It always stuns me just how different one week might seem – how such positive highs can possibly give way to dark thunderclouds - yet after a little close contemplation, a general theme gently emerges from the confusion. A theme that brings a smile to your face…

Living in Bristol one major dilemma I often face is simply having many fantastic and generally free things to go to each night and day of the week. From meetings for Community Farms to mini BMX jousting, from the creativity of the Bristol Do to rallies against the unjust cuts. There is never an easy choice to make; except for last Friday that is. Igfest’s “2.8 days later” (surviving a zombie infested Bristol City centre) was a clear winner, hands down.

With frantic online activity we organised a crack team of born survivors to tackle the sudden invasion, even calling in two friends from London. Armed with fake weaponry, rope, duck-tape and pull-ties we took our places in the line-up and joked with false bravado. Inside, despite bringing knee pads, bum-bags and pens (mightier than the sword, right Jo?) our stomachs were knotted with fear of what the evening would put us through.

Without going into any of the gory details – those who attended will know – some of us survived... Exhausted, bruised, goofy, spent, delighted and weary we made it into the vaults of the old Lloyds building to sanctuary and a new celebration of life; pure and simple life.

My eyes were reopened and I started the week with an even stronger sense of optimism and faith in the world and city busy humming all around me.

This was strengthened on Wednesday when the good people of Stokes Croft and Montpelier (and around) centred on the College Green to sing and speak out against Tesco. The multinational corporation is still determined to place itself in the heart of our community despite overwhelming objection of the local residents.

This feeling of a people-led local future-proof strategy for food security was soon dashed against the rocks of despair when the Tesco lawyer mumbled his reminder to the council that planning permission had been granted/sneaked through.

What followed was a sham of a debate. Red tape ultimately triumphed against the people of Bristol. The arguments, so beautifully provided by three caring individuals, were completely disregarded as lawyers employed by told our elected “representatives” how to think and, ultimately, vote.

None of the packed public gallery could believe the result. Social, environmental and local economic objections were not even discussed and the only objection seemed to centre on what the Tesco sign was of, rather than whet it represented.

It would seem that food security and community spirit are not deemed important to the local planning committee.

Disillusioned, infuriated, enraged and just plain dumbstruck the galleries emptied in the general confusion and head shaking that government depends on to get away with the injustices it often does.

How could this end in another feeling of optimism about this city and the world around me?

The battle will not stop here. The campaign will take on new strengths now. Our eyes have been opened that the council is not there to help us; it is there to manage us. The rules are clear now and we must use this new-found energy and channel it into positive new campaigns to stop Tesco’s and provide an alternative vision of the future. The zombies didn’t stop us. Nor will Tesco!

We had survived an invasion of a great evil in the form of zombies, now another threat looms on the horizon. This one will not be over in 2.8 hours; it will require even greater fortitude, inventiveness, persistence and sheer will to survive. For this is what the struggle against Tesco represents: survival. The survival of a singularly unique district of Bristol. Cheltenham is the last road not to be taken over by the chain stores that have infested other street and cities throughout the world.

It is more than a simple struggle becoming just another “Clone Town”, it is the belief in a sustainable future; one where food is produced close to where it is consumed, where farmers are treated fairly (perhaps even celebrated?), where we are not dependent on the choices of an oil-dependent and hungry multinational. A future where we can once again not just simply accept what we are given but take an active role in what we want and it reaches us, one where we can enjoy the beauty of life, pure and simple life.