London Bombing

London Bombing
Originally uploaded by meejawhore.

Having posted about London's wonderful Olympic victory, it would be remiss of me to ignore the tragedy that followed in the capital a day later. Unusually, I took it all in my stride from the get go. This is probably because I've been expecting it since I moved into my first house in Streatham in January 1996. Before you think I'm being glib, let me paint the picture. My mother drove me down over the Christmas holidays to find a property to rent. The best one I found was a superb huge room in the top of a house, opposite the Streatham Police Station. Having signed on the dotted line I returned in the first week of January with a car load of my stuff ready to move in. Could we park near the house? No. The reason? There'd been warnings that the IRA were about to start a new bombing campaign so the police had coned off the whole street.

My first thought was: "So that's how it's going to be is it?" I'm sure my parents were thinking the same thing, they certainly didn't look happy to be leaving me in London. My second thought was: "How rubbish do you have to be as a terrorist if a few traffic cones are going to scupper your plan?" Anyway, I digress.

Before we go any further you should realise that I'm not making light of a terrible situation - what happened was horrific and those who were caught up in it and their loved ones have my sympathy. However, what I found during the day as the events unfolded was that people crave tragedy. They don't just want to see it happening they need to touch it in some personal way. You don't believe me? How come every time we heard about a new area being affected by the bombs someone in my office said "Oh my god, I know someone who lives there" or "Oh no, my friend works in that area"? Why did I receive emails from people I haven't seen for years, let alone shared a "Hello, how are you?" virtual conversation with?

I could understand the reaction if it was a tiny village or town that was affected, but London is massive. That morning I'd been through Kings Cross tube station myself, about 40 minutes before the bomb there went off. About 100 people got off the tube with me, and the same four minutes later, and the same five minutes after that - you get the idea. There are around three million of us living here and a large part of that number do the daily trip in to work, so the chances of you knowing someone involved was remarkably slim. But that didn't stop people clutching at tragic straws.

"Hey terrorist, terrorize this!"

By the end of the day normal service had resumed and it was already becoming business as usual. Did the terrorists win and keep everyone off the trains and buses that night? Did they bollocks. I didn't see a bus that had any standing room and people were flooding into the train station. It seems Londoners are a practical lot when it comes down to it. Even the majority of the tubes were running again by the next morning, just another example of how amazing our emergency services and transport officials were at dealing with the crisis.

I can even take a positive from the situation myself as it helped me solve an interesting question: could I walk home from where I work next to Blackfriars Bridge to my house in Walthamstow? If you'd have asked me on Wednesday I'd have said: "No, don't be ridiculous!" According to Google Maps it's 12 miles exactly. I can now tell you with authority that it only takes two hours and thirty three minutes door to door, which includes about 10 minutes spent navigating with an A-Z along the way. Not something I'd choose to do everyday, but it's nice to know my legs will carry me that far if it all goes tits up again in the future.