Lobby That

Another day another lobby of parliament (ok my second at least) This time it was a TUC (Trades Union Congress) organised lobby campaigning for decent public sector pay rises. There was a bus going from Stoke so it was a really early start for the 3 of us from our branch. I got up at 5am (which apparently is a real time of the day!!) in order so I got there in time for a good seat on the bus. This turned out not to be a problem as only 5 people turned up.

We got down to the rally point at the Central Methodist Hall an hour early, so we sat outside on the grass basking and baking in the sun. London in the sun always has the cliched feel of a film set. I half expected to see a floppy haired Hugh Grant stuttering a declaration of love, or an 80's Bob Hoskings' gangster shouting from his boat on the Thames. All of a sudden we we descended upon by the world's media (ok, Unison's video unit and photographer's from the Press Association). The video guy wanted us to stand behind our placards and act like we were discussing this vital issue while he panned his camera down on us. This is the first time I have ever taken direction, so I relied on a method acting approach and imagined I was a trade union activist, and then remember I actually was! The Press Association snappers then took photographs from as many unflattering angles as possible. I was in 2 minds whether I should smile for the camera, or affect a serious, studied and concerned expression befitting our campaign. In the end I just looked a bit spooked! I did learn one thing from this experience and that is Placards can be quite slimming. They are very useful for hiding ones stomach behind, so from now on I am going to make them a wardrobe staple. I could have a range of colours and slogans to suit the outfit and occasion.

I then indulged myself in some political sparring with a lady from the Socialist Worker mob, who always tag on to any Trade Union event. Although I have a good deal in common with much of their politics, they always seem to lose credibility of argument by going a step too far. Apparently according to this particular Trot, the poor public sector pay was due to the war in Iraq, American imperialism, and the fact that there was soon going to be something called a National Government, which apparently means no more general elections. Some of these views are oddly similar to some of the New World Order paranoia spouted by right wing American matitia survivalist idiots. Strange bedfellows indeed!. Anyway the good natured bantering ended on a sour note when she refered to me as he! Thanks Sister!!

The rally was well attended with even standing room at a premium. After some rousing speeches by various General Secretaries we left for the House of Commons to meet our MPs. Parliament had instigated a fiendish new security measure since our last lobby. Instead of a pink sticker with Visitor and the date scrawled in pen we now had a Yellow scrawled sticker! I'm sure that would fox even the most experienced of terrorist forgers.

The exciting Committe Room 21
Our meeting was in Committee Room 21. I had hoped we could have been in the prosaically named Cabinet Office Briefing Room A, which is more thrillingly acronymed (should be a word! but apparently is not) to COBRA whenever there is a national emergency. Committee Room 21 was tucked away up so many flights of stairs that I feared we would be sitting next to the Big Ben bells. The meeting went well, and we appeared to have support from the attending Labour MPs, who were just as scathing about the government as ourselves. One of our local MPs Mark Fisher was particularly honest and passionate, bemoaning how all the good feeling from the '97 election had been squandered by a government so keen to appeal to big business and the free market, that it had alienated many of its core voters. Looking out of the window across the Thames I spied a hospital development swathed in NHS tarpaulins, as if it was a gift wrapped present for some huge global corporation. Anyway it felt good to be exercising our democratic muscles. Lobby over, and on the long trip home I fell asleep dreaming of storming the Chamber of Parliament, behind a placards declaring Freedom for Stoke, while being pursued by a camera weilding Harold Shand!