When Greta came to town

We had some serious poetting to do, so parked the car in Bishopston to avoid all the road closures and walked the last two miles of our journey to the Folk House. Which just goes to show that things automatically get greener when Greta Thunberg comes to town to march with Bristol Youth Strike 4 Climate.

Apart from College Green. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

The crowds were already gathering as we puffed up Park Street for the Last Friday poetry group. An hour later, during our break, a few of us popped outside to see legions of young people walking purposefully down the middle of the road. Because they could. 

As for College Green, there was no chance of getting anywhere near it, despite the heavy rain. 

Up in the Folk House music room we could hear the speeches, even if we couldn't pick out the words, but by the time we emerged at 1pm, there was no sign of the demonstrators, just an expanse of litter-free mud. 

We crossed an eerily quiet City Centre ...

... and remembering the traditional route for demonstrations through Bristol, walked up Corn Street to Wine Street, where we encountered the march, coming in the opposite direction.

 And there was Greta, in her Famous Yellow Raincoat. There. Just behind that bloke's head. 

There!

I confess I started snivelling at this point.  It's been hard since the general election to have no hope for the future, but that ended today. 






Walking back to the car, we decided that we could probably do this every Friday, and save the parking money, and get some exercise, and reduce our carbon footprint a fraction. In the absence of meaningful action from our governments, the smaller things have to do. For now.