44. Saturday May 12th, 1984.

Geoff drove us to the Greenbank Labour club where we’d been told to report for 9am. We said our grateful thanks to Geoff and Julie for their fantastic hospitality and went into the club.Nine ‘o’ clock came and went and it wasn’t until 9.40 that the coach finally arrived. I had another furious row with our union man for making us wait, especially as he’d told the driver to turn up at 9.30.

The rally in St.Helen’s was massive, with well over 10,000 people attending. All the Durham Lodge banners had been brought through on the Executive coach, along with most of the Executive led by Tommy Callan and Harold Mitchell. Every pit in Durham and Northumberland was represented and it was a great turn out.

We set off at 11.30 and it took  us ages to march along the route, cheered on by huge crowds of Saturday shoppers. Just as we reached the place where the rally was to be held and the speeches made our committee men ordered us all to get back on the coach to leave, and that anyone who didn’t would be left behind. I tried to argue that we’d each been given £8 to attend and the least we could do was listen to the speeches. They totally ignored me and at least a couple of lads were left behind when our coach left. Nobody else seemed bothered.

On the journey back the Wearmouth union man again had a go at me and told the lads that I was more interested in selling ‘Commie’ papers than being a picket! He demanded that i share out the money we had collected between the 4 Lodges on the coach. There was no way I was going to do that after all the hard work Gary and me had put in whilst most of them were content to get pissed. I lied and said we’d given all the money back rather than share it with useless twats like him! I couldn’t be arsed to argue with the bastard. If he wasn’t against me before then he is now so I’ll have to watch my back. It’s bad enough having the full force of the state against us without my own side joining in as well. They make me sick!

Kath was furious when I got back and is refusing to talk to me, especially as Mick Armstrong from Newcastle SWP has just phoned to tell me a coach is leaving the Armstrong Hall at 8am on Monday to attend a rally in Mansfield.. I told Kath I’m going so she’s gone to bed in a foul mood and caleed me a selfish bastard. I can see her point but what can I do? The sooner we win this strike the sooner we can get back to normal.

42. Thursday May 10th, 1984.

Gary eventually managed to wake me at 5.15 after I’d slept through an alarm clock and a radio switched on next to my bed. Gary had taken a shower before I managed to drag myself off to the bathroom, skipping the shower in favour of a wash with ice cold water to wake me up.

Downstairs we found Geoff had got up before us and made a breakfast of eggs on toast and hot strong coffee. Lovely. He drove the four of us to the picket line at Agecroft, with John and Keith staying silent the whole way. I put this down to the events of last night.

There was only Stan the local nutter and a few others when we arrived but the rest soon showed up. Thery told us that we weren’t going home today as planned but are going tomorrow instead. We are all to be given an extra £8 but anyone who still wanted to return home as planned could go because a coach was leaving straight after the picket. I was glad to see only a few of the older men took up the offer with the rest of us looking forward to spending the extra money.

Geoff left at seven to get ready for work. He’s a lecturer in Trade Union Studies at Manchester Poly and he asked if gary and me could call in to see him at eleven because he wanted us to speak to his class of shop stewards. Just after he left a taxi sped past us and into the pit. I said to Gary that the scabs must be earning good money to be able to afford taxis into work. Gary said the scabs weren’t paying for it, Thatcher is, and I had to agree. One of the pickets then told us it wasn’t scabs in the taxi but two lads from Wearmouth who were planning to storm the canteen and get the scabs! I admired their guts but feared for their safety.

Ten minutes later the lads were marched out through the gates by an escort of pigs, and to loud cheers from us were allowed to rejoin the picket. They told us that everything had gone to plan until they ran into the canteen and found it full of pigs who stared at them in amazement before they were nicked. The lads said they couldn’t understand why they hadn’t been arrested but weren’t complaining. I think the pigs admired their cheek and besides, they hadn’t actually committed any crime.

After all the scabs had gone in Gary and me decided to go to a local shop to get some sweets and fags. When we got back there were only about a dozen lads. They told us the coach was coming back to pick us up so we stood about chatting, ‘guarded’ by two bored looking pigs who had probably drawn the short straw. As we talked a really flash car approached the pit and I shouted ‘Scab’ at the top of my voice, stretching the word out. To my great surprise the car screeched to a halt and a huge pig got out, ramming a swagger stick beneath his arm and striding across the road towards us with a look on his face that said he wasn’t amused. He was a huge bastard, brick shithouse like with a bright red face. I thought I was in for it but instead he marched up to a Westoe picket known as ‘Vic the Brick’ and began accusing him of doing the shouting. Vic rightfully denied being responsible but the pig called him a liar and began poking him in the chest with his stick saying, ‘Why don’t you take these other vermin with you back to Durham where you crawled from!’ Vic is not the sort of lad to take that from anyone, not even a senior police officer and replied, ‘If you touch with that fuckin’ stick once more I’ll wrap it round your fat fuckin’ neck!!’ The pig wisely stopped poking Vic but shouted for the area to be cleared immediately. He looked like he was about to explode, like one of those cartoon characters who’ve eaten something too hot. Pigs came running from the canteen and began to force us away by roughly pushing us down the road, with us putting up enough resistance to make their job difficult but not enough to get arrested. One pig warned us to be careful because that was James Anderton, Chief Constable of Manchester. Vic still wasn’t impressed.

Back on our coach I got another shock when a union official from Wearmouth came storming up to me and demanded that I give John £30 to compensate for his stolen bag. I was totally gobsmacked and said I didn’t have £30. The only money I had was the money collected for our Women’s Support Group who badly needed funds. He replied that the SWP had given me money, and if they could give me money, they could give John money as well. I told him that they had only given us £20, and John had refused half. He then said we should put it to a vote, telling everyone I was trying to undermine the union. I gave in and handed the Judas his thirty pieces of silver. The bastard couldn’t even look me in the eye, and even had the cheek to ask if I could bring his and Keith’s bags to the picket tomorrow because they’d found somewhere else to stay. Gary wanted to punch him but I said it wouldn’t help. The whole incident left me feeling like shit and yet again I’m accused of things I never did by petty bloody officials. Bastards.

At the Poly we were met by Phil Ramsall who had a full day planned for us. I was glad because it would keep us occupied in a positive way. We agreed to meet up at Piccadilly train station at twelve then we headed off to find Geoff’s office.

After a few wrong turnings we managed to find it in an annexe at the back of the Poly. We were asked to wait whilst Geoff went to ask his class if they wanted to let us speak. We chatted with Geoff’s secretary and she asked if we were working miners or striking miners, and were we Geordies. I said yes but ones with brains and taste who support Sunderland. She supports Manchester City and we chatted nicely for ten minutes about football, especially Bobby Charlton and the merits of individual skills.

Geoff returned to tell us his class had voted to let us speak and asked the secretary if she’d like to come along. She agreed but said she could only spare a few minutes because she was very busy. Gary confided he was as nervous as hell but I told him I was as well and not to worry because we’d manage fine.

There were about twenty students present, plus another lecturer, Geoff and the secretary. Geoff introduced us and I began by outlining the reasons why the strike had started, with Gary elaborating on what I’d said before we both settled to answer questions. The questions were the usual ones,ballot, scabs, violence, policing and flying pickets, and Gary and I took turns in answering, backing each other up when needed. I felt we did well because they had a collection which raised £40, including a quid from the secretary who had stayed till the end. Geoff later told us she was a Tory supporter and had initially refused to even meet us so it just goes to show how ideas can be changed through argument.

We had a coffee with some of the students afterwards and discovered one of them was a bus driver and shop steward at a local depot. We told him about the buses going into Agecroft and he went straight to a phone to have it stopped so that was a bonus. We told Geoff we’d see him about five and also told him that John and Keith wouldn’t be returning, and what had happened on the coach.This surprised him as well but he told us not to be bitter because they were only doing what most people do, look after number one.

Gary was elated at our success, and for the first time he said he was seriously considering joining the SWP. At the Railway Club we spoke to about 30 men at an unofficial meeting because the stewards had refused to call a special meeting. I let Gary do most of the talking and he urged the railway workers to come out on strike in support of the NUM, and that overtime bans and one day strikes achieve nothing. United action would give the Tories a real fight. He got a great reception and we were handed £120 which they’d collected! Gary was full of confidence as we left the meeting.

We had a bit of time to spare before we met Phil so we went to a nearby market where I bought a cheap bag, three pairs of underpants for a quid and five pairs of socks for the same price. Two sweatshirts for £2 completed my spending spree, all out of my £8 picket money.

Phil drove us to his flat for a quick coffee and introduced us to two lads from Davey Hulme Waterworks. They were going to take us to a meeting outside the works gates. The lads were brilliant, like a comedy duo, cracking jokes all the way and giving us a good laugh. One of them bore a strong resemblance to Mike Harding the folk singer.

The ‘waterworks’ was really a sewage plant and the smell was bloody awful but we soon had a small crowd outside waiting to hear us. Again all the usual questions were asked and answered, with one man standing out and asking most of the questions. He had a copy of the ‘Sun’ sticking out of his pocket and seemed amazed when we told him the average striking miner and his family were living on £12 a week from Social Insecurity plus Family Allowance, whilst single miners receive nothing at all! A union official told us he was surprised we were here to picket at Agecroft Colliery because when they had a strike the Agecroft men had given them financial support and stood on their picket line! I told him about the union men washing dishes for the pigs and he’s promised to have a word with them to see what the hell is going on. He’s also agreed to try and join our picket in the morning.

As we were leaving the union man gave us £20 which had been collected, but more impressively the ‘Sun’ reader shook my hand and as he quickly walked off I found a £10 note in my hand! That really made our day!

Before we went back to Geoff’s we addressed a meeting of the Socialist Worker Students Society and yet again went through all the familiar questions and answers. At least we are becoming rock solid in our arguments.

Back at Geoff’s we took a much needed shower and then ate a lovely meal which Geoff had cooked. The best I can manage is egg and chips! We had a really interesting conversation about the SWP and Geoff told us he had spent some time in Germany and was active in their equivalent of the SWP. I bet he’s an excellent lecturer!

Phil picked us up at 7.30 to go to Gorton Branch meeting that was also held in the upstairs room of a pub. This was the best meeting I’ve been to so far and the main speaker was excellent, John Taylor from Bradford. He spoke on, ‘The History of the Labour Party’ and he made it very interesting by adding a lot of humour. Gary and me did our bit but this time stressed the role the SWP have played for us as striking miners and how we worked in the strike. Wer had a good time, and for once allowed ourselves to get pissed. Again we received lots of envelopes containing money collected by  comrades. All in all a brilliant day full of incident.

41. Wednesday May 9th, 1984.

What a stinking bastard day! No, that’s not quite accurate because the day was OK, it’s the evening that was a bastard but I’ll get to that later.

We had a nice lie in and breakfast before heading for Manchester Free Trade Hall where NUT teachers were discussing their pay claim. They were meeting to discuss what action to take in support of their pay claim which has been rejected by the Tories. I stood outside selling Socialist Worker with a comrade called Irene Davis as the delegates went in. Irene told me we were standing on the site of the ‘Peterloo Massacre’ and although the name sounded familiar I didn’t know what it was. She enlightened me by explaining that thousands of workers had attended a meeting there in 1819 and that army troops had slaughtered dozens of innocent people with no provocation. Irene asked me if I would be prepared to address the meeting being held inside though the delegates would have to pass a motion first to allow mw to speak. I nervously agreed though the thought of addressing a big meeting was a bit scary.

I was taken into the meeting by Ann Robertson, the comrade who put John and Keith up last night and who is also a teacher. The hall was packed and there must’ve been at least a thousand people inside which made my knees wobble a bit. We made our way down to the front and sat down as the speakers on the platform began urging such ‘radical’ actions as one day strikes and going to arbitration, and these were supposed to be the ‘educated elite’! No one was calling for all out strike action which seemed to me, an ignorant miner, the obvious course of action because with us already out the Tories wouldn’t relish a fight against two powerful unions.

A motion was proposed to allow a striking miner to address the meeting, and after being seconded a vote was taken. To my disappointment, and a bit of relief, the motion didn’t get the two thirds majority needed but it was close apparently and that was encouraging. I momentarily considered storming the stage and speaking anyway but I didn’t have the confidence. When a young man took the microphone and introduced himself as a Christian teacher, then began quoting passages from the bible that proved that strikes were ‘evil’, I decided there was no point in me staying so I walked out.

Back outside I stood collecting with a bucket and was really pleased by the response I got as teachers left the hall, with some of them stopping to say they wished I had been given a chance to speak. Irene told them that a meeting was being held in a nearby pub at 12.30 and that I would be speaking there, everyone welcome. We set off for the pub with me carrying the bucket which was gratifyingly full and arm achingly heavy.

Inside the pub I met up with Gary who had also been denied the chance to speak at his meeting though he has been invited back tomorrow when he’s been assured he will be allowed to speak. There were about thirty people present and both Gary and myself spoke briefly before being asked the usual questions such as, ‘Why hasn’t there been a national ballot?’ and, ‘Why should miners be exempt from job losses?’ My response to the first question was that we had all been allowed a democratic vote in our own areas and everyone was allowed to voice their views. The result is that the majority of NUM members are out on strike, and because we are the majority the areas that are scabbing should join us because majorities should rule. As for job losses miners have always suffered from jobs being lost. In Durham alone 80,000 jobs have gone since Nationalisation in 1947 when the industry was supposedly given to the people. We got a good round of applause and received another £20, which when added to the bucket collection made a total of £74.82p. Gary is really impressed with both the organisational abilities of the SWP, and their politics, and has agreed to speak at a meeting this evening to be held in the same pub.

After the meeting Gary and me went with a comrade called Dick to a picket of Johnson’s Paints where the workers have been out on strike for 2 weeks in pursuance of a pay claim. It was interesting talking to the 5 pickets and swapping experiences but I got the impression that they weren’t too interested in what we had to say. We left after a while, mainly because it was bloody freezing but also because we had to collect our stuff from Hilary’s because her mother had arrived. Dick drove us and he was a mine of information about Manchester’s history, especially Peterloo. We thanked him for his trouble and the history lesson.

We met up with John and Keith who told us this morning’s picket at Agecroft had been boring and we had missed nothing. I asked them if they wanted to come along to an SWP meeting and at first they didn’t seem keen but when I told them the meeting was held in a pub they agreed. Keith was going to Central Branch with Gary, and John was coming with me to Salford. We would all meet up at our new lodgings later. We packed our bags for the move, and I put all coins into the bottom of my holdall which made it very heavy. Ann picked us up at 7.15 and we drove the short distance to the pub and parked outside. Hilary drove Keith and Gary to Central Branch then returned to join us in Salford because this is her branch.

The meeting was excellent with a full room to hear Roger Cox, a comrade from London, address the meeting. He was very sharp and knowlegeable, and we had an excellent debate on the strike. My contribution was well received and I tried to encourage John to speak but he was too shy. He seemed to enjoy the debate, though he was a bit put out by criticisms of Scargill. In the break I tried to explain to John that no one was above criticism, even if they are vastly superior to your average trade union leader. John remained unconvinced. The rest of the meeting went well and I was given a lot of envelopes by comrades containing money they had collected. I thanked them for their solidarity.

I felt elated about the money we had collected for the Womens Support Group but it was short lived because when we got to Ann’s car we found the back windows had been smashed and our bags were gone! I’d lost all my clothes, my bloody glasses, and all the coins we’d collected today! Fortunately the notes were safely in my pocket. John hadn’t been daft enough to leave money in his bag but he has lost all his clothes, and more importantly to him he’s lost the diary he’d been keeping for his kids when they grow up. I felt really sorry for him with one and was guiltily relieved that I always keep mine in my coat pocket. We cursed our stupidity at leaving our stuff in full view on the back seat. We should have left them in the boot, or bloody taken them with us! Still, no point crying over spilt milk. We did a quick scout around the area in the vain hope our bags would’ve been dumped with at least our clothes in them but no luck. I asked some kids if they’d seen anything but just got blank stares in response, little bastards!

Back at the car Ann was upset about the damage to her car and wondered what she should do. We went back into the pub and they had a whip round for us which raised £20. I offered John half but he refused and said he still had £30 in his pocket, which was kind of him. Anne was advised to report the theft and damage to the police, even though we knew they wouldn’t do anything. The main reason was so Ann could claim from her insurance. We drove the short distance to the local cop shop to make our report. A bored pig went through his routine and only perked up a bit when we gave our names and addresses and he asked what we were doing in Manchester. We naturally lied and said we were visiting friends but he gave us a shock by saying he was sure he’d seen us somewhere before. Bastard was just testing but Agecroft isn’t too far away and he could have seen us on the picket. We said we’d just arrived in Manchester tonight. He said it was highly unlikely they’d catch anyone. Surprise. Too bloody busy beating up miners!

Ann drove us slowly to Geoff Browns’s house in Prestwich and I apologised to her because I feel it was our fault for leaving temptation. She was very gracious and told me to forget it and put it down to experience.

We were given a warm welcome by our new hosts, Geoff and Julie Brown. They were very sympathetic when they heard about the theft and gave us tea and homemade cake. John was miserable as sin, and as soon as his mate arrived back they went to their room. Gary and me chatted about our meetings and I wasn’t too surprised when he told me that a committee man from Easington had spoken like an idiot, extolling the great virtues of Scargill and how we all had to do what he said, as if he is some kind of god, and he took all the money collected for union funds. To be fair I know a lot of lads from Easington and they are excellent so perhaps this lad was having an off night, and I know the money will be well used. Gary did manage to speak and was pleased about the reception he got. His confidence is growing, which is nice to see.

Our room is great and we both have a comfortable bed to sleep in. As usual Gary is snoring loudly and I’m about to join him. The only clothes I have left are on the floor, a pair of jeans, a shirt, a pair of socks and boots, a jacket and a coat.