The sun had returned to the Brighton streets – amongst other things – and I wasn’t dressed appropriately for a protest. Wielding my laptop and a water bottle so large it could weigh down a small hot air balloon – I was on the way to join the counter demonstration at Saturday’s Carnival Against Fascism. As part of a small crowd that had inadvertently gathered under the train station underpass, I had a unique vantage point. I had made it to the …
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