G20 Protests

I decided to get out of London Bridge Station today and see the protests. There was going to be a group of protestors following a silver horse, across the bridge, and towards the Bank of England. I arrived a little late, but noticed the tell tale signs of police vans and flashing lights in the distance across the bridge. I walked on at a comfortable pace, and soon reached the crowds of demonstrators. After five minutes or so, the crowds reached the square infront of the Bank of England. The three other protests following the green, red, and black horses were converging on the Bank. I decided to get a closer look, but was soon overwhelmed by protestors. Following the example of a couple other people, I clambered onto some metal fences to get a better view. Amongst the crowds were a whole range of people, anarchists garbed in black hoodies and masks, people dressed as bankers, environmentalists, anti-capitalists, people who were generally disatisfied, homeless people, jobless people, and students. The atmosphere was contagious, whistles were being blown, drums beaten, people playing brass instruments, guitars, singing, and the deafening roar of the crowds. I can understand why so many people turn up to these things now. Across the street from my look out point, there was a man perched above the crowd playing his guitar and singing songs. He then sang a rousing chorus of 'The International'. I remember studying the lyrics during French class one rather grey and rainy afternoon. The roar of appreciation from the crowd after he had finished rocked the ground. Further down the street, beyond the facade of the Bank of England, there came the sounds of commotion. Bottles and other objects were being thrown across the street. It seemed the protestors were targeting the police. This was being recieved with yet again more roars of appreciation from the crowd. Behind me a couple of young men shouted 'Av him!' It was quite something. I decided to wander down and take a closer look. I'd never seen a crowd face off with the police before, so thought this would be an interesting opportunity. The spirit by this point had captured the entire crowd. The anarchists in the black hoodies had somehow come to life, and were rushing through the crowds towards the line of Londons finest met police. I saw batons being flailed. A couple of young guys came back with head wounds. The shit was really starting to hit the fan now. Every now and then there would be a surge. The crowd would chat 'Our Street!' repeatedly. I paused to think for a moment .. our street? This was an anti capitalist protest and the people failed to see that the streets would never have been built in the first place had it not been for the hard work of designers, engineers, and entrepreuners. Things were now heating up. I noticed what the commotion was about. The Royal Bank of Scotland was up ahead, and the crowds seemed to be making their way for the building. With much effort, the crowd had surged its way forward and had reached the front doors of the building. What came next was inevitable. The sound breaking class echoed across the street. Again, the crowd roared with appreciation. Three or four windows were broken, shards of glass scattered across the street. This infuriated the police, who stepped up their counter attack. Around the street came police mounted on horseback. I stayed long enough to know what it meant to run for your life from the riot cavalry. The protest didn't seem to be going to end soon. I had my fun, and decided it was time to head back. But there was a problem. It seemed every street and alleyway had been blocked by lines of riot police. There was only one street that seemed to be free. People were streaming down this street away from the protest. But just as I thought I had made it, three police vans came driving up the street. From nowhere, a youth dressed in a black hoodie runs and blocks the van. Five burly police officers bundle from the side door and pounce on the unfortunate fellow. He is beaten with batons, but somehow manages to scramble away. More police bundle out of the other two vans and form another line across the street. Now this was getting out of hand. I knew what was going to happen, so dashed forward and made it through just before they could block the entire street. I was through. It was the strangest of feelings though. More people were gathering behind me. The police seemed to be drawing the crowds like magnets! A van arrived with reinforcements. It was stopped by more protestors who followed the example of the youth earlier. Dozens of protesters sat themselves on the ground infront of the police van. I turn to set off home again, and see that more riot police are coming in heavy gear sweeping across the street behind me with their batons. By this point, I had turned and hastily escaped. I was in no mood to be clobbered by the met police. I reached Cannon Street train station and clambered aboard the train headed to Lewisham, left to my own thoughts. So this was what the G20 protest was like. It seemed to me that though the entire project was driven by left wing political groups, NGOs, and environmental groups, with their political agendas, the bulk of the protesters were ordinary workers who were angry with their government and the hard times. They were egged on by the extreme types, anarchists, who were there simply to take the opportunity to kick up a storm.