The End of an Era
By late afternoon, the sky was lead grey, but the threatened downpour didn’t happen. And even if it did, would I stay at home?
For twenty-two years, the peacewomen have camped by the side of the Friendly Neighbourhood Atomic Weapons bomb factory almost every month; come rain or shine, in freezing temperatures, howling winds and chilling damp. And in the two-and-a-half years that I have been living in the neighbourhood, I did not once go to join them, or even visit.
Why not? Because it was inconvenient.
And yet, I have been invited to the party. We all have. Tonight, the Aldermaston Women’s Peace Campaig(-n) would celebrate its twenty-second birthday in style: a cocktail party with music late into the night and a dress-code of ‘fabulous’.
So, I dug out my mother’s vintage cocktail dress (which fits, because the rubber band broke long ago, so the skirt has to be tied under the loose-fitting top) and set off, equiped with a bottle of sparkling Chardonnay, a punnet of local strawberries, a big bag of tortilla chips and some kick-ass home-made guacamole.
(Artfully blurred)
Me in front of our Friendly Neighbourhood Atomic Weapons Establishment
Hubby dropped me off on his way to the office, in the business park opposite the base. The peace camp was just down the road and I didn’t want to be seen being dropped off like a little girl. So I walked along the rain-slicked road, alert to the thumping of Garage beats and the smell of wood fire.
Then I remembered: new bye-laws had come into effect last Thursday. Small red signs were already up all around the base: ‘MOD Property—Restrictions Apply’, or something like that. It meant no more fires. But it was warm enough on this June evening and word was that the camp would go ahead.
It was further than I thought. The road seems a damn site shorter when you are driving along it, which plenty of people were; forcing me onto the wet grass by the kerbside and, occasionally, into the even wetter shrubbery to escape being run over.
Still no music.
I began to wonder if I might have walked right past the camp, but then where were the signs and banners?
At long last, Young’s Industrial Estate came into view. The camp should be right opposite. I crossed the road and walked down a small path into the strip of woodland that surrounds much of the base. At the back of my mind I wondered whether there would be any toilets, or would we have to dig holes in the soil like…
Don’t be silly, the camp has been here for twenty-two years!
And there it was: a big wooden shed, even an asphalt road leading up to a small square. But no tents and no people.
An old fire place, reasonably fresh judging from the smell, but not burned since the afternoon rain.
It was like a ghost village. Or like the scene of a party that was long since over, except that there were no empty bottles or tinsel lying around. Had I gotten the date wrong?
I slunk back to the road and called John, digging out my watch from the clutchbag before I remembered that the damn mobile is a watch as well. Then I crossed the rain-slicked road again and stood at the entrance of the industrial estate, looking out over the bleak vista of jumbled sheds, concrete and barbed wire that comprises our Friendly Neighbourhood Atomic Weapons Establishment. Wondering what had happened to the peace camp.
I didn’t wonder for long. The new byelaws encompass assemblies, but nobody had assumed that they would be enforced to the extent that people would be banned from gathering peacefully near the site. Could it be that…
My thoughts were interrupted as a police car pulled up next to me, a second one stopping further ahead across the road.
“What are you doing here?”
“Having a party for one.”
The woman behind the steering wheel looked blank so I gestured: “Women’s peace camp. Twenty second birthday party!”
Her expression changed and she opened her mouth.
“Never mind,” I said. “New byelaws, is it?”
“Yes.” She relaxed. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah, just waiting to be picked up.”
“Alright.” With that, she drove on. I was relieved that my husband did not turn the corner at that moment to see me with two cop cars. Plus they would probably have nicked him for having a damaged wing mirror. But then, the police didn’t seem to be in the mood for making any arrests.
I could be wrong of course. The relationship between the cops and the protesters has always been a rocky one. And back home I found out that, yes, I had been wrong. The ten earlier arrest understandably soured everybody’s appetite for celebration.
Frankly, I don’t have the stomach for it either. With the new laws, non-violent peace-protesters can be prosecuted under the Serious Organised Crime and Police Act, following recent anti-terrorism legislation. Apparently, it’s protesters who now present a terrorist threat.
Little by little, public liberties are being eroded. And the sad thing is that nobody seems to notice.
Tags: AWE, events, Party, Peace, Tadley, Tadley Times, Tag Index
Denni
October 17th, 2007 at 17:56
[…] Standing in this place, at the other end of the world, I could not stop thinking about the bomb factory on my doorstep, the new buildings mushrooming at its centre and the skeletal arms of lifting cranes reaching into the grey sky just like the tower of the dome that overlooks the park. […]