Sunday 9 March 2014

The Revolution



It might have been 11 am, but it looked like the middle of the night as the rain lashed down across London. As ever on a Sunday morning we were suffering from a communal hangover; the whole household moaning gently over clutched mugs of tea; four of us, bleary eyes, regretting the last pint and the dodgy kebab - the age-old cause of morning after melancholy.
Im not sure what shook us out of our stupor, what roused the revolutionary fervour, how the spirit of Che replaced this spirit of Ollie, but suddenly we were united in our passion, dedicated to the cause. Today would be the day that these 4 students would help overthrow that stale old government. We got dressed for battle and headed to the barricades. 


It was 18th October 1992, the day a quarter of a million people descended on London to campaign against another tranche of pit closures announced by Heseltine days before.


Wed got up too late for the march but if we got a wiggle on wed make it to Hyde Park for the speeches and the certain revolution to follow.
The Park was a sea of people, old, young, working class, middle class, miners mixed with students, bankers with dockers, today we were united in opposition. Colliery banners dripped history and rain on the heads of those holding them, Socialist Worker placards danced in the wind.
Billy sang, Neil spoke and Arthur tub thumped, I think Tony even made an appearance! Benn not Blair.  You could feel the tension in the air, the passion in the cheers, the enthusiasm for war that even the rain couldnt dampen. 


Finally, this was it - this was OUR moment. The people of Central Europe had shown us the way 3 years earlier; it was possible to overthrow hated governments via peaceful mass protests. This was it. 

We all sang Jerusalem and then came the announcement.
‘Ladies and gentlemen. Thank you all for coming, you get home safely now.’
‘Nooooo’ I yelled at the top of my voice. ‘Nooooo.’ I yelled again
Within minutes the throng had dispersed, drifting into Central London like water through a colander; disappearing dissipating, disintegrating. Civic obedient Brits enjoying their day out then heading home to enjoy their cottage pie and Songs of Praise on the TV. My dreams were shattered, it was only the weather that was revolting today.

1 comment:

  1. http://allpoetry.com/poem/11400379-The-day-we-learn-how-the-streets-get-their-names-by-Miroslava

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