The Next Station is Solidarity
I got up early and got the bus,
To join the ASLEF Picket Line,
At Gloucester, 30 July 2022:
It can be lonely when you’re on strike,
Active public support energises everyone.
We sat and stood at the bend of the main road,
Men, women and children together,
Some in official ASLEF picket tabards and arm bands,
Together with other drivers and members of the public.
A constant steam of rushing traffic,
Horns sounding in rousing and welcome support,
And not one shout of opposition from an open window.
Not one finger raised or two fingers waved.
Coffee, tea, cake, fruit and soft drinks were shared,
A supporter turned up on his mobility scooter:
‘Make way, make way.’
‘You’ve got the wrong gauge, mate.’
Cheerful laughter under the humid sky.
Then silence.
Horns hooted.
Thumbs were raised.
I read a poem about being on strike.
I was filmed to polite applause,
With my billycan sitting proudly on a chair,
A memento of days long gone.
Days long gone but now returned.
I collected souvenirs,
For I am building up a museum of memories,
A cabinet of curiosities,
From all of the picket lines that I visit
In this so-called Summer of Discontent.
But with Liz Truss pledging to illegalize
Industrial action unless merely symbolic,
I might be collecting souvenirs
All the way up to a general strike.
If only she could come and talk and listen
To the drivers I met today in Gloucester …
The she too would discover what I know:
It was a pleasure, an honour and a duty
To spend time with you all on the picket line.
For we are all on the right main line:
The signal is green and the points are ready:
The next station is Solidarity.
