The Day After...
Over 49 reported fatalities. 700 injured. Tony Blair a sideshow.
Friday in London.
Eerily quiet, with curious mixed messages from the authorities: business as usual, stiff-upper-lip, but also, don't come to Central London unless you have to. This tug of will involves each of us deciding how far to walk, and when to return to using the Underground, and the busses. Many are walking in to work.
News of some hotels profiteering last night by tripling prices for rooms is one side of the human story, and the Hobbesian interpretation of things.
On the other side of the ledger, an extraordinary image of guardian angels in human form: the double-decker bus which exploded did so exactly outside the HQ of the British Medical Association. Within half a minute, many doctors had rushed out to the blast victims in the red wreckage. Each victim had at leat two doctors with them, working to keep them alive until the severely tested ambulance service could arrive. I find this very moving, and perhaps even more than a coincidence. It is also the reason why the death toll (so far) has been lower than expected, for that bus.
It will be difficult to forget July 7. We must move on.
note: graph from BBC online news