Blog Post #39

On The March

A few weeks ago I decided to meet up with some friends in London for a photo-walk. I have to admit that photo-walks aren’t really my thing as I prefer to work alone, but it was a good opportunity to meet people I had predominantly only chatted with on groups and forums. The main focus of the day was the cost of living protest march organised by the trades union. Its main route came through Trafalgar Square, down Whitehall and into Parliament Square. Having met up with the group at Festival Hall on the south bank. we headed over Westminster Bridge and on up to Trafalgar Square.

The march hadn’t commenced yet but there was plenty of photo opportunities around Trafalgar Square to get us started. There seemed to be a religious and spiritual meet-up complete with faith healers, evangelists and prayer groups all around the square. They seemed oblivious to anyone taking photos which was good so it was a great fill-in until the march got started and reached Trafalgar Square. This seemed a good opportunity to grab an early lunch so we retired to The Admiralty for a bite and a drink. Sure enough, as soon as we ordered, the march started passing the pub so the lunch was quicker than planned and it was back out to the streets..

The march itself was very peaceful and orderly and it never really kicked off at any point and had the feeling of a village fete at times. As experienced with the Brexit demonstrations, these events seem to attract loads of people with causes not related to the main event which can add a bit of fun and colour to the proceedings. I lost my fellow photo-walkers early in the afternoon and found myself was spending a bit of time in Whitehall and outside the entrance to Downing Street. I was actually following two protesters that had giant smiley poos over their heads. They came to a halt outside Downing Street and deposited them by the gates, guarded by some uncomfortable Police officers. The entrance to Downing Street was a favourite spot for protesters to go slowly and vent their anger at its inhabitants.

There appeared to be representation from all the major and smaller unions, but there was also an element in the marching throng that came across as a bit sinister and did not like getting their photo taken. They had no clear insignia to explain who they were but the fact that they were wearing black and full face masks told me that they should be watched. I then proceeded to Parliament Square and mingled with the crowds listening to the union leaders addressing the crowd. At this point the proceedings came to and end and everyone started to disperse with many, including myself, heading back up Whitehall.

As I walked up Whitehall I heard flutes playing and right away I knew what it was, an Orange Walk. As a native of Glasgow these are a common sight, but its the first one I have seen in England in my 25 years living in the midlands. I was walking north up the east side of White hall with many hundreds of others and for some reason someone thought it would be a good plan to arrange an Orange Walk that met us head on. The marchers, heading south, rounded the Cenotaph and proceeded northwards and turned right down a side street. This meant that the Police had us “Kettled” on the pavement not being able to move because the marchers were now in front of us. I was standing at the edge of the pavement beside a couple of tourists who seemed intent in crossing the road at the first opportunity. When they sensed that opportunity had arrived they dashed out into the road.

One thing you learn in Glasgow that it is foolhardy to break the ranks of an Orange Walk, as the consequences can be rather painful to say the least. As the two tourists got to about the middle of the road some female marchers pounced on them and tried to block them and jostled them about trying to prevent them getting any further. One of the marchers came to grief in the grappling and ended up on the ground, at which point some burly men appeared and frogmarched the hapless tourist back from hence she came. It was bullying and intimidation at its worst, with the saddest thing being that none of the hundreds of Policemen marshalling the crowd stepped in to help her. This drew howls and boos from my fellow “Kettled” onlookers. It was disgusting.

As the marching came to a close we were released from our enclave and I proceeded to meet up with the rest of the photo-walkers for a pint in Soho.

It was a great day albeit relatively uneventful. To round things off my train back north got in 80 minutes late due to livestock on the line at Milton Keynes. It was a long day……

You can find more photos from the day on my website here

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