The G8 March, Edinburugh Scotland

Imagine the noise, the mess, the pure feeling of excitement created by tens of thousands of people, marching together like one massive white being around Scotland’s Capital. As they march past look at the buildings lining a route of steel barricades and traffic cones.

Romanesque architecture built with Scottish Stone, modern shops with boarded up windows to deal with rioters and yet still operational. Above Jenners apartment store and its lovely façade hovers a solitary helicopter, its camera capturing the scene bellow.

Looking closer and you are a policewoman; hand on truncheon and face emotionless. You stand to the side of Princes street, protected by a cast iron fence and Kevlar vest. From your station at the fence watch the people slide past, their faces contrasting with their white tee-shirts so they look like leaves afloat on a moving river. Look from her eyes, this police woman on the seashore and see the people walk past in a mass of difference; a red shirted socialist clutching vicious propaganda, Muslim women in traditional garb, whistle blowing hippies and society girls marching side by side.

One of those marching is Sondra, the pretty university student and sister to Alan, marching with her handbag and skirt as me and her brother carry various protest signs over our shoulders, swapping frequently:
“Make Poverty History”
“Trade Justice”
“More and Better Aid”
“Drop the Debt”
“Islamic Relief”
“Bush: Number one dictator”


. From the castle on its mound, if you looked carefully, you could see a light ribbon of white tee shirts, completely encircling the city centre. At the meadows where thousands sit, stand and sleep, one announcement booms out above all others “the goal is complete”, the message sent to the eight leaders of the worlds richest countries that “enough is enough”