I arrived at a snow-covered Castle Park slightly after 12pm. I saw two other people milling about looking lost, prodding their mobile phones and prepared for the worst. Luckily, we realised that the rest of the demonstrators were at the other side of the park in the bandstand, so off we went. In total their were about 30-40 people, making jolly small talk and trying to keep warm.

After about twenty minutes milling around, making placards and distributing leaflets (plus being checked out by three police, one of whom followed us around) we moved from the park towards Broadmead. First target:Vodafone. After less than three minutes outside the Broadmead Vodafone shope front, the shutters came down (job done!) so many of us members then walked across the precinct to Barclays Bank, avoiding hordes of Christmas shoppers and the extremelyloud brass band.

A few minutes spent chanting and trying to get into Barclays result in them only admitting 'non-protesters', but eventually they close the store entirely. Result! Those trying to get into Barclays are handed leaflets containing a series of bullet points listing Sir Phillip's crimes against UK taxpayers, whilst explaining the motive behind our protest. The more vocal of us began explaining ourselves through megaphones (the chief complaint being that Barclays have pulled a Sir Phillip of their own and are using off-shore tax havens to avoid paying to the UK).

The police then decided to question a non-violent-looking woman over the use of the word 'fuck' on her placard, which seemed to take them fifteen minutes and required three separate police officers. One non-protester who was boiling with rage tried to one of us to stop using a megaphone because he “couldn't here the brass band”. We laughed him away.

Finally, when the police had left us alone (relatively speaking) we headed on-mass to TopShop, to voice our anger at Sir Phillip's flagship Arcadia chain in Cabot Circus. The police, having finally worked out how to use twitter, had evidently tipped off TopShop as security guards were out in force stopping anyone getting in, much to the bewilderment of passing shoppers. Again the megaphones come out and the chants begin.

We soon find that one protester, who managed to get inside unfurl a banner in front of the mannequins, was now being questioned by police. After a while he was let go, but, having given them his name and address, informed us that if we stayed here and caused 'distress' to the workers, he would be arrested. This effectively meant we were blackmailed into leaving, but we had managed to close TopShop for a little while. Take home lesson: NEVER GIVE YOUR DETAILS TO THE POLICE.

Next stop: Dorothy Perkins, another of Sir Phillip's stores, around the corner. Much less security here; they locked the front doors before anyone could get in, so we had to make do with chanting. Oh, and being filmed by the police Forward Intelligence Team. Thanks, guys.

Myself and two other protesters decided to look for another way in, so we moved back through Cabot Circus, down some escalators (note to self: learn geography of the area PRIOR to the protest) and found the rear entrance. We wussed out of actually entering, so just gave out leaflets to the bemused shoppers who were being ferried through by the staff until they stopped coming out. Shop is entirely shut and everyone working there had seemingly been sent home.

Next up: BHS, Sir Phillips older-persons clothing emporium, slightly down the street. At first the security appear to be unaware of any demonstration and a few of us get inside and put up some propaganda on the windows. Then, the placard-wavers and leafleters arrive and the front doors are shut. No matter, someone mentions that there's a side door still open so a few of us go there instead. Quite a few protesters get in before being ejected by the rather hands-on security, which causes them to keep more of an eye on us, only letting in tired-looking shoppers and other “non-protesters” in. Then, myself and a few others get in, before being dragged out so they have to lock the doors. Job done! At least, for a bit, before pretty much everyone goes home, and we notice another Forward Intelligence Team filming us.

A few shoppers are angry at us disrupting their shopping. A few “fucking students” and “while don't you get a job” lines are shouted at us; ironic seeing as it's Saturday and the demographic of protesters ranges from school kids to OAPs (one of my friends immediately shouted back “I work forty-four hours a week so go fuck yourself” which got a few cheers).

Overall, a really fun day, with quite a bit of disruption caused to Vodafone and Sir Phillip's stores, and a lot of publicity for the cause in Bristol centre. Hopefully not too many shoppers hate us.

I’ve always felt strongly about politics, but never found an “in”, if you know what I mean. Despised Thatcherism with a passion I can barely spit out, hoped for great things from the Blair ‘Which?’ Project but was sorely disappointed (plus marks for disability work but absolute no-no on civil liberties and banking regulation). Nothing lived up to the hope of a decent government which died, sadly, with John Smith (may he rest in peace).

But now, at my advanced age and crepuscular with cynicism, I find dewy youthful pleasure in the response to the ideology driven, recession courting, shameless fat-bastard millionaire benefitting political games-playing of the ConDems. Taking part in the Bristol Ukuncut response on Saturday (which blossomed organically into a proactive alliance of several different groups) was the best antidote to grief (immediate personal and longterm political) I could have hoped for.

The UKuncuts gathered as suggested at the bandstand in Castle Park at 12md(ish). A neat reflection of the laid back and realistic attitude of the young anarchists who came along armed with megaphones courtesy of the animal rights activists and a load of printed leaflets the rest of us had failed to bring (mainly it has to be said because we neither owned printers nor had access to workplace copying facilities). We were 5 in number at midday when your friendly local policeman replete with high vis jacket, radio, antistab jacket, impressive handcuffs and baton sauntered by and said a cheery hello. We had grown to 30 when the slightly more uptight cops arrived (from the general direction of the police car equipped with cameras). An eclectic group – ranging in age from a babe in a pram to people even older than me – we chatted, cut up leaflets to hand out, enjoyed a few impromptu snowball fights, and generally had a nice chatty time. The lads led us off as a ragtag bunch at a time I had ceased to keep tabs on and we turned up nearly 50 strong to the pedestrianised area of Broadmead where happy shoppers were paying £5 for hot meat rolls, European stylie, and drinking mulled wine. We proceeded to close in quick succession Vodafone, BHS (less closed than majorly obstructed in all accuracy) and Barclays Bank. All at the same time! I would have loved a pop at Boots but they have too many entrances and exits so it wasn’t viable. As we stood, held up banners, chanted good humouredly and handed out leaflets telling people why we were there, our numbers swelled as other more organised souls with BOXES of proper folding leaflets (anti cuts) and trestle tables set up shop. In fact we ran out of our small supply early on and happily hooked up with them and shared their leaflet manna from heaven, handing them out instead. I really enjoyed the walking backwards, smiling, “can I give you this to explain why we are here?”, “you pay your taxes, they don’t pay theirs”, “if they paid their tax there would be no cuts” and remembered doing a Tupperware recruiting drive on the same spot 25 years before. Like riding a bike, it all comes back and I’m glad I put those hard-won skills to better use.

Then word went out that there was something going down round the corner at Topshop and a few of us peeled off to go and join in. Topshop is on the edge of the newly developed Cabot Circus which is a new high end development (Harvey Nicks, Carluccio’s, The White Shop, blah blah) and politically very different territory. Because it’s “privately owned land”. One of the lads had been arrested for placing a paper banner against the doors of said Topshop and had been swiped by the security team (which was far more extensive than anything we had seen in the plebeian environs of Broadmead) and accused of criminal damage. I frankly laughed out loud, asking all the questions that made it abundantly clear he’d done nothing of the sort! The crowd outside Topshop became very vociferous, calling for his release, using the megaphones to ensure that security knew precisely what did and did not constitute criminal damage and what did constitute unlawful deprivation of liberty. The banners that came out were amazing – “Bristol feminists are coming to cut off your bonuses” was my personal favourite. I watched in awe as a lovely graphic art student produced by hand on a cereal box “TopShop Tax Dodger” in the most legible, perfect script imaginable. Give that girl a degree!

I had a lovely exchange with a quite aggressive, incredibly buff guy, a bit younger than me, who wanted to know why we hadn’t protested under Labour. I pointed out that the £6bn unpaid Vodafone tax bill which, for me, was the catalyst to active protest, had only come to light under the ConDems and that more stuff was coming out all the time which even I, cynic that I am, was shocked by. He lightened up a bit when my answer to “where do you work” was “I’m unemployed” followed by “I keep being told at interview I’m too highly qualified for the jobs that are around” and he almost came on side when answering the question “do you send your wife to live in Monaco so you can avoid paying any tax whatever?”. “No – I see your point”. Lovely!

The most shocking reaction from the general public was a woman who had the nearest thing to a meltdown I’ve ever seen when denied the “fix” of going into one shop which just happened to be unavailable for a couple of hours. “I need to shop, I need to shop!” – she was genuinely distressed! Not being a terrific shopper (or addict of any kind, I’m boring like that), I was stunned by the passion of her distress. I’d like to think that the leaflet she was given and the explanations proffered alleviated her pain, but I doubt it!

My funniest encounter with ‘security’ was a lovely chap who told me I couldn’t hand out leaflets because it was private property. I said “Oh, like the Private Republic of Cabot Circus?”. “Yes” he smiled. I carried on anyway, chatting to people from the non privately owned bit of pavement.

A roar went up when our compatriot was brought out the back way following a clear injunction from megaphone man that this was all good, he had not been mistreated or charged (surprise, surprise) and was being brought out the back way so could we all just give him a hearty welcome and stay peaceable. Which we did. Then immediately nipped over to Dorothy Perkins.

Dotty Ps saw a bit more action, with the banner-holding young anarchist guys following police with cameras in close formation and preventing them from filming. Oh how we laughed. We had quite an audience from the higher levels so held our banners pointing skyward for their information! One guy shouted “it doesn’t affect me” to which the response was “you don’t pay tax? You don’t pay VAT on the stuff you are buying here today?”. All very good humoured. The staff in Dotty’s “who is Dorothy Perkins, where is she?” (I loved that chant) relished the extra downtime they got and were reading the banners we thoughtfully held to the window just in case they were unaware of their boss’s tax situation. Those jobs you create Philip, those insecure, short hours, poor conditions, retail jobs. Not impressive. Lovely girls though. You should be ashamed of yourself for exploiting them.

By which time I have to say my poor old bones had taken as much as they could stand. I conceded defeat and departed in peace. Not having a TV I can only assume that the Twitter timeline spoke for Bristol too when it protested the lack of coverage, particularly on the BBC. I will gladly join the next event wherever and whenever it takes place and will try to linkup with the pre-existing groups I had known nothing about before yesterday. I was impressed by the number of people who joined in because they were personally outraged at the cuts and the corruption, who like me had never been active before but were glad they’d come along. Apathy and being ill informed are much more widespread than I would have believed, but that makes keeping the profile high all the more important. Bugger preaching to the converted. It’s time for revival! And God bless the New Media.