After a couple of minutes of milling around, the numbers had well and truly arrived, with our London Bridge contingent bringing the most.  For me this represents the truth, because it is financial crimes and our flawed system of capitalism which is behind every problem the world faces today. Wars are run purely for profit, companies emitting huge amount of carbon are run purely for profit, even poverty is due to the greed for profit of the elite few.

We had occupied the entire area outside the Bank of England, as well as the streets in the surrounding area. We were showing the fools at the top what time it was. The atmosphere was still completely peaceful, although the now hugely increased police presence did create a certain air of tension. For a start, I just don't trust those police photographers... I'm sure they're shooting a film entitled "Potential Terrorists".

The leaders of the marches, the four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, went to the very front of the central square area to play more music, make more noise, and send their message to the world. It was all in good spirit, but this wasn't simply a photo opportunity for the people who attended. This was a large group of intelligent, politically aware British citizens, who were not happy to sit back and watch as our world is ruined before our eyes. Everyone in that rally had a clear aim, to make a real difference, in a peaceful manner.

One by one, the four leaders of the marches began to filter through the crowd, supported by their bands and dancing horses, towards the left side of the square, where Threadneedle Street led towards the now infamous Royal Bank of Scotland. And the crowd followed. Everywhere we walked we could see positivity - people chalking anti-war slogans on the public walls, people with bikes, wheelchairs and even a wheely-bin converted into make-shift soundsystems... "festival" really was the apt descriptor for the colourful mix of sounds and sights in the normally so grey financial district.

By now the entire crowd of at least 20,000, as well as the thousands more who were still relaxing in the area behind us, were heading down Threadneedle Street to continue the peaceful protest. And this is where the drama started. For some reason, the police decided to create a line on this road and not let us continue any further. By this time, all other exits from the area had been blocked by police barricades. To try and convey how many people were crammed onto this street, me and my friends squeezed our way to about half way down, and literally could not progress any further.

To say the police were outnumbered would be a severe understatement, and because of this the cordon was broken over and over again as we marched on towards RBS, each time prompting a huge cheer from the masses as another few metres of our democratic liberties were preserved. We had actually got past the Royal Bank of Scotland when they bought in the riot police, and decided that the party would not continue. Through that single decision to blockade Threadneedle Street, and to "kettle" thousands and thousands of Londoners into an incredibly small area, the police were, in my view, responsible for  the violence that ensued.

After what seemed like an age, the people on the march were clearly getting frustrated; they were penned in with nowhere to go. Inevitably, this frustration eventually spilt over into the use of physical force, which the riot police were on hand to supress by beating protestors with shields and batons. Plastic bottles were thrown at RBS from the crowd, which again raised cheering on every occasion, but I would hardly call it lethal. As Martin put it, "I've seen a lot worse at a rock concert."

The anarchists, who somehow managed to get to the front line, numbering twenty at most (out of the tens of thousands in attendence), decided to take out their frustration at the bankers who have stolen billions of pounds of our money by attacking the windows of RBS. Instead of arresting this handful of troublemakers, and allowing the peaceful protest of thousands to continue, the riot police decided to exacarbate the situation by engaging in armed conflict with their anarchists.

As things calmed down, I looked at my watch and realised that I had another protest to go to - the Stop the War Coalition were busy assembling at the US Embassy across town.  We exited Threadneedle Street and went to the other end of Bank where hundreds of people were asking to leave, only to be completely ignored by the emotionless rows of riot police, but fortunately, "I've got a wheelchair so let me out now" did the trick. But for the others, the thousands... they were kept under siege for hours.

The police's brutality and negligence was painted across every front page the next morning, when it was reported that a peaceful protestor had died whilst trapped in a police cordon.

RIP Ian Tomlinson.

Words: Jody McIntyre, 18. Ctrl.Alt.Shift blogger on the frontline.
Photos: Louise Nindi, 17.