London 7/7/05

I knew we had it coming, but I never thought that it actually would. I remember speculating before the general election that something might happen – in common with the Madrid attacks, but nothing did. Everything stayed the same and, as Ian McEwan wrote today, we fell into a dream.

My own fondness for London only began late in life. As a provincial northerner, I had visited our capital maybe twice in my first 18 years. In the last 5 years, I have walked London’s streets many times. I wouldn’t say that I know it well, but I never fail to be excited by psychic geography around the metropolis. Accidentally stumbling across the black-on-white street names; places that I have never been before, but already know so well through cultural osmosis: Shaftsbury Avenue, Fleet Street, Brick Lane. One of the greatest city walks I ever did was from Euston, down through Bloomsbury, past the British Museum, then Covent Garden, and down to the River.

Yesterday, many of the emotions that I felt on 9/11 surfaced again: a subdued panic, an addiction to TV news, melancholy, a trace of guilty mourning. As I watch BBC News 24, I become aware of a morbid voyeurism on my part. I get excited when they begin to show traffic-camera footage: “Holy shit!” I think, “They are going to show the bus exploding!” They don’t of course, and I am glad. Nevertheless, I feel dirty for my anticipation.

George Bush’s fatuous comments on the terrorist action “…strengthening our resolve on the war on terror” makes me nauseous. He talks himself up, making claims for all the good the G8 is currently achieving, and I want to apportion blame. I want to shout at the television “It’s because of you, you chimp-eyed, war-mongering cretin! Why couldn’t they kill you instead!” Instead I sit, glued to the reportage, inwardly boiling.

The media look to the security services, and ask “Was it enough?” What more can they do? What should we expect? To be frisked every time we take a tube? No. There will always be man’s free will, and there will always be nutters. We must remember that most people are basically good. I really believe that.

Donna and I both went to bed early and talked about the events. We had both independently thought that the given number of dead seemed low considering the scale of attack. We both felt pessimistic, and expected the number of fatalities would rise to somewhere near 100.
This morning, I wake with a vague feeling of paranoia. Donna rises early and puts on the radio to hear the death toll, which remains at 37.

Refusing to be intimidated, we still plan to visit our great Capital later this month. It will be Maya’s first time there, and I am really looking forward to it.