English pride in Leeds

Two major demonstrations were held in Leeds this weekend.

The first was set up by a fairly new group, the English Defence League, which claims to be protecting the country from Islamification and defending our culture.

The second was a counter-protest by Unite Against Fascism, a group which has come to more prominence in recent months as certain far right groups have made some political gains.

The two were being kept separate by police, who prevented them from marching as planned and instead allowed them to congregate in one area of the city centre each. It meant most shoppers could get on with their day without much disruption, unless you count watching several helicopters hovering overhead.

While UAF was kept to the art gallery area, the EDL was corralled around City Square, right outside the train station. Anyone wishing to catch a train was almost inevitably drawn into the edge of the crowd, while surrounding shops and businesses were forced to close their doors for at least part of the afternoon.

Plush Magazine comments that this is the "ugly face" of English pride, and I couldn't agree more. The EDL was primarily made up of white, young-to-middle-aged, shaven-headed men in varying degrees of intoxication. There was nothing to be proud of in their behaviour on Saturday afternoon - picking fights with bystanders, screaming abuse at anyone who dared to disagree with them and surging through police lines in an attempt to cause further disruption.

The protest has, of course, been allowed in the name of free speech. It is everyone's democratic right to stand up for what they believe in. But there must be a line drawn somewhere.

Saturday's protests required officers from nine police forces to be brought in to Leeds city centre. It is expected to have cost more than the September protest in Manchester, which itself ran up a bill of £800,000. Local businesses - even the ones which were not forced to close - will have lost money as a result of the protest, which acted as a fantastic deterrent to anyone thinking of venturing towards the City square area.

We should, of course, protect the rights of everyone to express their views - but surely only when they do so in a reasonable fashion. Why should ordinary members of the public be subjected to abuse, have their day disrupted, perhaps even fear for their own safety - and then have to foot the bill at the end of it?

Leeds is a multi-cultural, modern and exciting place. That is the kind of Englishness I choose to defend - not the rights of thugs to contaminate our city.

Shopaholic? Only once a year...

I went shopping in Leeds today. That's a sentence you won't hear from me very often, because the ensuing conversation usually terrifies me to my very core. Every time I've mentioned it to anyone I know, I end up feeling hideously out of my depth and inadequate.

The problem is, I don't like shopping. I really don't. I'm 25, female, reasonably slim and of average height. On paper, I should be a shopaholic. I should be frittering away my pennies in the many boutiques on offer in my delightful home city. At least, that's what I've come to understand is the norm for people of my demographic. Female colleagues at work go gooey over Kurt Geiger shoes and Gucci handbags, quoting designers' names and prices from all kinds of stores I'm sure I've never even walked past.

It's not just the clothes. I regularly avoid shopping for gifts, home furnishings, even food, until the consequences of not shopping (starvation, disinheritance etc) begin to appear a greater threat than the prospect of a half-hour trip into the city centre.

Sometimes, if the mood takes me, I can last for almost two hours on my own, wandering around the shops. More often than not, I head out with the best intentions, only to return an hour later, grumpy, without any purchases and with incredibly static hair from pulling my jumper on and off in the changing rooms.

But here's the strange thing: I absolutely love Christmas shopping. It's the busiest time of the year, when fellow shoppers are more irritable than ever and shops pump their heating up to sauna level in order to entice you in from the street. I ought to detest the very idea of spending time in the city centre in December, but I don't. I actually relish the prospect of spending a few hours wandering from shop to shop, picking up things I know my friends and family will love, while being shoved in all different directions and listening to Bing Crosby on a seemingly eternal loop. Perhaps that makes me a generous person, getting far more enthusiastic about shopping for others than for myself.

Or perhaps it just proves, even more than my lack of interest in fashion, that I'm not normal.