Categories: uncategorized
Date: 02 October 2007 16:51:03
I tried to find a photo to go with this post - I know that there are some of me being arrested and carried grinning off the road somewhere but I couldn't find them.
EDIT : photo can be found here
We travelled up to Scotland on Sunday afternoon - two minibuses full of hippies, samba instruments and sleeping bags, tubes of superglue and tins of paint. We arrived at Kelvingrove church in Glasgow just before dinner (bean stew and mashed potatoes) and attended a briefing before going to the church allocated to our group (we brought 29 - the largest single group there) and talking, planning and practicing until about 1am. I woke everyone up on time at 4, so we could dump our bags, meet the other coaches in Helensbourgh and travel to the base in convoy.
By a fluke of earlyness and the fact that there were over ten of us prepared to get arrested on the monday, we were the first bus in the convoy, and as we passed the North Gate of the nuclear base, we stopped and piled out of the bus. Realising that we had to get the road, we ran straight throught the police as they tried to stop us, and fell onto the floor, fumbling for tubes of superglue to glue our hands together with interlinked arms. It was 7am, the sky was grey but it was dry, and we were the first ones on the road. In the confusion that followed, the police were distracted by us, and when I was able to look up there were over 20 other people lying in the road. We had established the blockade.
Our hands were plied apart, and one by one my friends were carried off the road. My hands were still glued together at this point - the police tried to pick me up by my arms - putting all my weight on my superglued hands (which hurt a bit) and I was the last one of our affinity group carried down the road past cheering people who were taking my photo, asking my name and checking I was ok.
The police officers who arrested me were lovely. It was a complete contrast to last time, both my arresting officers were lovely - talking to me (not just to get information either) and being oddly encouraging by saying that it was us who had established the blockade. It was about 8 by the time I got to the processing area, and had my photo taken (against the scenic backdrop instead of the boring police car).
I had no idea what was happening at the gates - just glimpses from police radios that told me that the road was still being held and the base was shut down. I met some lovely people in the processing queue, old, young, students, workers, peace campers and people who had travelled all night. The girl in front of me was 16 and had already been arrested twice at Faslane, the woman behind me was 70 - I signed her birthday card the night before not having a clue who she was, but by happy coincidence I met her. There was a girl in another police station who celebrated her 22nd birthday that day, and a few under 16s who were arrested.
And it was in those moments, when I was at my most powerless - under arrest - that I felt so incredibly empowered. We had done this. We - these friends I have never met before, my next-cell-neighbours - had done it. We had blockaded the base. And even though I wasn't going to enjoy the promised sunshine, or the picnic I had in my bag. Instead I got 8 hours in a cell with a book I'm reading for my disertation. Exciting it was not.
Except for at ten past three. The duty officer came round and I asked for a pen and paper, and was told that I couldn't have one because they were still processing people who had been arrested. So I asked if the blockade was still happening and was told it was. And I felt a sense of solidarity with so many people, and the news made me happy and I grinned for a while.
I was released at 8, and when I got back to the church I was greeted with a hug - which was everything I needed then.
Faslane 365 may have been over, but another group from Bradford blockaded today aswell and held the road for an hour. May the protests long continue!