Blogging the G20 Climate Camp

Well, readers, here I am in an undisclosed location in the City of London, holding the pink, Camp-pink, mobile.

“Hello. Climate Camp. How can we englighten you today ?”

Sitting on a good wi-fi hotspot, pretending to do nothing in particular, fretting a bit as the big Police vans with cages roll by in convoys towards the financial district, where unhappy people, enraged by the bloodthirsty London Press, have taken it upon themselves to fulfill tabloid prophecy and storm the banks, calling themselves the G20 Meltdown.

All reports, pictures and communications from the G20 Climate Camp itself are so far cool, which is a good thing, as I hope to have supper there later, and join the Ceilidh in the City, hopefully spreading joy, love, hula hoops and Climate Science far and wide into the night.

The evening meditation between to 8.00pm promises to be very cool all across the Greater London spiritual zone, with candles and hearts lit up everywhere anybody cares about what is not happening in terms of sound Carbon policy. There will be Holy Communion with the Christian Anarchists, if the Climate Camp doesn’t get busted before nightfall, that is.

It’s a beautiful, sunny day full of sanity, only marred by people of violence. And so we sing the song “We don’t like, what you do, but all the same, we love you. We love you. We love you.”

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