Now I am a Londoner who long ago left for Manchester.
And I regularly return, usually to visit family in south east London, but occasionally washed up in the City, for the day walking the streets as part of a demonstration.
A few were organized to protest a new generation of nuclear weapons which in the 1980s were being placed across Europe by the Super Powers.
Others were shouts of anger at the rise of unemployment and cuts in public services, and one was linked to the Miner’s strike of 1984-85.
What they had in common, was an early start from Manchester and a long journey south, followed by the march, lots of speeches and finally the trip home.
Usually there were chartered coaches or trains, which got you there, although in the case of the railway the route sometimes took one of those roundabout journeys, which alternatively took you from Lancashire into Yorkshire and zigzagging across the country.
And I have often wondered what would happen if you missed the designated coach or train.
Not that I ever did, but I do remember once giving up on the protest and catching an early train home to my shame.
Always accompanying me was a camera and much of my time was spent snapping away, which was tolerated back then, in a way I doubt it would be today.
Most never saw the light of day, but more recently I have dusted down the pile of negatives, and while I can’t claim they are great photographs, they are a record of demonstrations, now all but forgotten.
Location; London
Pictures; from a demonstration, circa 1981, from the collection of Andrew Simpson
And I regularly return, usually to visit family in south east London, but occasionally washed up in the City, for the day walking the streets as part of a demonstration.
A few were organized to protest a new generation of nuclear weapons which in the 1980s were being placed across Europe by the Super Powers.
Others were shouts of anger at the rise of unemployment and cuts in public services, and one was linked to the Miner’s strike of 1984-85.
What they had in common, was an early start from Manchester and a long journey south, followed by the march, lots of speeches and finally the trip home.
Usually there were chartered coaches or trains, which got you there, although in the case of the railway the route sometimes took one of those roundabout journeys, which alternatively took you from Lancashire into Yorkshire and zigzagging across the country.
And I have often wondered what would happen if you missed the designated coach or train.
Not that I ever did, but I do remember once giving up on the protest and catching an early train home to my shame.
Always accompanying me was a camera and much of my time was spent snapping away, which was tolerated back then, in a way I doubt it would be today.
Most never saw the light of day, but more recently I have dusted down the pile of negatives, and while I can’t claim they are great photographs, they are a record of demonstrations, now all but forgotten.
Location; London
Pictures; from a demonstration, circa 1981, from the collection of Andrew Simpson
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