5:30pm, City of London.
Quiet. No traffic, no noise. There is your actual reduction of carbon emissions.
Leave your car and suit at home, maybe stay there yourself. It could be like a little holiday.
Two blokes with plummy voices discuss capitalism on the way home, no way of knowing if they are dressed down bankers or protestors.
Gresham Street is streaked with horse manure, just like old times.
The police have blocked off the roads to Bank. Small groups of workers and punks hang about, waiting for something to happen. One guy just stands up and walks determinedly towards the police line and is arrested. Sits down in the road and is dragged off.
I head down the labyrinth of back alleys.
Laughing: “They were the worst kind of social reprobates, the dregs”
Angry: “They were just thugs basically, I hope they…”
They’ll be talking about this day for years.