Heavy Keepering

The season has begun and the wildlife is starting to get nervous. Out in the fields of East Anglia the partridge coveys stir uneasily at the sight of men in strange green clothes. On the steps of the cathedral the dreadlocked protesters stir uneasily at the sight of men in strange blue clothes. Both of these species have a very limited season and both worry that the sombre steadily strolling men might be armed and on a mission.

There’s a lot to be said for sport which can be enjoyed from the high-backed chair in air-conditioned comfort. Outside the protesters move around in a nervous flock, whilst a few traditional London bobbies (mostly of more advanced years, a few bearded, some female) stroll between them, smiling and relaxed. The protesters offer them organic biscuits, strange coffee, and free hugs.

But what I can also see from my chair is four police vans hidden in a back-alley, windows steamed up, but not enough to conceal dozing police in heavy jackets with night sticks stacked by the door. These police are young, clean shaven, and very male. Occasionally young officers appear loaded with Subways or Big Macs which are passed into the vans. With the boredom and the diet they must be spoiling for a fight.

In the sun it is warm and comfortable, both amid the tents and along the hedges. The quarry sit tight and hope the threat will pass and they can go back to feeding and yawning and squawking to each other.

But if I were a protester I would ignore the friendly coppers and worry about those hidden police vans in the alley, and if I were a partridge I would wonder about the departing keepers and worry about tomorrow’s convoy of Range Rovers in the lane...