Yesterday, I was on strike. I haven’t been on strike before. It wasn’t a decision I took easily but was a considered thought as a result of weighing up the action that I judged to be necessary. I’m glad I was striking and wanted to share some of my perceptions of the day.
I started out early as I had offered to join a picket line outside my place of work. It was a picket line staffed mostly by social workers with a CPN (Community Psychiatric Nurse) joining us. We had supplies of banners, leaflets and whistles to hand out to passers-by and those who were going to work.
We had resolved that, knowing the decisions we had each struggled to make, we would not be giving a ‘hard time’ to those who needed to go to work – whether union members or not – and indeed, we had people nipping out to offer us tea, coffee and biscuits during the morning. As for passers-by, they were very supportive save for one person who seemed to drive his car towards us at alarming speed and thought this constituted a ‘joke’. I suspect he regards Jeremy Clarkson as a role model.