Most weeks there is a demonstration of some sort in Parliament Square. I can hear the noise from my office and occasionally read the odd banner or two. Some are confusing, occasionally amusing, often serious, but always important to the supporters. Most make me think a bit about the cause being championed.
But each one reminds me of the time when it was me out there. Me and thousands of others trying in the only way we could to attract the attention of the then Labour Government and divert it from its hostile attack on the countryside and hunting in particular. Here in London we marched in record numbers, but few remember that we did the same in Edinburgh, Cardiff, Exeter, Norwich, Birmingham, Brighton and Bournemouth. Such was the indignation and anger that our supporters stripped off in Smith Square, fought off the Met outside my window here at St Stephens and some even penetrated the epicentre of democracy itself – the Commons chamber.
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