Pride in London 2014
Jun 30, 2014 14:16:53 GMT
Post by patricklondon on Jun 30, 2014 14:16:53 GMT
This is the kind of event one is so used to being a spectator at that I thought it might be worth showing from the participant's point of view. I haven't actually been on the march/parade/procession for decades: then the reaction round about was mostly a combination of mild curiosity or studied indifference, but now it's a huge event with a great deal of organisations putting in their corporate support, from the armed forces downwards (or upwards, depending on your point of view). I turned out with an organisation I've being doing some volunteering for, to help carry the banner, dish out some leaflets and (we hoped) recruit some more supporters and volunteers.
So big is the event now that we were asked to be at the assembly point a good hour and a half before the procession started, all lined up at our appointed position: which meant, of course, that if you're involved you don't actually see the full diversity of people and groups taking part, only those round about you. Near us a dance group were trying out a few steps:
watches were being checked:
and you may not be surprised to hear that the gay builders had started the day with a sit-down (and no doubt a cup of tea):
Naturally, people were drifting around while they waited, taking photos of the more photogenic costumes around:
Our immediate neighbours included Philippino, Polish and Turkish contingents:
as well as the occasional, well, indefinable category:
While we waited, we had some discussion about whether it was really practical to think of walking the distance in these shoes:
All this while, the various music floats had been keeping up the party atmosphere - and then the heavens opened; the heavier it got, the louder the whoops and whistles (and when it stopped and the sun made a brief appearance, even louder still).
Eventually, long after the head of the procession would have moved off, our turn came, and as we turned into Oxford St, it was clear why it had all taken so long - the procession filled the street as far as the eye could see:
Through the intermittent drizzle you could see that some spectators had rather different ideas about weather-appropriate clothing:
but all seemed welcoming:
My organisation had got a share in one of the corporate groups' buses:
but as we neared the end, it acquired some extra passengers who'd found out why they're called killer heels:
Perhaps inevitably, dispersing at the end, in a side turning off Whitehall, seemed a bit of an anti-climax. But the feathery-costumed Philippinos had made it, still apparently unbedraggled:
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"too literate to be spam"
So big is the event now that we were asked to be at the assembly point a good hour and a half before the procession started, all lined up at our appointed position: which meant, of course, that if you're involved you don't actually see the full diversity of people and groups taking part, only those round about you. Near us a dance group were trying out a few steps:
watches were being checked:
and you may not be surprised to hear that the gay builders had started the day with a sit-down (and no doubt a cup of tea):
Naturally, people were drifting around while they waited, taking photos of the more photogenic costumes around:
Our immediate neighbours included Philippino, Polish and Turkish contingents:
as well as the occasional, well, indefinable category:
While we waited, we had some discussion about whether it was really practical to think of walking the distance in these shoes:
All this while, the various music floats had been keeping up the party atmosphere - and then the heavens opened; the heavier it got, the louder the whoops and whistles (and when it stopped and the sun made a brief appearance, even louder still).
Eventually, long after the head of the procession would have moved off, our turn came, and as we turned into Oxford St, it was clear why it had all taken so long - the procession filled the street as far as the eye could see:
Through the intermittent drizzle you could see that some spectators had rather different ideas about weather-appropriate clothing:
but all seemed welcoming:
My organisation had got a share in one of the corporate groups' buses:
but as we neared the end, it acquired some extra passengers who'd found out why they're called killer heels:
Perhaps inevitably, dispersing at the end, in a side turning off Whitehall, seemed a bit of an anti-climax. But the feathery-costumed Philippinos had made it, still apparently unbedraggled:
My blog | My photos | My video clips
"too literate to be spam"