Thursday, July 07, 2005



It seemed slightly surreal. The sun was shining, when I looked out of the window to my right all I could see was an expanse of green fields. Everything was entirely tranquil.

Maybe detached would be a better word.

After yesterday's euphoria today's feeling is very different. I'd chastised London for stealing my thunder. A winning Olympic bid? Pah, I'd just gotten my degree results. In reality I felt rather proud that I'll always connect my degree to that day. Live 8, G8, Olympics, Degree. Now there's something I definitely didn't envisage adding to the list.

I sat in the office, supposedly busy with a final account, as the news started to drip through and I'm not sure how I felt. Because it's an invasion into something worryingly close to home. How many times have I taken the tube? How many times have I caught the bus? How many people began today as simply another day, maybe with a bit more of a spring in their step because yesterday was one of those moments when you can't help but feel a little bit proud? And for how many of them will things forever be different? Because my office, secluded in the midst of Yorkshire's fields, carried on. Other's didn't. And not far away, nameless, faceless places that seem merely statistics but places I recognised. Places I've been.

The image that wrenched me most, when I finally saw a television tonight? The cars with their open doors behind the wreckage of the bus in Ginny Woolf's Tavistock Square. You could almost smell the fear in their open doors, that intensely human panic which had forced their owners to leave them in such a hurry. And I couldn't help but feel my throat constrict at its visible markings.

My thoughts are with everyone caught up in events.

1 comment:

Stephanie said...

Stumbled across your blog today...
I don't know you but I wanted to say I'm glad you're alive and okay. I'm so sorry to hear about what has happened in London.