Two hours before the opening of the rally and Edinburgh’s tree-lined Meadows were bathed in bright sunlight, alive with energetic anticipation. Children’s T-shirts and dresses were sticky-labelled with their parents’ mobile phone numbers and placards were tucked under arms ready to be hoisted above heads or cleverly employed as parasols and pillows. There was none of the brooding discontent of anti-war or pro-hunting events. The message these people were bringing to Scotland was simple and plainly put: to speak out positively and emphatically to the G8 leaders - who were said to be simultaneously passing their time on the Gleneagles golf courses - and press them for action on debt relief, trade justice and more and better aid for the world’s poorest people.

Edinburgh was excitable, but wary. Just what were these protestors capable of? Days before, I was told, in one of the sandy grey tenements of a quiet Marchmont street, metres from the starting point of the march, the eccentric owner of a carpentry store voiced his concern. “I’m still deciding whether or not to board up my shop. It is a worry you know…some people just don’t like wood”. Spirited twentysomethings and families queued among throngs of students, all waiting to be marshalled through the gates onto the march circuit, while red-shirted Socialist Workers on a recruitment drive vied for the attention of the white-shirted Make Poverty History protestors. “You can’t make poverty history without making capitalism history!” came the cries. “Anyone for a T-shirt? Only a fiver”.