There are still people left over from my childhood, people who knew both of my parents. One of them lives near Brighton, the daughter of my dad’s best friend. Her father obsessively collected and raced vintage cars. Dad shared some of them. I once got driven from Yorkshire to Silverstone in their 1920’s racing Bentley. Sadly they all got flogged without my knowledge when he lost track of himself with Alzheimer’s. I had always wanted to try and drive the thing to Sydney – they did that but only got as far as Bombay.
His daughter and I have reconnected recently, largely through the death of an old friend. In contrast to our parents, she has got very involved with Extinction Rebellion. It’s a necessary voice at the moment, so even if I’m not going to be gluing myself to anything in the near future, I wanted to see her piece of street theatre today in Brighton. They call themselves The Crude Oil Mechanicals. Many years ago I did street theatre for kids with an angle about Peak Oil running out, so I was curious to see how they use a performative voice to get their message across.
It’s rough and ready, very much on the nose, but they aren’t theatre makers. I learnt something, which I think was the point. In a crowded shopping centre we stood and watched and learnt that, of course, if we can’t stop the oil industry directly, perhaps we can shame insurance companies into refusing to insure them.
I sometimes feel jaded in these matters. I worry that nobody really wants to change, and certainly they don’t want to lead change. I worry we have gone too far already… With that in mind it is impressive to see her – very much not a performer – as she tries a theatrical message. Outside there were loads of drummers and that was joyful. Protest can take many forms. I’m glad I caught it.
AlBarclay 