Indymedia York

Night fell hours ago, its actually still warmer outside than inside, and there's now only six of us. But hey, such is life in a York squat. Which is not exactly how I expected it to be, even as a vaguely experienced squatter.

I'm looking out of the window at the river running past. I can't remember hearing of a squat with such wonderful views. The river might technically still be in flood, but its much lower than it was before. Earlier we stood on the rickety first floor balcony drinking and listening to an impromptu guitar performance (the first of two) and watching normality around us. Its ironic, perhaps, that we can see the Magistrates' clock tower from here.

That isn't the only thing that sets York Squatting on a different plateau. Someone donated champagne earlier in the week (I honestly don't know why, or how) and the empty bottles still adorn the food table. Tonight we were drinking the last of several different Whiskeys and two Vodkas. I'm pleased to report a lack of visible drug usage.

OK, well, tonight we were supposed to have a rhythmic workshop entitled "Noise Brigade" (a reference, I'm assuming, to the Infernal Noise Brigade). But instead, we had stencilling and chatting, a random game of 'rearrange the letters' that stretched all evening, and just generally an amazing vibe throughout. It really feels like no one and everyone is in charge; such a relief from the micro-managed-York outside my window. Its a privilege to be here, and I hope everyone reading this gets a chance to drop by and experience it.

We've now settled into bed (someone just filled a hot-water-bottle, surely there's a rule against that in squats) and I think at least two people have dozed off, so from me and all of us here in commerce free, management free, corporate planning free York, Good night.