I was very proud of my home city last Saturday. The fascists came to Brighton and they did not pass: 300 yards maximum. They got a sightseeing tour of the station – round the front, down the side and up the back – and were kettled next to two of our finest real ale pubs next to it, but they saw very little of anywhere else, and march through the city centre they most certainly did not. Maybe 400 of them, mostly from miles away, and around 4,000 of us, mostly local.

And this wasn’t just a counter-demo, it was a Carnival Against Fascism. Blaring instruments, pounding drums, lots of costumes, banners and posters and Fatboy Slim on the wheels of steel. All ages, all backgrounds, united in defence of our city and our culture. And the same level of opposition turned up in Belfast and Glasgow. There are many, many more of us than them, as the slogan goes, and we intend to keep it that way.

Today, one week later, I’m at Clacton Rocks Festival, standing up for diversity and progressive culture in the unfortunate seaside town which has Farage as an MP. It’s my third visit since he started infesting the place, which means I’ve probably been there more than he has, and it’s organised by Clacton Arts Centre, which isn’t a building, just a sign made of Letraset which appears at any event its inventors organise.

It does hope to be a building one day though.

Well done to Essex Book Festival and Unity in the Community for getting behind the project. Less well done to Harlow Council. I was supposed to be appearing there as well this month, also as part of Essex Book Festival, but the council vetoed my appearance because I’m “not politically neutral.” Particularly disappointing because I lived there for 10 years and I thought they’d welcome me to my adopted 80s home town with open arms.

They’re Tory. I’m joking.

In total contrast, Kent University did invite me back last night, for a performance as part of a weekend celebrating their diamond jubilee. I started there in 1975, aged 17, immediately got on the Entertainments Committee, threw myself into student activism — and then punk happened a year later and I had the time of my life. 

We put on some of the most legendary bands when hardly anyone had heard of them: The Stranglers, The Jam and most memorably The Damned in November 1976, one of their earliest gigs, such a last-minute support to Eddie & the Hot Roads that we had to write their name on the posters in felt tip.  

When Rock Against Racism started I became the local organiser, uniting the student scene with the local Canterbury schoolkids’ one and putting on loads of gigs.

And I stood for union president in my last year. I didn’t win, but I did double the turnout coming second! 

And, of course, being a student was completely different back then. There were grants. I was the first member of my family to go to university and got a full one, which combined with a bit of money I made from my earliest gigs meant that when I graduated I actually had money in my bank account. And we students were bolshy and then some — we’d occupy the registry if they put the price of the sandwiches up in the canteen. The staff there were sanguine: “You lot again? OK, if you must!”  

I had a wonderful time at Kent University, and learned the skills as performer, gig organiser and political activist which I have used for literally my entire adult life. I was studying politics and French, and loved it, but I learned far more about everything else, and it was a real honour to be invited back for the 60th anniversary. The weekend kicked off with a barbecue on the registry lawn. I considered occupying it again, just for old time’s sake, but I’m a respectable 68-year-old with a councillor wife, so I didn’t. 

Enjoy the summer.

For further info please visit facebook and/or bandcamp