It’s been a full week. Years ago in an abandoned blog, I wrote about never having been on a march. That little life-goal was ticked off the list on Wednesday when I marched through Coventry with 200 students protesting the proposed 300% university tuition fees increases. I shan’t go on about the politics of it, but the principle of education being of benefit to society is something I feel strongly about, as do thousands of people if the London protests are anything to go by.
The Coventry protest was staged as a walkout, but in the nature of nurse education it is almost impossible to do that as everything is unmissable (this week at least). However, I was able to fit the march inbetween a skills session (taking blood pressure accomplished 3/3) and the collection of my hand cotured nurses uniform (specially made with sleeves to accommodate my freakish biceps). Arriving early for the speeches, I got talking to the stewards, and to the sweet natured woman in charge of welfare who had been taking a lot of undeserved faceebook stick. It was cool being an old girl hanging about with the young paramedics to be, and we talked about our courses before listening to the speeches and carrying our banner around the town, chanting and singing. There was a large police escort who seemed relaxed and amused, and some edgier private security standing legs apart and arms folded. The university, taking no chances on the possibility of a sit-in in the style of UCL had taped over entrances to the rooftops. I joked with the stewards that I didn’t have time to be kettled, but the students union had no intention of any occupation or deviation from the agreed route and seemed a little bemused by the official attention.
After we had marched, I felt optimistic, not that the Bill would be defeated (it was passed the next day by eleven votes), but that there was a new generation of young people willing to stand up and be counted, to engage with the wider world, to be active citizens. I also reflected that next time I went marching in the snow, I would dress much, much warmer.
Thursday evening was for Billy Bragg at Leamington Assembly. A new venue to me, down in the Old Town and converted from a bingo hall. Friendly, discrete security and inexpensive bar prices, all good. I took Nick with me for the first time and although he’s not a fan, but the end of the evening he remarked that Billy certainly still had ‘it’ and was able to please a crowd. That’s high praise from my reserved husband. The support act was Ben Solee and Daniel Martin Moore, good looking young troubadours with a Simon and Garfunkle vibe and something to say. Original work, done well, the vibe seducing the standing crowd.
The music of Billy Bragg is pretty much as essential to me as cups of tea. He’s showing his years now in ash grey hair and finger joints that look a little arthritic. His back is still straight though, and he was singing as well as I’ve ever heard him, perhaps because he hasn’t been out on the road too long yet. All of the allegations made against him are true. He talks too much, to a crowd that is never going to disagree with him. His politics are simple and sometimes inconsistent with his lifestyle. His music, not quite folk, nor punk, nor rock grates on the senses like Imperial Leather soap. I love him for all of that, he puts energy into me like Vicks VapoRub. That’s enough similes relating to toiletries for now.
Billy played a set of favourites including Tank Park Salute which he doesn’t do too often. It’s a very good song and yet I always feel that he holds himself back. Not so with The World Turned Upside Down, which he did just beautifully. Then there were the more obviously political numbers, interspersed with new songs, some of which don’t feel quite right yet although they’ve got something to them. He had a Christmas song too, which came across well and is already on youtube.
I sang along with the noisy congregation, too packed in to dance much, and felt my eyes water during Power in a Union as they often do, moved by the thought of what might be achieved together. There was no Waiting for the Great Leap Forward. It’s usually the big crowd-pleasing encore and to the regulars, the absence was disconcerting. If any message might be taken from it, it’s that now is the time to stop waiting and be active with those activists. Students to the front.
