However, I lived to see another day, precisely, one filled with a guided tour of the Leicester highlights by two of the world's worst tourguides. The following day Rachel and I departed to the Liecestershire countryside for a quintessential day ride, a pleasant meander through fields and fords, complete with a picnic in a field of clovers. I felt like I was in England.
Sunday, 22 June 2008
Unfortunately, I had my ever-present companion with me, and a bicycle does not mix well with large crowds. The protest was panning out how most peace-promoting and tolerant protests do, until the police closed Whitehall, a major throughfare passing by No. 10 Downing St, where Bush and Gordon Brown were busy sipping tea and plotting coups.
Understandably, closing a public road to the public for no other reason except there being protestors present did not sit too well, and before long the crowd was pressed into a face-off between rapily reinforcing police lines (at least five deep). Naturally, Rachel wanted in on the action, getting a a birds eye view of the action from my shoulders, before lanching herself toward the front of the ruckus.
To the protestor's credit and police suprise, apart from a few obligatory ararchist troublemakers, the protest stayed peaceful and the night ended with a wonderfully contrasting Thai restaurant dinner with Rachel and her father. A interesting afternoon and evening that only got more interesting when I found myself on a train bound for Leicester, 100 miles away, at 11:00pm on a Monday night.