p_p_man
The 'Euro' European
- Joined
- Feb 18, 2001
- Posts
- 24,253
but from a ground's eye point of view we didn't see the whole picture. Not until we saw the news coverage on TV.
What I saw were people from Middle Britain on the march, people of all ages, people who brought along sandwiches and flasks of hot chocolate to keep warm, people who brought their kids, people who had never marched before.
They talked excitedly among themselves as they walked in the bitter wind to Hyde Park. Not for them the singing of songs, the chanting of slogans or the carrying of banners. This was the backbone of Britain on the march, this wasn't political, this was a people who felt personally that the war is wrong. This was a depth of feeling that was almost tangible, even in its silence and felt by each and every one of those who marched.
At first as we were shepherded towards the end of the vast crowd ahead of us, there was just a hushed murmuring, just people talking to people they knew, who had travelled on the same bus or on the same train as themselves from all parts of the United Kingdom. But as we got into our stride our circle of acquaintances grew wider as we marched with strangers at first, but who quickly became firm marching buddies on the way.
I even saw two middle aged women admiring each others family photographs, making the usual "Ahhh" sounds as they studied in detail the babies of the photographic group.
This wasn't a march for the the politicos, the crazies, the nutters, this was a march for the people...
And as we marched we felt proud, proud that we had the strength of our belief to get up at some ungodly hour of the morning and in some cases make a round trip of 400 miles to show the depth of our feelings...
So we marched. The backbone of our country marched en masse to show our protest at the way two leaders of two countries can go to war on the flimsiest of excuses.
And after it was all over I presume my fellow marchers in the group I found myself in went home. Went home to Plymouth (Hi John, Susan and son Simon), to Weymouth (Hi Tony), to Leeds (Hi Christine and sister Joan) and to Glasgow (Hi Norrie, Linda and Jamie whom you told me to call wee Jamie so that I wouldn't get confused with his uncle Jamie - I hope you drove safely on the way back)
Me? I was lucky. I only had a comparatively short train journey to Bornemouth where I went for the weekend.
But for all of us that marched there were many, many more who didn't...
But who shared our sentiments...
ppman
What I saw were people from Middle Britain on the march, people of all ages, people who brought along sandwiches and flasks of hot chocolate to keep warm, people who brought their kids, people who had never marched before.
They talked excitedly among themselves as they walked in the bitter wind to Hyde Park. Not for them the singing of songs, the chanting of slogans or the carrying of banners. This was the backbone of Britain on the march, this wasn't political, this was a people who felt personally that the war is wrong. This was a depth of feeling that was almost tangible, even in its silence and felt by each and every one of those who marched.
At first as we were shepherded towards the end of the vast crowd ahead of us, there was just a hushed murmuring, just people talking to people they knew, who had travelled on the same bus or on the same train as themselves from all parts of the United Kingdom. But as we got into our stride our circle of acquaintances grew wider as we marched with strangers at first, but who quickly became firm marching buddies on the way.
I even saw two middle aged women admiring each others family photographs, making the usual "Ahhh" sounds as they studied in detail the babies of the photographic group.
This wasn't a march for the the politicos, the crazies, the nutters, this was a march for the people...
And as we marched we felt proud, proud that we had the strength of our belief to get up at some ungodly hour of the morning and in some cases make a round trip of 400 miles to show the depth of our feelings...
So we marched. The backbone of our country marched en masse to show our protest at the way two leaders of two countries can go to war on the flimsiest of excuses.
And after it was all over I presume my fellow marchers in the group I found myself in went home. Went home to Plymouth (Hi John, Susan and son Simon), to Weymouth (Hi Tony), to Leeds (Hi Christine and sister Joan) and to Glasgow (Hi Norrie, Linda and Jamie whom you told me to call wee Jamie so that I wouldn't get confused with his uncle Jamie - I hope you drove safely on the way back)
Me? I was lucky. I only had a comparatively short train journey to Bornemouth where I went for the weekend.
But for all of us that marched there were many, many more who didn't...
But who shared our sentiments...
ppman
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