I’ve only marched twice in my life. The first was an anti Nazi League March when I was about 13. I went because friends did, and although I believed in the cause, the day scared me.
10 years later, in 2003, I marched against the war in Iraq in London. A totally different experience!
Nobody I knew was going on the march, but I felt that I didn’t have any choice. If I didn’t stand up and be counted, how would things ever change? So I went on my own.
I remember coming out of the underground and immediately being part of the crowd. It wasn’t scary. It was busy, but it felt good. To be one of millions of people who all believed in the same thing. Wow.
I remember people sharing food, sharing instruments etc. People were angry with the politicians, but not with each other. There were jokes, there were chants. And there were some fantastic banners. My all time favourite was “I only came out for a pint of milk!”
When we reached the park, everyone was happy. I remember feeling tired, but satisfied. My feet ached, but my heart felt lighter.
Although we didn’t change the course of history, the war still went ahead, I still believe we did something very important that day. I would do it again. I’m proud we tried.