A little while ago I was asked about the formative political voices of my youth. I defaulted to my usual response… the lyrics and music of CRASS, Conflict, Dead Kennedys and the associated artwork of Gee Vaucher and Winston Smith. The chat went sideways and  I mentioned the peace convoy and their assorted vehicular homes and the west country’s association with that community… and then it immediately brought to mind the memory of a retired academic (earth sciences) who seemingly lived in a beaten up old British Telecom box van (I only met him a few times at a local Somerset spot that was considered hot for ‘magic’ mushrooms). His name was Bill… he was the owner of a bonkers white beard, white curly hair and horrible jumpers and he was immensely welcoming to a young political naïf. This was over forty years ago and I doubt very much if he’s still available for comment but someone out there might know of him. To me, the van’s (and Bill’s) primary reason seemed to be the production and free distribution of A4 copies of environmental leaflets, all hand produced by Bill himself. There were carrier bags stacked under a handmade bed frame in the back of the van; all were marked with the title of the contents of the leaflets inside. These were all made with his trusty, and very beaten up, hand cranked spirit duplicator. In the early 1980s he introduced me to global warming, peak oil, the ozone hole, vegetarianism, The Ecology Party (later to become The Green Party) and the Ecology Magazine – copies of which he enthusiastically gave to me in exchange for roll-ups. Well… he was hardly in the peak of health four decades ago, so I’m sure I’ve missed the opportunity to personally thank him for his influence and inspiration.
Also there was a band photographer from Bath, a few years older than me, who obviously spotted someone looking lost amongst all the wannabe post-punk fashionistas of those same early 1980s. I always felt outside of this crowd as I lived in a nearby small town that, though only about ten miles away, might as well have been on the moon for all its associated cultural ‘cool’. As well as being a good friend (he could blag me into gigs in Bath venue ‘Moles’ when I didn’t have membership) he would stick copies of New Society under my nose… he might’ve also introduced me to Marxism Today and New Left Review… and I read it all. Thank you Nigel, I know that you’re still about.
And to the final point of this ramble… at about the same time as all these other influences I alsoI bumped into my first non-punk, non-hippy, seriously intellectually stimulating anarchist. His name was Roy Emery, I think he was probably in his late fifties at the time, he lived in a small town near me and could often be seen determinedly weaving through the town high street pulling his wheeled shopping bag. At the time this struck a lot of us younger ‘serious’ anarcho types as quite amusing. Nothing could’ve really said ‘not an anarchist’ more than someone pulling around a wheeled shopping bag…  Anyway, Roy introduced me to the theoretical side of anarchism. He also handed out magazines if they couldn’t be afforded. Direct Action, Class War, Black Flag, Freedom… the lot. He introduced me to the Bristol Anarchist Book Fair and he pointed me in the direction of a lot of reading material I’ve kept to this day. I would’ve liked to say a ‘thank you’ to Roy for his long lasting impact on my political and philosphical life, but it’s not to be. Sadly, the old bugger passed away a couple of years back. I missed the chance… procrastination… forgetfulness… always assuming there’ll be time…
That’s the point of this ramble. If there’s someone out there you know, that you owe a ‘thank you’ to, and you keep meaning to get around to it, then just get on with it and make it done. You might enjoy catching up with old times too.
And, as an asides… Roy’s wife is a painter. She had a serious impact on the direction my work took in the early 1990s too. I’ve spoken to her and said thank you. We’ll be keeping in contact. With the varied opportunities for communication nowadays there really is no excuse.

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