Battle for Cable Street

Had the day off. No factory, just me and an appointment with the hair dresser a little walk away, which I needed because of my lack of exercise. A youngish Turkish bloke, who even put a hot towel round my face. Perhaps he thought it would change my appearance, but when he removed it, I was the same. Seems like plastic surgery is still going to be on the wish list. However, to make up for it he gelled my hair. I was then a handsome hunk but looking decidedly thin on top. But with hair. Not bald, but maybe a little thinner, yet still nearly handsome. I enjoyed the experience to say the least for the end result. I'll just have to wear my hat the next week or so, even indoors.

I met a friend on my way to the hair dressers and found myself passing time chatting. It must of been all of an hour later I pealed myself off and managed a walk to the hair dressers. His mother had cancer. She was in hospital and now it was only a matter of time. She had seen specialists in Harley Street and done everything to no avail. It seemed genetic because her two sisters had died of it as well and they were younger. I felt sorry for my friend, especially his daughter who I know was practically bought up by his mum. He also complained about his knee and getting old. Fortunately at this moment my hair wasn't shorter so I looked ok otherwise I'd of made my hair complaint. At least we both had our life.

The news today had an item about Cable Street, it had been 70 years since Mosley and his fascist black shirts had been prevented from having demonstrating down this road. It's an area in the East End of London at the time had a significant Jewish population. Mosley wanted to walk with his followers down this street and through the Jewish areas after his crowd had heard support from Hitler. The authorities proved to be an ass. They allowed the demonstration to go ahead, even though a 100,000 petition had been presented to the Secretary of State. The people of the East End, Jews and Communists decided it was not going to happen. I saw an interview on TV take place and an old man who was there. He said they had a young medical student passing messages to the Communists from the authorities, telling them what the police intended to do. This insider knowledge was pretty valuable I suspect. So Mosley had 5,000 blackshirts begin to walk, they were minded by 10,000 police officers. But Cable Street residents and anti fascist supporters numbered 350,000 needless to say the event did not take place. The man interviewed said police offices just gave up trying to get through the baraccaded road. Residents were throwing the effects of their chamber pots out of windows down on them. It must of been awful. Not something to go home to the Mrs to and ask for a good snog and a hug because work had been stressful. Poor police officers. A bloody nose was given to the fascists in central London from which they would not recover. I can't understand why the Secretary of State would allow the march to take place, this was 1936, when fascism and Nazism was a real threat to Europe (Spanish civil war). Politicians can be such asses.



I realised one thing fascists no doubt dislike nearly as much as minority groups, had got to be ice cream. Because there is no such thing as a black ice cream and white ice cream on a black shirt just wouldn't have the same image as all in black does. Oh yes, not forgetting dandruft, snow, confetti and the contents of chamber pots. I'm glad I'll never be a fascist, I like ice cream too much amongst other things.