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(en) Britain, Class War* member's G8 Blog

Date Wed, 06 Jul 2005 08:40:29 +0300


Class War E Mail Service: News and views from bonny Scotland can be viewed here:
http://www.londonclasswar.org/Blog.htm
Class War Po Box 467 London E8 3QX
www.londonclasswar.org
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From a CW member at the G8 summit protests
July 4
I got into Edinburgh early for the Carnival for Full Enjoyment.
I didn't want to go on it, as I felt it likely people would be
penned in or nicked and therefore run the possibility of missing
the main event. Instead, I used the opportunity to see what the
strange mixture of filth from across the country would do.

There were cops from Liverpool, Yorkshire, Humberside,
Manchester, London, Fife, Glasgow, and probably more forces
I didn't see. But they were fucking about like there was no
tomorrow. The clowns, who I'd previously dismissed as
timewasters, actually did very well! One of the highpoints of
the day was seeing 60 of them going down a road round the
corner from the Sheraton, followed a few minutes later by
about 150 riot plod. Following the riot plod and expecting to
see a bloodbath, I was highly amused to see that the clowns
had escaped from a filth pincer movement!

Other funny moments included seeing some Manchester filth
being ordered to do up their chin straps - and having to help
each other to do it. Then some Scottish inspector ordered them
to attention and then "Quick ... march"!

The riot filth who chased after the clowns were from out of
area, and lost as fuck. One of them had to be sent back to the
vans to get the A-Z! And as they were moving off after the
clowns an inspector damned his command as they were all
over the road, in mixed-up serials and looking like a pile of
shit. They had to go under a bridge to pursue the clowns -
from which rubbish, and an iron, were hurled at them. Sadly, I
think everything missed.

I saw some of the action up on Princes Street, but all the
excitement I've seen since in the papers happened after I left -
bloody typical!

It's worth mentioning that the police have a new toy, the Iron
Horse, to block streets. It's towed behind a police vehicle
looking like a cage, but the wings open out to block a street.

July 3

Things started to get more interesting today! I finally made it
to Edinburgh to meet some more people. At the Anarchist
Assembly meeting, things were going ok until someone
pointed out a journalist in the room - and not just any
journalist but the famous Andrew Gilligan, who writes for the
(London) Evening Standard and Tory magazine The Spectator.
His notes were taken away, but, sadly, his other tools - laptop
etc - were returned. In a short series of meetings discussions
took place about the coming week. Things are beginning to
move...

2 July

When I reached a small town near Edinburgh, I got out and
looked about. Not a lot to see and the Tourist Information,
with its list of b&bs, wasn't open. Soon sorted that out,
though, and slept for the best part of 24 hours, which I needed
after a pisspoor night at Stirling.

Friday, 1 July


I managed to get pretty much everything done before getting to
King's X for the Anarchist Express. The people organising the
train had done it smartly, unhindered by the filth's Forward
Intelligence Team. If it hadn't been for someone topping
themselves at Stevenage we'd have been off on time. As it was,
we left an hour late.

The 'stewards' did a superb job of sorting everything out
ticketwise, getting people on the train rapidly and without fuss.

The train wasn't quite what I expected for the amount of
money spent on hiring it - but it was surprisingly roomy and
for much of the journey I shared a table with just one other
person.

After a fairly uneventful train trip, we got to Edinburgh. There
things went slightly fuzzy as people stood about being filmed
by the FIT. Few people had any real idea of where they were
going to spend the night, but there were three options. I chose
the Stirling one, which was painted as being some sort of land
of milk and honey.

Needless to say, it wasn't. The camp was in a big field,
bounded on three sides by a swift-flowing river, with marshy
methane-laden ground on one side between the camp and
river. Reports of dysentry and giant hogweed made me
somewhat wary of stopping there more than one night - that
and having no sleeping bag!

Long story short - spent one of the most miserable nights of
my life trying to get some sleep in a draughty marquee,
hudding under a jacket. Never again!

In the morning I got a lift to the station and chipped down the
line to somewhere with a b&b.
=====================================
* Class War is an anarchist federation

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