I had a regular weekly meeting that ended at noon today, which gave me an opportunity to close the meeting by going on strike. Perhaps not too brave a move when I’m my own boss.

I walked next door, to the backyard of the Coles Building, to join the climate strike protest, expecting, given my aversion to crowds and yelling, that I’d stay for a few moments and then go on to have lunch.

Instead, I got caught up in the proceedings.

The event, which seemed to pleasantly lack concrete leadership, came to feel like an organism all its own. After half an hour of gathering behind Province House, the group appeared to spontaneously start moving; down Grafton to Prince, along Richmond Street to Queen, a stop at City Hall, a stop at MP Sean Casey’s office, along Fitzroy and to The Guardian office, and then back to the Cole Building. Occasional organic chanting. An expansion into taking up the entire street when opportunity afforded. City Police seemingly caught unawares and not sure quite what to do. Anachronistic honks of support from SUVs. It all worked out.

The crowd seemingly included people from 0 to 100. There were commendable contingents from both the Ellerslie — Foxley River area, from Central Queens, and from Greater Dover.

I ran into Oliver, who protests independently now.

He is a rebel. For life.