Sunday, 27 September 2009
the visuals - travelling from Bristol to Exeter...
funny little Cullompton - check out the earlier blog for details.
fire-side Millie.
Oh Wondrous Helen - with us for our only rainy days this month...
Well on our way into the West Country!
Elly with our newest gift: an Edwardian megaphone - perfect!
The Great Climate Rush Wall - see it NOW on Jamaica Street.
heading through Bristol, whilst climate rush graff it up and clog up town on bikes.
sun setting on the industrial estates outside Bristol.
our campsite, just outside Bristol, was visited by Irish gypsies - cute cute kid who totally refused to smile.
first time I realised quite how far we'd gone - a motorway bridge on our way into Bristol. and we've walked way over the 121 miles they record cause boy have we taken the long, windy road..
this is the Severn Bridge as we begin our slow approach to Bristol
high carbon method of transport - but gawd dammit - so so stylish...
tension in the camp, time for Tamsin and Brad to fight it out...
Saturday, 26 September 2009
how to make a vegan omelette
There's a phrase about omelettes and eggs. Well, in the omelette of stopping catastrophic runaway climate change through taking direct action that pushes the boundaries of the law, the biggest eggs we’ve ever broken have turned out to be the Jeremy Clarkson fanbase. It’s odd because Clarkson himself seems to have taken the whole thing rather well, but the torrent of abuse has been really quite remarkable. Firstly, there’s just been soooo much of it. There’ve been emails, facebook messages, posts on Climate Rush’s profile and group walls, messages to Tamsin’s personal facebook account and texts and voicemails on my phone. And secondly, it’s been really, freakily similar in tone and content, almost as if there was an organised group out to discredit climate change and demoralise those who are fighting to curb emissions. I wonder…
My first experience of it was two voicemail messages left on the afternoon of the action, both by the same drunken Manchunian. ‘Climate Rush my balls you silly slags’ he slurred, and then, a couple of hours later: ‘You goddamn stupid fucking halfwits. I’m going out for a drive in my big powerful [indistinct] powered car now, hope to see you!’ In the early hours of the next morning, someone decided it was worth their while to text ‘Hey you clowns, man made climate change is NOT proven, read heaven and earth by Ian Plimer!!!!!!! Txt back.’ At least this guy had the decency to leave a return number.
The next day I finally managed to get online and sample the delights that had been left for us there. There were plenty of ‘man-made global warming is a myth’ ones, quite a few that promised to emit more CO2 to spite us, and almost always a hint of misogyny. Julian Tighe had written to suggest we ‘stop this nonsense and maybe return to your caravans and do a bit of ironing.’ Sam Richardson kept it short and sour with ‘HIPPIE SCUM’. Chris Hunt mixed his messages, saying we’re ‘yet another bunch of tree hugging, dole claiming twats [that] has fallen for the corporate swindle of climate change... can’t you see it’s all about revenue raising and taxation by the back door.’ (Because corporations are so into raising taxes.) Tamsin was called a ‘tampax lesbian whore’ and told that just as ‘you like to dump shit on Clarkson’s property… we will dump hydrochloric acid on your ugly lesbian face’.We even got a message from one ‘David Cameron’, though I’m pretty certain that the leader of the Conservative party doesn’t use dave_cameron@hotmail.com as his primary email address.
Then the messages took a turn for the bizarre. Here is an edited version of a truly foul email from cripto@ecn.org:
‘go back to [expletive] Commie Russia where you belong [performing fellatio] &
[uh, another intimate thing] of the eternal whinging scabby cockroach maggot Jews
when we find you ,..we will kill you
…
there is more [faeces] spewed out of the nuclear bomb factories in maggot Israel each year,..but you [those who like to practice the sin of Onan] never go their [sic] to terrorize people
what about the millions of litres of aircraft fuel wasted by the USA, USSR & UK air-force in AWAC planes etc,...
keeping scumbag maggots like you safe from your Commie brothers in terror
eat [manure] fatso Jew [bottom] lickers’
Bugger. Here I was thinking that I was part of a Suffragette-inspired women-led eco-activist group, and suddenly it turns out we’re obese Russian Semitiphile rimming fetishists! This crisis of identity was only further confused by the article sent to us by a ‘peasant philosopher’ on the ‘rise of the Eco-Nazi’. Apparently the term ‘Nazi’ is appropriate in this context because of the little known fact that the Nazis were actually a left-wing socialist party. So while I thought I was fighting for a global solution to climate change to protect the world’s poor, actually I’m part of a nationalist cult! Though god knows what my final solution will look like, considering that I’m also a communist, Jewish gay gypo.
Another one arrived while I was checking the inbox, this one addressed to Caroline Lucas as well. She must get this sort of thing a lot. This one said that global warming is a hoax because it doesn’t meet the ‘Scientific Protocol’, and then, weirdly, turns into a sidelong advert for the Miracles DVD hosted by Bryant Gumbel. (It’s hard to tell if they’re dismissing it – if you’re so stupid that you believe in global warming then you’re probably stupid enough to believe in faith healings – or trying to find an audience for it.)
Logging in to the Climate Rush facebook account, I found a message alerting me to the latest entries on the group wall. Michael Chillcott had posted ‘CLARKSON IS A LEGEND!! I HOPE HE TAKES A SH*T IN YOUR FACE!!’ while Vishnu Nair exhorted ‘LET ALL THE SEVEN WITCHES WHO DUMPED MANURE ROT IN HELL...’, finishing with a curious ‘AMEN’. Oto (Latvia) went all out with such bad language I’ve replaced every ‘f’ and ‘c’ with ‘sh’.
“shuckin shunts not women. Women are to be respeshted, you are to be shucked in the ass on a street shorner and then thrown in the gutter. Shuck you shor shucking up Shlarkson's lawn and i'm gonna go buy another V10 engined super polluting car to shuck up the environment more to spite your PMS behavior. Also I'm gonna drive my M5 extra much and burn tires in order to waste resourshes and combust large volumes of shuel.”
Well.
I’m just not sure what they want from us. A reasoned discussion of the scientific evidence for and against man-made climate change? Affirmation that we are indeed hippy scum / Jewish butt-lickers / abhorrent un-women who should be dragged back to the kitchen? But where might that affirmation come from? GMminingcorp@aol.com solves the problem of whether or not I should try and formulate a reply by finishing his message with ‘don't bother replying to this e-mail, I'm not interested in anything you've got to say.’ Mostly I’ve ignored them, taking a sliver of pride in the fact that we’re clearly doing something right if we’re getting these sorts of people’s backs up. Some, I’m sure, are commercial astro-turfers, in the pay of some fuel-guzzling corporation or other, and their motivation (if insanely avaricious) is at least vaguely comprehensible. Others are presumably just web freaks who get their kicks from trawling the internet looking for people they disagree with to hassle; I guess I’m never really going to understand why they don’t have something more fulfilling to do with their lives. Overall though, if that’s the sum total of people who disagree with us, the outlook’s pretty good. In a population of 62 million, that’s 35 to them, 61, 999, 965 to us.
Friday, 25 September 2009
missing Bristol for the town that time forgot
Friday, 18 September 2009
Date with Dale
Dale and Tamsin - such mutual loving round the fire
Dale shows us his first wind turbine.
Vroooom Zoooooom!
Tamsin, Misty, Dale and sexy sexy mother of a car.
Thursday, 17 September 2009
anyone for manure? words and photos
So there’s been a fair amount of press over a wee idea we had not very long ago. It’s crazy what captures the nation’s media and the public imagination, and we just thought we were having a little joke – that we might just make it into one of Clarkson’s columns…
Along the epic journey from Stroud to Oxford (4 days on the road, blisters, aching muscles, two girls down with some form of ill) we began to wonder whether it might be time to start targeting all those nasty big-time carbon emitters. It’s true that since this roadshow begun we’ve circled Heathrow Airport and held a picnic at London Oxford Airport, but we haven’t Really done a funny and engaging action. So… we began to think – we can target high carbon infrastructure or we can target high carbon individuals. And if we’re targeting high carbon individuals then the people we want to draw attention to are those who promote carbon intensive lifestyles.
Enter Jeremy Clarkson… well a mate of mine saw him zooming between Stroud and Oxford so we thought he must live nearby. A few phone-calls later and it was confirmed, if we could find our way to a small village in Oxfordshire then perhaps we could make some headlines.
But how?! We’re a very peaceful group really. We didn’t want to do anything that would piss Jeremy off, especially as some of our members are big big fans of Mr controversy Clarkson. Yet we did want to make a point. Cause let’s face it, he says a lot of stupid things…
“But let’s just stop and think for a moment what the consequences might be. Switzerland loses its skiing resorts? The beach in Miami is washed away? North Carolina gets knocked over by a hurricane? Anything bothering you yet?”
Now I’m guessing that this is said with his tongue firmly in his cheek but some people, probably a lot of people, are going to take him at his word, and chuckle at his ‘give a shit’ attitude. Clarkson’s left some things off the list – the Great Barrier Reef collapsing, sea rises that wipe out entire cities, massive resource wars, no more Bangladesh, potentially the Amazon rainforest turning into a massive bonfire, and carbon emitter. These things bother me. I don’t want to live in a world where the richest nations say ‘fuck you – I like my quality of life’, whilst the poorest, those least responsible for climate change, go to war. It’s difficult. Like Jeremy I like my liberty. I just know that a future of climactic collapse is probably not a future where civil liberties will reign high. I guess the big question with freedom is how much value does it hold if it relies on others' enslavement?
Anyhow. We didn’t want to be mean. We just wanted to give him something to think about. As we were mulling this over behind the horse and cart, Blossom, our youngest mare, lifted up her tail and out dropped eight balls of manure. We watched each one drop and a plan began to form.
For our horse drawn climate roadshow the main emission is what our horses are laying on the road. It would be a cool comment on Jeremy’s approach to his emissions if we were able to dump ours on his lawn and at the same time give him free fertiliser!
With hands gloved we began bagging the manure. As we bagged we hummed a tune, finally adding words and singing…
THE JEREMY POO SONG
I’m picking up poo, poo for you, Jeremy,
What a thing to do!
I’m picking up doo doo
To tell you Jeremy,
Cut your CO2
I might be only driving 3 HorsePower
And my top speed trot is only 12 miles per hour
But the oil is running out and fast
And my engine just runs on grass
So what you gonna guzzle in all them cars
If you think it’s not a problem then I think
You’re talking out of your arse.
I’m picking up poo, poo for you, Jeremy,
What a thing to do!
I’m picking up doo doo
To tell you Jeremy,
Cut your CO2
You don’t give a toss about your emissions
And you took a big truck on an arctic expedition
But the footprint of your little spin
Was one point seven tonnes of carbon sin
And it’s nothing to the damage black carbon can bring
So we thought we’d dump a taster
Of the shit we know you’re landing us in!
I’m picking up poo, poo for you, Jeremy,
What a thing to do!
I’m picking up doo doo
To tell you Jeremy,
Cut your CO2
Eventually (and after pinching more poo from a nearby field) we had enough – a whole lotta poo. Then came the organising of a chip-fat fuelled van. Three calls and it was done. All we had to do now was wait by the roadside for our carbon-free lift.
When we arrived the press where already snapping. We walked up to the wrought-iron gates of Clarkson’s home, hitching up our Suffragette skirts so that we might just walk in, but no such adventure – instead the gates just opened ahead of us. Thank God for motion detectors. The photographers were scared of being arrested for trespass so stayed firmly outside the compound’s gates. We dumped six bin-bags full of poo before sticking out banner in it ‘This is what you’re landing us in’, and singing our song to the film crews.
Two of Jeremy’s staff walked past but said nothing as we approached his house. But there was no-one at home, so we left him a little pile more before heading off home. In the bus back our song rang jubilant, especially when we passed the daily mail photographer who’d been pulled over by the police. We zoomed past unnoticed.
And then the reaction… a tonne of press – more than we got for rushing Parliament with over 1000 women, staging a sit-in at Heathrow Airport with over 600 Edwardian picnickers or supergluing ourselves around a statue in Parliament. It can be strange to see what gets people talking – I guess there really is nothing like a celebrity to stir up headlines. Which seems a bit of a pity when there’s such an important message to get out there, something that should be saturating all of the papers all of the time.
But thank you Jeremy for your jolly response. You can keep the patio heater – and good luck with the roses – we’ll have plenty more manure from the final two weeks of the journey if you need it.
My bag's bigger than yours...
Anyone for some poo on ice?
POO JUMP
a small pile for his front lawn
and then they close again
As if my magic - open Sesame!
Wednesday, 16 September 2009
The road - 4 days worth - between Oxford and Stroud - photos
Mnyyummm - thank you kindly farmer. Delishusness.
This is about as blustery as the sky has got these past two weeks that we've been on the road. It's mental - where is the rain?! Nowhere near the Climate Rush that's for sure. Tamsin, our resident Christian (and wannabe evangelicising priest is freakin' us all out - she says that if it doesn't rain for the whole month (which would be a bit of a miracle - but shhhh) we ALL have to convert. And if it does?! Well she looks a little muddled at this point and mutters something about becoming an athiest. As if - she'll wiggle her way outta that.
Joie and Dash are either ill, or faking illness, and so are allowed to sit on high. Means that Joie gets all the good looks from passing cars - she is our Harvest Queen!
Gloucestershire - home of the hippy - receive us well!
And still more... Oh those Herbal Essence moments.
Even freakier...
Three handed Cordelia - freaky!
Joie de Winter with a cheeky smile...
Joie and Emma play hide and seek.
A friendly farmer lets us charge through his corn fields and pick some for our dinner.
Guess Fairfold is getting scared of climate collapse - check their sandbags against the river.
This town, Fairfold, is so utterly ON IT. Check out this sign outside their butchers.
This is so utterly mega beautiful. Lucky lucky us.
On our way out of Oxford we go over this toll bridge and are the only vehicle that aren't asked to pay - thank you Oxford County Council for the free passage!
Brad riding up high with Climate Rush flags waving in the wind.
Cordelia with one of the rescue horses. We shared the field with three horses. This one had been so neglected that its hooves had rotted through. After a year in a dark stable recovering she is now able to stand and run a bit, but will never be able to gallop with the others.
And this is how you use it - with leisure and the latest 'harvest' copy of Here Comes the Sun.
The compost loo at our Oxford site. One half for no.1s and the other side too.
Cordelia about to fall into the river that was at the foot of our Oxford camp - perfect for early morning swims and general chilled revelling.
Deborah in her pre-raphaelite 'Ophelia' pose. She does it So well!
Cadi is the flower girl. Pretty meadows all the way.
Cordelia and Fred (post arrest) horsing around
Oh most wondrous Nuala - lender of a field, giver of water and finest malt whisky.
Climate Rush girls dancing on police lines.
Climate Rush picnic / road blockade outside London Oxford Airport...
The Climate Suffragettes hold strong on a Sunday afternoon in Central Oxford.
Cordelia charms passers-by on Oxford's cornmarket
Ben joins the camp for a night and gets Well stuck in to wood whittling.