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Date: 30/11/11
Strike On!
07:40: Right! Off to the picket line shortly, and then on to the rally in Queen's Square.
If I don't get kettled, tasered, beaten up or arrested, I'll report back later today - hopefully with pictures.
Oh, and George...don't do that.
Update (13:10): Just got back. Great turnout. Report (and pics) to follow once I've had a nap.
18:50: (No, I've not only just got up again; you'd be surprised how long it takes to do one of these posts).
I got to the picket line outside the pickle factory I work in at about 08:40 - it would have been slightly sooner, but the bus I came out for didn't turn up - to find ten of my colleagues already on vigil. Some had been there since before seven, and had seen what might be termed 'the usual suspects' (some non-union, others who could only be described with a word which rhymes with 'poor dabs') going in through a car park entrance barrier which - contrary to the security paranoia which is usually on display - had been left permanently 'up', presumably to spare them from having to justify their actions.
I was told that they had had one very negative response from a passing motorist, but apart from that drivers were either supportive or indifferent.
Certainly we had a fair number of beeps and thumbs up whilst I was there.
We stood there in a decidedly chilly wind (I wished that I'd remembered to take my gloves), talking about the short-sightedness of some of the people we work with (about 15 per cent of the office had crossed the line), and about the hideous and hypocritical posturings of those who presume to lead our country.
After about an hour and a quarter - and with the personnel on the barricade changing gradually through that period - I decided to head off into town to try to do a bit of Christmas shopping. Having again had to wait a fair bit longer than I'd expected for a bus, I noticed on the way in a large picket outside one of the main entrances to the hospital.
Once in town, I headed towards Queen's Square, where the rally was to take place later, and found a substantial presence outside the Council offices. I went and chatted in solidarity with one of the pickets there, who said that they'd had a very good response. Up until yesterday, he said, the Council had intended sending the bin lorries out as usual on Wednesday (I'd earlier seen one of my neighbours dragging his wheely bin, recycling box and paper sack to the roadside. I didn't have the heart to tell him he was wasting his time), but this had changed overnight.
I then went on around town to do some shopping, before heading back towards Queen's Square at about 11:15. Gradually, all the unions were visibly - and noisily - represented; Unison, Unite, PCS, UCU, ATL, GMB, UCAC, even a show of support from two unions - FBU and RCN - who weren't actually on strike today.
A goodly crowd had by now gathered, and whistles and vuvuzelas (remember them, boys and girls? So 2010, don'tcha know?) were much in evidence. The speeches started. Only three of them, all three hampered by a combination of a poor PA system and an inability to use it properly. Peter Jones of UCU (someone who was of immense help to me and my union rep when I had to take action against my manager earlier this year) was first - and was Master Of Ceremonies throughout- and he made the point that what was happening to us was a form of class war. Someone standing behind me started muttering about how Peter shouldn't be saying things like that; I felt like turning around and telling Brother Muppet that Peter was right; this is a war being waged by a millionaires' government on all working people.
Peter was followed by someone from one of the teaching unions (I think his name was Craig, sorry for unretentive memory) who, dressed as he was in shades and a woolly hat, cut a fair dash as he whipped us up into a frenzy of whistling and honking. And then a rep from Unison addressed us briefly before Peter returned to give us instructions for the march which was to follow (whilst being persistently interrupted by some nut trying to give away copies of the Morning Star - no wonder that paper's up financial Shit Creek).
So, flags flying, placards waving, whistles and horns going at full chat, the crowd (which probably numbered a thousand or so by that point) headed off. Down Lambpit Street we went, turning right onto Chester Street, right again up High Street, right again into Hope Street and up Regent Street to Hill Street, where - after some delay so that North Wales' finest could stop the traffic, we came to a standstill outside Grove Park Theatre (a.k.a., The Little Theatre), where there would be more speeches.
It was quite an exhilarating experience to march through the town like this, people from right across the public sector all in solidarity with one another. It was quite a deafening experience too, especially if you were walking just in front of someone with a whistle for most of the way (I tried to duck out of the march from time to time as much to protect my ears as to try to get some photos).
What the attitude of the shoppers who were greeted by this collage of flags and fluting was was quite difficult to ascertain. I didn't see any rounds of applause from the dear consumers as we went by (and I wouldn't have heard any because of the bloody whistles), but there was certainly no antagonism in evidence.
I decamped from the whole thing outside the theatre. For one thing, it was obvious that we weren't all going to fit in there; for another, I didn't need to hear any more speeches - I knew what I felt about it all. As I stood waiting for an opportunity to leave, I was buttonholed by a reporter and cameraman from BBC Wales (I'd done an interview with that particular journalist a little while back), and she interviewed me over a background of noise which made it difficult for me to hear her questions - goodness knows what the mic was picking up. If it was unusable, then it's probably just as well - I didn't give a very coherent set of responses, especially in comparison with my usual reputation for being 'one-take' in these things.
And then, I went and tried to do a bit more shopping and went home.
So, what did we achieve today? In the wider context, possibly very little; the government and the extremist crank organisations it fronts for - the CBI, the Institute of Directors - and the official media have sought to mis-state the scale of the protest (BBC claiming that there were only 200 marching in Wrexham, for example, or the wretch Cameron claiming that it was a 'damp squib' - you wait till you see the rocket we've got for you next time, Call-me-Dave). And enough people will still believe the bullshit about "gold-plated pensions" and "five-a-day disabled lesbian outreach officers".
But it was important that we stood together today, and that we did so visibly (and audibly), so that real people on the streets of our towns and cities can see the scale of the opposition to what Millionaires' Row are trying to do to us (as a prelude to doing it to them, of course). And that we did so may - in the long term - be success enough.
Here are some pics from the day:
Getting ready to start:
Flags and banners:
Up for the fight!
Setting off from Queen's Square:
You know who they say the sun shines on, don't you?
A clear, unambiguous statement of government policy on public sector pensions?
Solidarity from the Fire Brigades Union - not out today, but showing support:
On Hill Street, at the end of the march:
