136. Monday January 7th, 1984.

The NCB are claiming over 1,000 men returned to work today. At Westoe, as at other pits in the North East, they were expecting a huge surge back. It never happened at Westoe, though there were a few more than Friday. There was a very discouraging return at Herrington, led by the Lodge Chairman, a rat called Stokoe. Also, at Ellington, the Lodge Secretary led a return to work, despite his son being a leading member of ‘Militant’. These two dickheads claim an allegiance to the NUM, and will almost certainly encourage more scabbing from the so called ‘moderate miners’ who have sat on their arses for 10 months! Bastards!

The situation at Wearmouth just gets worse and I feel really sorry for their predominantly left wing officials because they have a lot more scabs than us, and our officials have been crap whilst theirs have been excellent. It just doesn’t make sense.

90. Sunday September 9th, 1984.

I had intended staying at home today with Kath but we had a blazing row so I went to Doncaster for an SWP miners meeting instead. I’m glad I did because it gave us the opportunity to discuss how the strike is going in our respective areas. There was general agreement that the strike is now firmly on the defensive, with all of us mainly concerned with stopping scabs breaking the strike. To ensure this we need to get more men out onto the picket lines, and as Ian Mitchell from Silverwood told us from his own experience, the way to do that is to ‘go on the knocker’ and visit every striking miner we can to argue why they should be active. At the very least it could prevent men from scabbing, which will be important if we are to go on the offensive in the winter.

There was also agreement that there is a big danger of the new talks between MacGregor and Scargill leading to a sell out, and further demoralisation if they break down,which seems inevitable because the NUM has nothing to bargain with. We haven’t got the bastards by the balls, nowhere near it.

The importance of us selling Socialist Worker was stressed again because that is how pickets can be kept informed of exactly what is happening in the strike. We must always try to sell the paper on picket lines, inminers welfares and strike centrex because it’s vital we are identified with the paper. That’s how we get our ideas across and we can have important arguments at the same time. At Westoe, Gary, Ian, John, Keith and myself have built a good reputation as active militanys and we need to continue being identified with the SWP and put forward constructive suggestions at union meetings. The first one is to get a list of addresses and use all the men banned from picketing to go out and visit men who are not active and try to persuade them to join us.

When I got home I had a phonecall asking me to meet the journalist at the bus stop near our house and I set off in the dark, expecting to meet some hippie type with long hair and flares because I used to read the NME regularly up until a few years ago and that’s how I imagined he would look. I was shocked when a tall skinhead with a red Harrington jacket, jeans and red boxing boots loomed out of the darkness. He introduced himself as Chris Moore and we walked back to my house. I was relieved to hear he’s an SWP member and not in the National Front, as I’d always irrationally thought about skinheads.

We sat up talking about the strike and about music. He’s in a band himself called ‘The Redskins’, whom I’ve never heard of, but he’s brought me a record and a tape of their stuff which I’ll listen to tomorrow.

67. Saturday June 30th, 1984.

This morning saw the ‘Coal Not Dole’ march and rally organised by our Lodge officials. It was a very disappointing turn out, only a few thousand people, but it could have been so much better if they’d told us about it and allowed us, the rank and file, to have some part in the organisation. All the Durham lodges were represented, plus a couple from Yorkshire and Kent, but when you consider the coal mining traditions of South Shields, which once boasted 3 pits, with even more in the close vicinity, then it was disappointing. I suppose that because the town has lost most of its industries and has a high level of unemployment, apathy is part of life. It’ll be a hell of a lot worse if Westoe ever closes!

We marched from the Armstrong Hall to the Bents Park on the seafront, and if anything, the rally was more of a disappointment than the march. The speakers were abysmal. Our Lodge Secretary introduced Jack Taylor of Yorkshire Area NUM as; ‘A future legend of the trade union movement’. Leg end is more like it! It was him who signed the deal to allow coal into Scunthorpe steelworks allowing them to break productivity records! He was full of empty rhetoric and received only lukewarm applause. Jim Slater was applauded only because of the seaman’s support, and because he’s from Shields, as his speech was boring, and only Jack Collins of Kent NUM came out with any credibility.

It’s typical of the total lack of organisation at Westoe that we couldn’t even hold a decent rally. Pathetic!

 

62. Monday June 25th, 1984.

Since the disaster at Orgreave I’ve spent my time at Woodside Drift Mine. The best thing that can be said about it is that at least we kept a van load of pigs away from Tow Law. It’s given me the chance to build a good relationship with the pickets and sell Socialist Worker plus discussing the strike. We also played football but I ruined my shoes and have had to buy another pair for £4.99. No more football!

After picketing we had a dinner of fishcake and chips in the soup kitchen and it was there I learned I am one of 16 men pulled out of a hat to go on flying picket duty. The fact that over a 100 men wanted to go has caused a lot of resentment amongst the lads not chosen, especially those who’ve been active since day one. I still can’t see why the lodge can’t send all the men who want to go because they’re risking men just giving up and staying at home.

I was told to report to the hall for 6pm so I went home and flung some clothes into a bag, slung a sleeping bag over my shoulder then caught a bus down to Kath’s workplace. We had a coffee together whilst I buttered her up before telling her I was off again for a few days on a flying picket. She accepted this with a resigned look on her face and wasn’t as upset as I’d expected her to be. She must be getting used to it. We walked into town at 5pm and parted at the bus stop with a kiss.

At the hall I signed for my £32 and was told we’ll probably be home on Thursday. The only thing that Slater would tell us is we’re heading for Scotland so it was likely we’d be going to Bilston Glen where they have a lot of scabs, and also where a lot of Durham lads have already been arrested.

Typically we had to wait 2 hours for the coach to arrive and because we’d been paid a lot of the lads took the opportunity to have a pint or five, which made for a boisterous journey. As for the Manchester trip last month there were 4 pits represented; Westoe, Wearmouth, Herrington and Sacriston. The driver took a discrete route over the border because we didn’t want to be stopped by the pigs, and we had to make quite a few piss stops so we didn’t get to Dalkeith Miners Welfare until after midnight.

So here we are, lying on seats in the concert room after being fed a supper of soup and bread. The possibility of sleep is looking remote seeing as a pool competition is taking place (its 2.24am!)We’ve been told picketing starts at 5am and have been promised better accomodation later today.I bloody hope so because I am shattered!

53. Thursday June 7th, 1984.

Today has been a huge disappointment in terms of solidarity and as a result I have had my first ever experience of prison, though only for a few hours.

Sixty eight of us appeared at Bishop Auckland Magistrates court to answer charges relating to picketing at Tow Law over the past few months. The first cases to be heard were those men arrested at Deerness with the MP Bob Clay in April. Deerness is an entrance to the open cast site at Tow Law. I was arrested at Inkerman which is another entrance to the same site, which is huge.

Twelve men faced the bench, and when the first of them was again remanded on bail it was discovered that the bail conditions had been changed. They had been; ‘Not to go within two miles of Deerness’ but now they were;’ Not to go within a two mile radius of Tow Law’. This small change meant that the lads would no longer be able to picket at Inkerman as they had been because it was just over two miles away from Deerness, but NOT from Tow Law. The change caused uproar in the court and the magistrate adjourned the proceedings for 15 minutes so the lads could consult with their solicitor.

We held a mass meeting outside to decide what to do because six of the lads said they were going to refuse the new bail conditions. After a lot of debate and a warning from the solicitor that refusal meant prison, it was agreed we would all stand together. If one man went to prison then we would all go to prison. We piled into the courtroom to make our stand.

Frank Duffy from Murton Colliery was first up and he refused the conditions saying; ‘I can’t accept this. I’d rather be locked up!’ The female magistrate sentenced him to seven days on remand in Durham prison and he was taken down to huge applause from the pickets. He was closely followed by five others, including Keith Smoult and John Humble from Westoe. Unfortunately the six other lads lacked the courage of their convictions and accepted the new conditions. One of these was a Lodge committee man from Westoe who said he was ‘more valuable on the outside’.That’s a bloody laugh! Another Westoe lad, Steve Oliver, tried to refuse but the magistrate told him that his bail was unconditional so he had nothing to refuse.This gave us all a laugh and a bit of light relief. After that the rot set in and man after man accepted the bail conditions. I was determined to stick to my principles and go to jail in the hope it would get the planned protest back on track.

My name was called and I stood in front of the magistrate and was charged with Obstruction of the Highway with exactly the same bail conditions I’d previously accepted. My response was to say;’ I refuse to accept these conditions on the grounds that they are an infringement on my civil liberties and are a block on my ability to travel at will in a free country’. This was met with loud cheers of encouragement from the lads but pissed off the magistrate who threatened to have the court cleared. She advised me to reconsider my decision and consult with my solicitor. I refused her advice and she said she had no alternative but to remand me in custody for seven days. I was led down with my arm raised and my fist clenched to huge cheers from the pickets.

There were dozens of police beneath the court, obviously expecting trouble. I was searched and relieved of my few possessions then put into a cell with the six lads already sent down. They asked where everyone else was and I had to tell them it looked as if our protest was going to flop. We sat in the cell and expressed our anger and frustration at the empty words of our mates. Only one more lad had the guts to join us and he said there would be no more because the court had been cleared. He also told us that one of the most voiciferous supporter of mass action, a Wearmouth picket called Bob Robson, had phoned Tyne Tees Television and told them to come down and get a scoop. He also excused himself from the protest because he has a wife and two kids. That really pissed us all off because we have families as well but we’d all agreed to make a stand. If everyone had done what they said they’d do I doubt Durham could’ve coped with us all. We’ll never know.

Our solicitor came down and begged us to reverse our decision but we all refused and told him he was useless. He left in a huff and the next to try was one of the Durham Area Executive. He said he could understand the first six lads because their bail conditions had changed but me and the other lad were just being stupid. Frank Duffy said it was a pity the other 60 lads hadn’t been as stupid and we could have won a victory. Unity is strength. He also left and we settled down to wait.

We were all handcuffed and put into one of those long vans with individual cells inside. I looked out of the window and began to slightly regret my decision as I looked at people outside going about their business. I felt like I was starting a life sentence not a mere 7 days on remand, but there again I’ve never even visited a prison let alone been sent to one!

Inside Durham Prison we were strip searched and had to stand astride two benches whilst they shone a torch up my arse. It was totally humiliating. Then we were led inside to a reception area where we were questioned individually. I had perked up a bit and when asked my name I shouted ‘Strike’ defiantly, causing the prison officer to smirk. I gave my religion as Buddhist in an attempt at humour. It made Keith Smoult laugh. The warder wasn’t amused and said;’We’ll soon put an end to your piss taking son’. That shut me up, even more when he asked my occupation and I answered ‘coal miner’. He replied,’ Ex coal miner lad.Your Her Majesties prisoner now’!

We were put into a windowless room with a bench running along a wall which was covered with rules and regulations. I was reading them when my name was called again and I was led into another room. Another warder came in and told me I was being released and made me sign for my possessions. I asked him what was going on but he told me to stop moaning because there were hundreds of men inside who would love to be in my shoes.

I was taken into an office where a woman handed me a bail form to sign. I refused and asked to see my solicitor. I asked why I was being released and she said she didn’t know and told me to sign the form. I refused again and asked to see my solicitor. She got angry then and said I could see one when I got out. I felt very guilty that I was letting the other lads down but signed anyway. I was let outside into the bright sunshine with £1.64p, presumably my bus fare. I walked up the hill to Red Hills, the Durham Area offices and was shown into Jimmy Inskips office. Jimmy is an ex Westoe man and he got a shock when he saw me and asked if I’d escaped. I told him I’d no idea why I’d been released. he rang the lawyers but they didn’t know either but said they’d investigate. Jimmy gave me £3 for my bus fare home.

Kath was very upset when I got home and said she’s going to have a nervous breakdown with all the stress of worrying about me and doing her job. I tried to reassure her by saying the strike will soon be over. Trouble is I don’t believe it because there are no signs saying that. What a bastard of a day!!!

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!!!

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.

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.

37. Thursday May 3rd, 1984.

 

Tonto Jackson was arrested this morning for having the misfortune to be standing too close to a lorry which had its windscreen smashed. The pigs just grabbed him because he was the nearest person to the crime. He’s been charged with using ‘foul and abusive language’ because he swore when the pigs roughly grabbed him.

After Tonto’s arrest we tried a new tactic, walking in front of the scab lorries at a snails pace, linking arms so the pigs couldn’t arrest us easily. It worked brilliantly but despite us shouting for more men, not enough of us were prepared to take part. The pigs charged into us and tried to break our ranks, and even though we put up a brave struggle we couldn’t stop them achieving their aim. I was linked in with Arthur Oxley from Vane Tempest Colliery. I know Arthur from Broad Left meetings and you couldn’t pick a better man to be standing next to in a fight because he’s well over six foot tall with a build to match. He was my saviour this morning because he refused to let go of me as I was dragged to the side of the road. The look on the young pigs face when he realised he was on his own with us was a real picture. Arthur said, ‘What are you going to do now son because you can’t arrest us both?’ He took the wise decision to let us go and beat a hasty retreat. The battle was over but the war isn’t won and I’m pretty certain the two of us will have to be on our guard from now on.

The pigs made 10 arrests this morning and the mood of the men seems to be getting more militant, thank god. The Westoe men are getting really wound up by the lads we’ve had arrested. The pies arrived a bit late because of Tonto’s arrest, and this has really done the trick in terms of ending Westoe passivity. You have to laugh.

Kath is very worried I am going to be arrested after I told her about this mornings events. I’ve told her not to worry because even if I am arrested I’ll only get fined. She remains unconvinced that what we are doing is lawful and this has caused even more friction between us. I feel she is allowing herself to be influenced by the media who seem to be engaged in a daily propaganda campaign against the NUM, and Arthur Scargill in particular. I feel she is coming round to our side but at the moment she still needs to be convinced we can win. We can win if we can convince the rest of the trade union movement of the justice of our fight. If only they would black coal and refuse to use imported oil. If only the scabs would see sense and that their jobs are at risk as well. If only NACODS would join us we would be guaranteed victory. It’s been 8 weeks and no sign of an end in sight so Tony Cliff has been proved right so far. This isn’t ’72 and ’74, mores the pity. Anyway, attitudes on the picket line seem to be hardening and Westoe has gained quite a few new pickets but we still need a lot more!

1. Pre – strike.

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Saturday March 10th,1984.

This morning I attended a packed out meeting in Sunderland which was addressed by NUM President, Arthur Scargill. Predictably he started by making lots of uncomplimentary comments about Ian McGregor, the governments ‘hatchet man’, and warned that it is now or never as far as fighting the threat of pit closures. He urged us to come out now in support of men in Yorkshire and Scotland who are already out to fight the plans to close 5 pits immediately, with another 65 to follow if we don’t stand up. He made it sound like Custers Last Stand but I still agree with his views. Rhetoric is his forte, and because I’ve heard him speak quite a bit these last two years, he does tend to sound repetitive.

   One point of criticism I would make is that he attacked the ‘leeches of the capitalist media!’ If he hates them so much why doesn’t he ban them from meetings? I suspect this is because his ego enjoys the attention but that doesn’t take away from the fact that he’s the best union leader around. He’s right when he says that pits are being deliberately starved of investment and fobbed off with second hand machinery. It’s happening at my pit, Westoe Colliery, South Shields, where £3m was lost last year despite producing over  a million tons of coal.

   Anyway, he ended with, ‘Get off your knees and fight like men to save your jobs and communities’! He got a tremendous ovation from the packed hall, and if that is anything to go by then we’ll vote for strike at our lodge meeting tomorrow morning at 11am. I will, of course, vote for strike. How could I do anything else with a surname like mine!