Yesterday 4 terrorist bombs hit Central London. Cat and I were making our usual commute into town when we were evacuated from the central line at St Paul's. Little did we, or anyone, know of the scale of the horror. We simply put it down to the frequent tube disruptions that we Londoners cope with almost daily.
Cat got on a bus, I tried to walk towards Barbican. This was all around 9.30-9.40 am. Seven minutes later, the Tavistock Square bus exploded and all the buses and tubes were suspended. Cat made it to work and called me to warn me from taking any public transport. I was stuck in Bank and just walked all the way home, where I was shocked to see the events unfold on the TV news.
I have since been sat at home ruminating over the events. Those bombs could have been targetted anywhere. We were ALL targets. Someone I knew could have perished. My heart began to sink at the senselessness.
My Mum called in to report ok, as did Cat and both made it home ok too.
Maybe the events of the day got to me, maybe I do this all the time, but I did something bizarre last night:
In the middle of last night, I apparently broke into full song. I never knew I sleep talked but Cat was awoken by my singing. I was singing, in a loud voice, a made-up tune about hybrids, cloning and doing the washing up. It was so loud she was screaming at me to shut up. I even had a full conversation after the singing with me denying I was singing, apparently. I awoke in the morning totally unaware of all this but with her GLARING at me. It has taken a lot of apologies and pleading of innocence to get her to forgive me - oh and the washing up.
A small moment of humour during a bleak and depressing 24 hours.
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