Two Sides of the Same Street

On 16 May 2026, two very different versions of Britain took to the streets of London. I walked between them.

London on a grey Saturday has a particular energy. The streets fill early, the coffee shops run out of tables, and the city hums along in its usual organised chaos. But on 16 May 2026, there was something extra in the air — two separate marches, heading in different directions, each convinced they were speaking for the soul of the country.

I spent the day moving between both. Camera up, opinions mostly down. What I found was more complicated, and more human, than either side's loudest voices would suggest.

Nakba 78.

The Pro Palestine March, was a United front against Tommy Robinson & the far right. This had its own kind of plural — anti-racism groups, Palestine solidarity marchers, trade unionists, and a handful of people who looked like they'd wandered in from towns and cities across the UK (Bristol, Portsmouth was evident in Trade Union flags and I also met a photography Student from Barnseley. The energy was different: less of a march, more of a gathering, with people stopping to talk, to take photos, to debate gently amongst themselves.

The signs here were varied. Some were polished and printed; others were handwritten on cardboard, the ink slightly smeared from the morning drizzle. A woman smiled at me holding a "Stop Gaza Genocide" sign in one hand and an "All Colors Are Beautiful" placard in the other — two very different registers of message, held by the same pair of hands, which felt like an accurate summary of the whole afternoon.

One moment stayed with me: two elderly people sitting quietly amid the noise — a Holocaust survivor with a thumbs-up and a calm smile, a woman beside him describing herself as a survivor's daughter. They weren't performing anything. They were just there, making their point in the most understated way possible.

Flags, Flags, Everywhere

The Unite the Kingdom march was different. Union flags as far as you could see, filling The Strand from kerb to kerb. There was genuine energy here — people who were in attendance were locked like they hadn't been to a demonstration in decades, younger faces chanting alongside grandmothers draped in flags. Whatever you think of the politics, the turnout was real.

The mood ranged from festive to furious depending on where you stood. Near the front, people were singing. Further back, the signs got harder — some were the standard fare of any political march, slogans about sovereignty and borders; others veered somewhere darker. That's the honest picture: a crowd is never one thing, and this one wasn't either.

One image I kept coming back to: a man raising a wooden cross in one hand and a Union flag in the other, marching with real conviction.

Meanwhile, London Carried On

Here's the thing about London: it doesn't stop for its own arguments. Between the two marches, on the side streets and quieter stretches of pavement, the city was just getting on with it. A woman wrestled a pair of rose-gold number balloons around a corner, heading to someone's birthday. Two men in England flags squinted at a tourist map outside a hop-on hop-off bus stand. A photographer sat on a kerb outside a café editing on his laptop while a queue formed behind him.

There was something grounding about that. The city has seen a lot of Saturdays like this one, and it will see more. The arguments change shape but they don't really change — who belongs, who gets to say so, whose version of Britain is the real one. And through all of it, London keeps absorbing, keeps changing, keeps being more complicated than any single march can capture.

The idea that London would be better off, more itself, by removing the people who have spent their lives building it is a harder argument to make when you're actually standing in the middle of it. This city has been shaped by wave after wave of people arriving from elsewhere, each generation initially viewed with suspicion, each eventually becoming the city itself. The cafés, the music, the NHS wards, the buses — that's all London too, and it didn't come from nowhere.

That doesn't mean there aren't real and complicated questions to have about immigration policy, community change, or what national identity means in 2026. There are. But those conversations happen in committee rooms and local council meetings and family kitchens — not really on the street, where the loudest voices tend to drown out the nuance on both sides.

I don't have a tidy conclusion to offer. These photographs are not an argument so much as a record — of a day, a city, a conversation that's been going on for a very long time and isn't close to finished. I hope they're worth sitting with.

Until next time, keep snapping.

Tons of Folks, AKA Folkestone

Had a lovely start to the weekend yesterday, up nice and early at 07:00 having a lovely morning coffee and editing photos, giving the website a minor refresh adding some new products to the store.

My daughter - having surpassed my expectations in approach and preparation to her GCSE’s - is starting her summer holiday, with a camping trip to wales, with her friends.

We decided to jump in the car and head over to Folkestone, for a dad / daughter day, photowalk, shoppping and some seafood at in the harbour.

Folkestone is a little gem of a spot and somewhere, with its charming harbor and vibrant streets, is the perfect destination for a day trip.

Both my kids are audiophiles, where my sons tastes are as broad I as have known, but my daughter possibly takes the edge, with her lust for live performance and festivals. I was given a sample of Declan McKenna and ‘Brazil’. This is a protest song, regarding the awarding of the 2014 World Cup to Brazil.

Ok granted, a fine tune.

Not only does my daughter and I share a (very) similar music taste and political stance, I considered my counter, the lure of Billy Bragg was to obvious, so I countered with Flag Day, the 1985 debut of The Housemartins. I loved this band was I was younger, never thought the bass player - Norman Cook - would go far?

Folkestone's harbor buzzed with activity. We opted for a seafood lunch, savoring fresh fish and chips while watching bobbing boats and colorful lifebuoys. Refueled and ready to explore, we ventured into the heart of the town.

Folkestone is a haven for independent shops. We browsed unique boutiques, stopping to admire everything from handcrafted jewelry to vintage clothing. My daughter, a budding fashionista, found a one-of-a-kind dress that she absolutely loved.

By the end of the day, we were both happy and exhausted and our arms laden with shopping bags. Folkestone's delightful blend of seaside charm, fresh flavors, and quirky shops makes it a perfect destination for a memorable Dad / daughter outing.

Half term

Well that was a much needed half term break, which got a bit lively on Friday with Storm Eunice hitting the British Isles.

The year thus far at work has been breakneck, so having the past week off, has been a much needed downing of work tools (laptop and mobile) and a lifting of play tools (cameras).

No grand plans, as these are due in April with (fingers very crossed), a European city break with the kids.

But the kids and I popped up to London for a day trip, the kids love the big smoke. They are also avid exhibition / culture vultures, which is lovely.

We went to see the America in Crisis exhibition, at the Saatchi Gallery. £5 general admission, is very reasonably priced for 3 exhibition rooms, with images ranging from the 1960’s civil rights movement, to the storming of Capitol Hill in 2021 and much in between. I can't recommend it enough.

The effects of Eunice resulted in another exhibition being cancelled at the 11th hour, which was a little disapponting. Our walk around our usual haunts (Soho, Wardour Street, Covent Garden, Seven Dials), was hindered by the high winds and cold, but we were about to have a limited meander, which resulted in a couple of keepers.

Next up was the highlight of the day, the kids first gig at Brixton Academy, seeing The Kooks. This was one for my daughter, shes obsessed with them ATM. Its something very sacred and special sharing a mutual like for music, I had a great time sharing this experience with them. I will definately be arrangng more soirees into live music this year, as an antidote to the pandemic. We also have the Red Hot Chili Peppers in London in June 2022, who are hopefully being supported by Thundercat.

Also camera wise, the past week saw me give the medium and large format cameras a workout.

I know it's clichéd that film slows you down and it's more about the entire process, rather than firing off images, but it really is.

Finally, I had a couple of queries from two of my followers on Instagram, one asking for some tips to get into film and the other querying my process on pushing fomapan 400 to 1600.

The former was quite revealing, I dug out an email I had sent to someone else a couple of years ago. I was genuinely shocked how prices of cameras, film and assorted paraphernalia have increased, we are a sacred group film photographers.

The latter was a lovely exchange with a pro photographer, when we shared our workflows, whilst wildly different, the output had the same goal / objective.

THats me for another month, until next time, keep snapping.