45.Monday May 14th, 1984.

Today has been the most frustrating and disappointing day of the strike so far, and also the most violent!

Scargill had called for a mass demonstration in Mansfield to show the strength of the strike, and to show support for the 11,000 Notts men out on strike with us. Our Lodge officials responded by providing ONE coach, leaving a lot of the regular pickets disappointed. Fortunately Ian Wilburn had helped to organise an extra coach through Newcastle SWP to show our officials they aren’t the only ones who can organise, and that the SWP isn’t just interested in selling papers.

There were only 15 of us and the bus turned up late so we didn’t have time to round up more people, which was disappointing. The men on the union coach were each given £5 subsistence allowance so we decided to do the same out of the money we’d collected in Manchester. We’ll try and claim it back off the Lodge later.

We caught up with the Newcastle Poly coach at a service station and that was full. The guy who had organised the coaches, Simon, told us he was having trouble getting the Labour Party and Militant members on board to contribute towards the cost of our coach. I offered to pay for it from our funds but Simon refused and said he’d sort it.

We arrived in Mansfield at 11am and asked the driver to return at 4pm. The rally was to start from a community centre and return there after we’d marched through the streets of Mansfield. The car park of the centre was jam packed with dozens of colourful banners  and we pushed our way through to our Lodge banner. There were lots of surprised faces amongst the Westoe men when we showed up. I was shocked when Tommy Wilson and his henchmen gathered around Ian Wilburn and Keith Smoult and threatened to beat them up! They said nothing to me but there was a very hostile atmosphere and I warned Ian and Keith to stay well clear of Tommy and his thugs. The only reason I can think of for Tommy’s reaction is that he’s a union official and perhaps felt his authority had been challenged. Whatever, it was totally out of order and completely over the top.

The march set off and was a wonderful sight, with ‘Victory to the Miners’ placards everywhere. Ian, Keith and myself kept to the edge of the march so we could sell Socialist Worker, and keep out of Tommy’s way. I quickly sold all my papers and so did Ian and Keith. One thing that was very noticeable was the low profile of the pigs, though there were helicopters buzzing constantly overhead. I felt tremendously proud as we marched through the crowded streets of Mansfield and felt that such a huge display of solidarity couldn’t be ignored by the Notts scabs. My pride soon turned to embarrassment as a large group of lads began chanting,’Get your tits out for the lads,tits out for the lads’ at some young shopgirls leaning out of a window. To make it worse there were lots of Women’s Support Groups present. I tried to shout at the lads to stop but only got verbal abuse in response, except for one lad who said it was ‘only a bit of fun, a laugh, and anyway the lasses love it’. They just couldn’t see anything wrong with their behaviour but how can we expect women to support us if we treat them with such disrespect? I was relieved when the chant changed to, ‘Piggy,piggy,piggy,oink,oink,oink’, a variation on the ‘Maggie’ chant. At least it was aimed at an enemy.

As we marched back into the car park I decided to stay at the entrance to see if I could spot any familiar faces. It was wonderful to see all the different support groups and banners and I felt very encouraged. A young woman approached me and tried to sell me a copy of, ‘The Next Step’, the paper of the Workers Revolutionary Party. When I looked at the front cover I was shocked to see the headline was calling for a national ballot to unite the miners! I advised her to join Militant, or the Tory party but she continued to argue that a ballot was the only way to unite the miners. About as revolutionary as Neil Kinnock! I think RCP stands for the Ray Chadburn Party. The woman was very persistant until I was forced to swear to get rid of her.

I was relieved to meet up with Phil Ramsall and Irene Davis and we stood discussing which pits would be mass picketed because we felt this was the real reason for the rally. As the speeches began I was totally gobsmacked to hear Scargill introducing Tony Benn as,’The greatest Energy Minister we have ever had’. I couldn’t believe my ears because it was Benn who introduced the divisive Incentive Scheme, despite a national ballot rejecting it two to one. That’s ballots for you! In my opinion it is the Incentive Scheme which has caused the Notts miners to scab because they earn huge bonuses in their nice thick seams. At Westoe we earn next to nothing for working 7 miles out under the North Sea in wet conditions and relatively thin seams. Benn is a misguided fool who believes all we have to do is vote in a few hundred left wing MP’s like him and we’ll have some kind of Socialist Utopia. Bollocks! Scargill gave out his usual fighting rhetoric but made no call for a mass picket. Very disappointing.

Speeches over we headed to a nearby pub for some dinner. We had fish and chips and a pint before Phil and Irene had to leave. I joined some of the students from Newcastle Poly who were sitting with some Westoe lads. Two of the students, Brenda and Joan turned the discussion to the sexist chants on the march, and said they were,’Fucking disgusting and fucking demeaning’. One of the lads responded by saying,’If you were my wife I’d give you a good hiding for using foul language like that’! I could see Brenda was really angry and I tried to diffuse the situation by chipping in with,’How would you feel if I asked your wife or daughter to get their tits out?’ One of the lads jumped up, really offended, and Brenda jumped up, even more offended. Thankfully the landlord called ‘time’ and ordered us all out. In the bogs we heard some lads saying that Scargill had done a deal with the pigs that had allowed the rally to go ahead in exchange for no picketing. I didn’t want to believe that one but it did explain the low police presence and the absence of a call for mass picketing. The news had reported that there were over 40,000 people present, and if they’d gone to picket we could have shut down Notts completely. To me it was a missed opportunity.

We left the pub and were strolling towards the car park, enjoying the sunshine. Suddenly we heard glass braking and saw a mob of riot police in full gear appearing from behind the community centre and started beating up two lads, kicking and punching them. We all started shouting and running towards the lads intending to help them but were stopped in our tracks by the sight of mounted police on huge horses galloping out of the community centre, clubbing anyone who got in their way. I was momentarily frozen but the sight of a man falling to the ground with blood pouring from his head shook me into life and I started to run across the road to a church doorway. I remember thinking they couldn’t touch me there because it as sanctuary. Daft! People were shouting and screaming and scattering in all directions as they tried to avoid the horses. I watched in shock from the church doorway as a woman with a pushchair was hit and fell to the ground, the pushchair falling over and her child screaming! Not one of the pigs following the horses stopped to help her. They were too busy hitting anyone they could catch! They were dressed all in black with crash helmets, plastic shields and truncheons. I ran out and helped the woman and her child into the doorway, then ran out again to help a man covered in blood back to safety. It was a massacre, and as far as I could see, totally unprovoked. It looked like a battlefield.

Eventually we felt safe enough to make our way back to the car park where coaches were constantly moving out. I spotted some Westoe lads and ran to join them. The lads told me that everyone had been told to leave by 3.30 and anyone left would be arrested and charged with rioting! Someone had gone to find our coach whilst our party grew by the minute as people returned, each with their own horror story to tell. There were pigs everywhere, pushing people about and shouting at people to leave, arresting people for no reason.

We were very relieved when our coach arrived and the pigs started to roughly push us on board. We did a head count and were relieved to find no one was missing. We let on a load of lads from Doncaster whose coach had gone. One lad was hiding under the back seat because pigs were after him. We all breathed a huge sigh of relief when we hit the M1 and left Mansfield behind.

One of the Yorkshire lads told me that a lad had been wearing a toy cops tit helmet and some pigs started laying into him. His mates retalliated by throwing bottles at them. That’s when the riot police appeared, a real life Trojan Horse.

A cynic might say that because this all happened as the pubs were closing the pigs could justify their actions by blaming ‘drunken hooligans’ who left them no option but to respond as they had, and then make an example of those arrested to discourage others from coming to Notts.

Another cynic might ask what all those pigs and horses were doing in a community centre in the first place? Marx said,’Political power is the organised power of one class for oppressing another’. It’s about time we started oppressing them for a change!!!

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.

39. Monday May 7th, 1984.

Since I, and quite a few others are now banned from picketing at Tow Law, we were asked if we wanted to go away on flying picket duty. I got a phonecall from the Lodge Secretary asking if I wanted to go. I said yes straightaway, grateful for the chance to stay active. We were going to Lancashire where there are pits still working. As soon as I put the phone down I rang Kath to break the news. She took it surprisingly well and wished me good luck. I told her we would probably be back before the weekend. I felt a lot easier in my mind with her backing. We had to be at the Armstrong Hall for 3pm.

After packing my holdall I received a call from Mike Simons of the SWP asking for news. When I told him we were heading for Lancashire he gave me some phone numbers of comrades in Manchester who I can call if we need accomodation. We both agreed that our most likely target would be Agecroft Colliery because that’s where local union officials have told their members to ignore picket lines. Bloody disgusting! I promised to keep Mike informed of any newsworthy events because he is one of the people who write Socialist Worker.

At the Armstrong Hall the 15 of us going were given £32 subsistence allowance from the Durham NUM which is to make sure we can eat. The Secretary told us to be careful and not to forget to keep in touch with our families because he didn’t want worried wives and girlfriends ringing him to find out what was happening.

There were about 60 pickets at the hall and there was a lot of bad feeling about only 15 of us being allowed to go, with the majority view being that as many men as wanted to go should be allowed to go. I agreed, but the Secretary explained that he had no say in the matter because the decision had been taken by the Area Executive. He added that all the Lodges have been split into four groups, with each group consisting of four pits who would work together as picketing teams. Westoe has been teamed with Sacriston, Wearmouth, and Herrington, and these pits will work together on all future flying pickets.

The coach finally arrived with 10 pickets from Sacriston on board and we loaded our bags into the boot. The coach then headed to Wearmouth where we picked up 20 men, then finally down to Herrington where the final 10 men boarded. Fully loaded we set off for Lancashire with only the few union officials on board knowing exactly where we were going, and they refused to tell us, though god knows why because it wasn’t as if we could tell anyone!

The journey took about three hours and I passed the time chatting to a lad from Westoe I’d sold a few copies of Socialist Worker to, Gary Marshall. We got on really well and have a lot in common. He told me he is growing increasingly disillusioned with the Labour Party, of which he’s been a member for 13 years. He hates Kinnock, more now because of his almost total lack of support for us miners, and he said he agrees with a lot of the stuff he reads in Socialist Worker. I think he’s got real potential as a party member so we agreed to try and stick together on this picket.

We arrived at Bold Miners Welfare to find it full to capacity with Durham miners. I recognised loads of faces and was pleased to see Arthur Oxley, who bought me a pint but before we could settle in the order came to get back onto the coach because we were heading to Manchester where accomodation had been arranged at a social club in Eccles.

We arrived at the Greenbank Labour Club around 9pm and a lot of the lads were whingeing about not being able to stay in Bold. I discovered that a lot of them had been in Bold last week and had managed to fix themselves up with comfortable lodgings, and so were pissed off because they were too far away to take advantage.

The club was full of people celebrating the Bank Holiday and watching the Steve Davis, Jimmy White snooker final on a big screen TV. We struggled through the crowd with our luggage and sleeping bags and followed a woman upstairs who showed us the room we would be sleeping in. She welcomed us and said we could stay for the week, and that alternative accomodation would be fixed in people’s homes in the morning, though probably not for all of us. I told Gary I would ring some contacts in Manchester to try and get us somewhere to stay.

I phoned a comrade called Irene Davis and she told me to ring a guy called Phil Ramsall, which I did. He gave me the address of a guy  called Mick Brightman who only lives five minutes away. Phil asked me to ring him again in the morning after picket duty. I told our union man where we were going but he wasn’t pleased and said we should all stick together. I insisted we were going and he’s told us to report back to the club at 4.15am!

After a few wrong turnings and some directions from a local pub we finally found the address we were looking for. We were nervous about knocking on a strangers door but it was bloody freezing so I knocked gingerly. The door was opened by a smiling face who welcomed us into a lovely warm room whilst he went off to the kitchen. He soon returned with hot coffee and egg sandwiches, and whilst we ate he asked a stream of questions about how the strike was going in Durham. He told us that him and his wife Jane were students but that he had once been involved in a strike at a place called Gardners that had lasted 26 weeks!! We said ours wouldn’t last that long and that we couldn’t imagine how hard it must’ve been for him. He introduced us to Jane and she told us they were both studying hard for exams. We took the hint and said we’d like to sleep if it was possible because we had to be up at 4am to return to the club. he told us to make ourselves at home. He showed us into a front room which was full of books and had a bed settee. I was amazed by all the books, being an avid reader myself but Gary reminded me we needed to sleep so we settled down, top to toe on the settee and within minutes Gary was knocking out zeds! I will soon join him.