans at it.
The police were out in large numbers, displaying their usual mix of aggression and ineptness. On one occasion they attempted to halt the march, and another apparently to divert it, without any effect. I heard reports of them surrounding groups of muslims, trying to provoke them into violence, but I didn't hear of anyone taking the bait.
In Trafalgar Square, I heard one reporting into his radio that "the protestors have been isolated and contained", speaking of a few dozen thousand people cheering George Galloway.
Is it me, or does George sound more like an Arab Nationalist every time I hear him? He's a great thunderous speaker, but seems to speak over his immediate audience to the Al-Jazira viewership.
Which I suppose makes sense - we got 10 seconds of BBC coverage about token arrests of "troublemakers", but the independent arab networks would have covered the event extensively.
One conspicuous new group were the BMI - British Muslim Initiative - which turns out to be a coalition of the MAB, MCB and smaller islamic groups.
There weren't many non-mass-produced banners, though I noticed one declaring "Blair Drinks Blood" and one rather forlorn banner for one of the groups calling itself the "Communist Party", being carried by a single octogenarian.
I had been dubious about STWC calling a second demo so soon after the first, but with reliable estimates of 150,000 people (the police estimate of 20,000 is just a joke), the antiwar movement showed itself to be confident and growing.
Plus I got to meet several new people. One was an expert in jewish history and culture who spent an hour describing to me the many jewish responses to types of zionism - fascinating but endlessly complex. And another was a 19 year old boy with no shirt and a pierced nipple - almost as fascinating and much nicer to look at.
Oh don't be like that - his girlfriend didn't mind.
The journey home was delayed by the coach driver being "caught in traffic" and unable to get to the rondez-vous point - i.e being in the pub.
And then by more police involvement after the coach totalled a BMW at traffic lights. The car driver was unhurt, though unimpressed about his car being a write-off.
And then by the coach almost doing the same thing to another car.
Which made a good excuse to spend more money we didn't have in the pub afterwards.
As for Sunday, I am officially the confidant, shoulder to cry on, and offerer of advice to comrades and fellow travelers who just need someone to talk to.
Largely on account of being "a nice guy", "intelligent" and most importantly "a big fat old poof" who's easy to be with.
So, this is Kapitano, heavy homosexual, antiwar activist and boozy blogger, signing off.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Again, I wish I was with you on that demo. I guess I was in London too early - but I did hear about you on the news!
ReplyDelete