28 days later

We were in court at ten-thirty.

Morris slept the night in Ben’s room and was up early, waking us all and marshalling us to clear the black plastic bags full of rubbish which choked the front garden. We donned suits, and in some cases ties (even Alex was forced into a suit) and walked the few hundred yards to Michael Street and the Court House.

We were in a very jocular mood, joking and shouting our way past Oculus Bancorp. Mo and Mandy (Gav’s girlfriend) came with us; Keith Perry of the Watermouth Housing Association was there, as were a couple of councilors and even a local resident. On Monday evening Lee and I had delivered 55 copies of the WHA's letter to Oculus round the neighbourhood.

Inside the court we stood around confusedly for a few minutes before we filed in and sat at the back of the courtroom while the absurd legal conventions were pursued to their bitter end. We were spectators at our own court case, and Morris, who sat in front of us, looked round angrily every time someone laughed or spoke. The case was heard, and my affidavit with attached letters from the council and churchmen was read by the judge. Oculus wanted us out in two weeks but the barrister and Morris agreed that if they gave us twice that length of time to leave then we’d vacate the Vicarage without them having to call in the bailiffs.

We’d expected more than this, but the judge gave us twenty eight days to leave—until June 7th.

Morris clearly thought this a victory and forced us across the road for a ‘celebration’ drink. Alex was bitterly disappointed and constantly argued with Morris and picked him up on petty points. Why had he misled us? All his “we’ve got em now,” “they don’t know what’s hit them,” and “they’re reeling under the pressure” etc.—and all we get is twenty eight days! “It’s looking good” he’d told me, clenched fist raised to salute impending victory, so we’d at least expected a climb-down, or a sale of building.

So we felt angry with Morris—after all, to him this whole business is nothing but publicity for the WHA, while to us it’s the difference between having a place to live and not. He sees twenty eight days as a major climb-down and concession by Oculus, a recognition by them of the respectability of the squatting movement. No doubt it is, but we don’t care about that. All we want is somewhere to live, and while Morris tries to hitch us to his causes and publicity campaigns we feel growing resentment. He now wants us to hold a garden fete for local residents and to invite Oculus along to embarrass them.

Does he honestly think that they’ll care? Well, he can forget about any more active support from us for his cause.