When the Arsenal bus turned off Blackstock Road towards Newington Green, the heaving crowd was ready. It was only a brief moment, and one more than partially obscured by a drift of red smoke, but as the Premier League champions came past nobody was about to miss their shot. The phones were out, the zoom was pinched and the moment was captured. Then everyone darted off again.
If it was to catch the bus at another point on its odyssey around Islington, to go home, or just rejoin a picnic wasn’t entirely clear. This was not a celebration confined to the official route of the parade. Nor, even, strictly to celebrating Arsenal’s on-field success. It was more than that, and a lot more; a celebration of a community local and global, of an identity that has been forged in adversity and endless mockery, and a moment of joy for a generation that has often not had much to celebrate, full stop.
