One day I caught a news report of a scab bus running the gauntlet of angry protesters. Among the protestors were women I recognised, their faces gouged by fury and intent on violence, holding up toddlers to the bus windows and chanting ‘scab’. The voices that echoed the loudest were those of the toddlers. I felt like the world had come to an end.
After twelve long months almost to the day, the strike ended. Normality returned, but nothing could ever be as it was.
Pit closures began, 25 immediately following the end of the strike including the Yorkshire pit where the dispute had begun. The industry became a victim to ‘pit head bath syndrome’. If your pit suddenly found itself the proud owner of shiny new pithead baths, then it would swiftly be followed by closure.