“There’s something happening,” Nick tells me. “There’s a pattern to it”.
He says this a lot. He’s always right.
Nick Sheldrick is eagle-eyed. He’ll be the first to spot the policeman with red pips on his shoulders chatting feverishly into a walkie talkie, the blue-vested “liaison officers” coordinating with security, and the special forces with “evidence gathers” emblazoned on the vests dragging their camera and tripod up the road.
Nothing within this 25 metres of road goes unnoticed by Nick and his fellow protesters: how the fence has been extended, which police officer is first to the gate, or when a row of stumpy new-growth shrubs suddenly appears at either end of the wired division, allegedly to push the protesters further back into the road.
