Sing if you're glad you were there

30 years ago this month was the much celebrated Rock against Racism/Anti-Nazi League march through London, ending in the gig at Victoria Park in Hackney. There has been a bit of reminiscing about this and what amazes me the most is how much people remember. My own memories are hazy in the extreme.

I was a very politically conscious 15 year old at the time, into punk and left wing protest, although my involvement mainly consisted of intense, self-righteous debates with National Front sympathisers at school and in the kitchen at parties; raging at my fairly conservative, bemused, but also broadly sympathetic and tolerant parents; wearing badges and reading the right weekly papers.

I had seen Tom Robinson at the Gants Hill Odeon, but I hadn’t been able to go to any gigs in London until then. So, when the opportunity to do a bit of protesting and get to see some bands arose... well, I would have been mad to say no wouldn’t I? Some of the teachers from school were going, so I persuaded a couple of friends to come with me for the rally and gig in the park. I really can’t remember what I said to my parents, but I don’t remember any arguing about going. Maybe I just said I was going into London for the day with friends and some teachers - who knows? Whatever stratagems I used, I managed to arrange it and eventually we pitched up in plenty of time to meet up as a group beforehand. We had a lovely wander through London, bumping into other friends and various right-on teachers, did a bit of chanting and fist waving, particularly when we went past the ‘tools of oppression’ in Fleet Street, got a bit scared when we had to go past a rival NF march corralled back by the police, but generally had a great day out.

Victoria Park was huge and packed, so we settled ourselves down on the grass at the back, and lazed about. I should point out that I was too vain to wear my glasses when I was 15 and I could hardly even see where the stage was, so distinguishing anyone on it (even when it was Jimmy Pursey and The Clash) was far beyond me. In addition, the sound system was clearly inadequate to the task, so we made an effort to listen when we could (when the wind was blowing in the right direction), but none of this seemed to matter. We were young and in the right. And that was the point really.