There’s a first for everything. This was the first time I had received a gig like this.

The atmosphere was tingling with passion and excitement as I strolled onto the streets of my first protest. I was the ‘Photographer’ (well it said so on the bib I was wearing). I was part of a team, part of a movement and now that I looked the part I had to play the part. The cold air bit harshly onto any exposed skin, the drizzle from the sky dampened the roots if my hair, dewdrops settling themselves upon it.

The pickets were up! Diving into my role as ‘photographer’ I was lucky enough to capture the emotion that pulsed from these motivated and determined workers. Their devotion towards fighting for what they have been stripped off made my job a whole lot easier, as they thrived upon the inspiring speeches and the support they gained from their fellow workers.

Crowds are great aren’t they? Being able to capture action shots is so thrilling. The angry fist pounding, whistles blowing and shrieking with enthusiasm and frantic banner waving are just a few scenes I witnessed through the eye of my lens.

News crews were all lined up as I sandwiched myself in between them, barely visible but I didn’t miss a second. My all seeing digital eye could reach heights and angles that was not visible to the human eye. The shutter clicked rapidly. It finally ceased fire 362 shots later.

The sun peeked through the dark clouds, almost as if it was showering a blessing upon the crowd, presenting its love and support to the union.

This was fun.