Look. What's going on currently in London is absolutely dreadful and horrifying. Make no bones about it. But honestly, it's a media frenzy. You can tell it was slow news day/ week/ month/ year. Or perhaps that's just London tabloids for you.... actually, correction, this kind of sensationalism is indemic in the media worldwide. Ahhh.... a sigh for the good old days of speculation on whether Michael Jackson is indeed a kiddie fiddler and whether Jordan (Katie Price) and Peter Andre are suitable parents....
Now I understand why Big Brother is such a success phenomenon. We can just switch off from the horrors of the real world. I think, if I was fully into conspiracy theories, I would almost believe that the media was in cahoots with the terrorists just to create a story, cos who honestly gives a rats about Micky J? And I'm coming across a lot of other garbage at the moment. This is a website an acquaintance sent to me just after the 7/7 bombings in London.
http://www.prisonplanet.com/Pages/Jul05/070705explosions_London.html
What is this!!!!
When I arrived back at work on the Friday after the bombings I was going into a city full of nervous and anxious people. No one knowing what was going to happen next.
I work at Network Rail right next to Euston Station. The public sector entity that owns all the tracks and rail land in the UK. I sit in an open plan office amongst the Safety and Environment staff, with the Safety Director situated right behind me.
My colleagues described how they heard (and felt a blast...via shaking of the building) and then saw smoke coming up from a location nearby. Woburn Place, Tavistock Square. It was the number 30 bus from Hackney Wick.
We discussed the bombing locations over lunch. Sure Kings Cross and Liverpool Street were obvious. Two major stations that included tube and overland trains as well as major bus terminals. But what about the bus and the Edgeware Road tube? On a simple inspection of the transport routes we realised that the bus would have passed through Euston Station bus terminal and the Edgeware Road train was only one stop away from Paddington. Euston and Paddington. Again major transport terminals, servicing tubes, overland trains and buses.
The point being.... the terrorists missed their targets!
.... Eye witness accounts on the no. 30 bus reported that the suspect looked quite agitated and fumbled in his bag moments before the explosion. This also would have been moments after leaving Euston.
So logically you'd think well that's too bad as they won't get the chance to bomb again being suicide bombers and all. So we're safe, yeah? No more bombings?
It appears not. And the events unfolding over the last two weeks have confirmed this. Station closures, security alerts.... searches....raids, arrests.... and two weeks from the first bombings a nail bomb exploded at Warren Street Station along with detonators, but not the bombs, as well as 3 other blasts at locations around London, including a bus. Do we see a pattern emerging here?
Yesterday a man was shot at Stockwell underground station. 3 plain clothes police accosted the man and pumped 5 bullets into him. It later turns out he was not connected with the bombings.
www.bbc.co.uk
I, like most other Londoners, also feel very nervous about travelling around on public transport at the moment. A good time to get myself a bicycle I guess.
There are comparisons being made to the times of the IRA bombings. The police, in a sad way, almost nostalgic for those days when they knew who the enemy was and a sinister kind of chivalry shown by the IRA with the warnings given before exploding a bomb.
So where do I stand? I was never in agreement to the Americans going into Iraq in the first place. They have managed to create another Vietnam. However, I think it would be totally irresponsible for this alliance to withdraw troops from there now and leave Iraq in this state. They fucked it. They should fix it.
Nor do I believe that the situation in Iraq is any excuse whatsoever for the atrocities committed by the terrorists. From a London perspective, this is a world city and the innocent people killed and injured came from backgrounds of varying ethnicities. It is senseless and wanton.
I really do think that the world has changed forever. And whatever lessons we didn't learn from the holocausts of WW2, Korea, Vietnam then I certainly hope this is the final wake-up call that we need. I just hope that we, and our leaders, can all find compassion within us and accept and embrace differences and all work towards a peaceful world.
Saturday, July 23, 2005
just so you know, next time you see me...
I've shaved all my hair off, well, all of it on my head anyway. You can blame the hairdressers, everywhere I go to in London gives me some horrible haircut and really cheesy blonde dyejob so I look like some English dollybird slapper, and quite frankly I've had enough. This last one was so ghastly I just thought bugger it, let's get rid of the lot and I'm going to buy a nice wig. At least you know what you're getting when you pay for it. Besides, I'm starting to think bald looks pretty hot.
Saturday, July 09, 2005
ghost town...
What an eerie quiet transpired through the streets this morning as I walked up to catch the bus to the overland station. At 8am the streets are normally buzzing with the peak hour commuters busily making their way to work. Not even the High Street shops were open. Some guy with luggage, also at the bus stop, stubbed out his cigarette and jumped on the 52 bus headed for Victoria Station. He must have been on his way to catch the train to Gatwick airport....The Jubilee line train from Dollis Hill into Green Park and then 1 stop on to Victoria Station would have been much quicker....but then... there was no way I was game to be sitting on the tube today either.
The 98 came trundling by. I hopped on board, glancing at the stairwell to the top deck and then moving on to the back of the lower deck. I sat in a window seat by myself. My shoulder bag and plastic lunch bag clasped to me. I'd purposefully decided to leave my backpack at home today. Deep breaths. Nervousness present in every part of my being.
A few more passengers, women and children, boarded the bus. Unexpectedly I found myself surrounded by them and glanced around annoyed. Surely there were spare seats elsewhere. It was a near empty bus. Then I saw what...rather who... they were avoiding. A young man of what seemed Middle Eastern ethnicity sitting at the opposite window with a backpack. He caught my eye for just a moment and then turned away.... I understand... He fitted the eye-witness description of the suicide bomber on the number 30 bus yesterday. But then, so does every other Middle Eastern man....and who doesn't carry a small backpack around with them.... I felt sad and sorry for him. I hoped that people giving him a wide berth on the bus would be the only backlash he would experience of yesterday's bombings.
I walked past the Girls' Secondary Islamia College and Primary School to Queen's Park Station. Empty. A sign advertising the school fair on Sunday 9th July hanging over the school gates. 11am to 3pm. I thought I would like to go.
Arrive Queen's Park. 15 minutes to spare before the train to Euston was due. Far too early. No one about. The local schools were closed. No cars on the roads. Very few people. Walking fast and looking down. Fairly typical for Londoners, I guess, but just maybe today I felt a nervous atmosphere about the streets. I felt too agitated to sit and wait for the train so took the opportunity to grab a coffee up the road and pick up a copy of the Metro. Every page full of graphic pictorials of yesterday. A deep sadness welled up within me.
8.40 am. The Silverlink train to Euston arrived. I sat on the train reading my paper and sipping on my coffee. Anxious to get moving. An announcement came over the PA from the train driver. The train would be held at Queen's Park until further notice due to a security alert at Euston Station. .... A quiet murmur throughout the carriage. Everyone nervously looking glancing up at each other. United as commuters and a fearful empathy.
To be continued...
The 98 came trundling by. I hopped on board, glancing at the stairwell to the top deck and then moving on to the back of the lower deck. I sat in a window seat by myself. My shoulder bag and plastic lunch bag clasped to me. I'd purposefully decided to leave my backpack at home today. Deep breaths. Nervousness present in every part of my being.
A few more passengers, women and children, boarded the bus. Unexpectedly I found myself surrounded by them and glanced around annoyed. Surely there were spare seats elsewhere. It was a near empty bus. Then I saw what...rather who... they were avoiding. A young man of what seemed Middle Eastern ethnicity sitting at the opposite window with a backpack. He caught my eye for just a moment and then turned away.... I understand... He fitted the eye-witness description of the suicide bomber on the number 30 bus yesterday. But then, so does every other Middle Eastern man....and who doesn't carry a small backpack around with them.... I felt sad and sorry for him. I hoped that people giving him a wide berth on the bus would be the only backlash he would experience of yesterday's bombings.
I walked past the Girls' Secondary Islamia College and Primary School to Queen's Park Station. Empty. A sign advertising the school fair on Sunday 9th July hanging over the school gates. 11am to 3pm. I thought I would like to go.
Arrive Queen's Park. 15 minutes to spare before the train to Euston was due. Far too early. No one about. The local schools were closed. No cars on the roads. Very few people. Walking fast and looking down. Fairly typical for Londoners, I guess, but just maybe today I felt a nervous atmosphere about the streets. I felt too agitated to sit and wait for the train so took the opportunity to grab a coffee up the road and pick up a copy of the Metro. Every page full of graphic pictorials of yesterday. A deep sadness welled up within me.
8.40 am. The Silverlink train to Euston arrived. I sat on the train reading my paper and sipping on my coffee. Anxious to get moving. An announcement came over the PA from the train driver. The train would be held at Queen's Park until further notice due to a security alert at Euston Station. .... A quiet murmur throughout the carriage. Everyone nervously looking glancing up at each other. United as commuters and a fearful empathy.
To be continued...
Thursday, July 07, 2005
state of emergency
As I write this I’m literally shaking... feeling deeply affected by the horrific events of this morning here in Central London.
It must have been shortly after 10am when the phone rang... I was in bed asleep, taking a day off sick with, unbelievably, my third bout of ‘flu since I arrived over here. In a groggy stupor and somewhat irritated at having been disturbed I fumbled between my mobile and landline finally answering with a curt ‘hello!’. It was my mother... what on earth did she want? Something must have happened at home in Australia... She asked if I was all right. Of course, why wouldn’t I be? I was now awake and alert. She told me of the bomb blasts in London that were being reported back home in Melbourne. I took this in completely stunned. Fine, I’ll keep in touch. Thanks for calling and letting me know.....
...With dread I went to turn on the tv. At least four bomb blasts. Tube Stations: Edgeware Road, Aldgate East, Kings Cross and on the number 30 bus from Hackney to Marble Arch at Woburn Place (Tavistock Square). Images of the double decker bus broadcast across the tv. Ripped apart and reports of some of the victims having been decapitated. Some have lost limbs, burns to their bodies, head injuries, fractures from being thrown by the blast, fragments from glass and masonry lodged in them....
Tavistock Square is such a lovely part of London. On a sunny day my boyfriend and I meet up and have lunch there in the gardens, sitting on the grass and enjoying the surrounds. Situated between Russell Square and the University of London (Bloomsbury), it is a precinct often full of commuters, tourists, travellers and uni students.
My boyfriend and I both work at Euston. We travel to work on one of the lines that passes through Aldgate East and ofcourse, King’s Cross is only just a short walk up Euston Road.... Logically I knew and reasoned with myself that he should be ok. However, fear was niggling at me. He’d left for work somewhat late this morning given that I was taken ill. I’d tried to call him on themobile. Message bank. ...try again... blank.... try again... a fax machine.... try again.... dead air....panic starting to creep up within me. Telling myself that it’s ok. All lines are down. The Emergency Services must be overriding the communications systems. What was his work number? Silly, I’m usually so organised with that sort of thing... keeping contact numbers for emergencies etc.... We don’t even have a phone book here at home... I tried to get on the net to look up the Yellow Pages.... useless.... no phone communications whatsoever.... rummage through some personal papers.... finally find an official letter from his workplace.....
It was only last week my building had been evacuated in a fire/bomb drill. Casually making our way down stairs, glad to have ½ hour or so to get away from the desk. Chatting to my colleagues on the lawn. A bit of a nervous giggle and a quiet speculation about what it would be like if it was the real thing....
Weeks earlier I had been having lunch with my colleagues in the square outside Euston Station. I realised I had nowhere to put my rubbish and that cleaners were employed to walk around and pick up the litter left behind.... bizarre... I queried this practise. My colleagues informed me that it was a security measure. Terrorists could place a bomb in a bin. And indeed, this was a popular method used in previous years by the IRA. I swept my hand behind me, gesturing towards the station. Yes, but what is stopping someone from planting a bomb on the station or on one of the trains? What is stopping suicide bombers from getting on a packed tube train in peak hour? Despite all the warnings, no one could seriously notice. It would be far too easy. Everyone is squashed into those trains like sardines.... how easy would it be.... and stuck down all the way down there in the underground.... what kind of emergency evacuation plans do they have for a terror threat? And what if London gets the Olympics? How will the transport system cope then? What kind of security measures could they seriously put into place with the extra loads of travellers coming to the city? We’re all sitting ducks down there. We all know what happens when there is a signal failure or a train breakdown on the Underground. Everything grinds to a halt. With no ventilation the air becomes stifling. Not knowing exactly what is going on or how long we are going to be stuck down there. Suppressing the fear that begins to arise in the back of our minds. Imagine the carnage that someone could cause... if they wanted to...???
8.50am, Thursday 7th July, the first bomb blast occurs on an underground train between Liverpool St and Aldgate East Stations.
Yes, no doubt this abomination was designed to coincide with the G8 Summit held in Scotland, Gleneagle this week. For sure, I’d watched with interest from my floor at work the crowds gathering last week at Euston, ready to travel up to Scotland to protest against G8. The usual suspects. Dreadlocks, anti-war t-shirts etc. With amusement and raised eyebrows, we gazed over the crowd as a couple of these so-called anti-globalist activists lined up to buy their Starbucks coffee?? At the same time, feeling half guilty myself for wearing my pin-striped suit and half wishing I was down there with them. Supporting fundamentally what they were standing for. Fair Trade, Not Free Trade. End the War in Iraq.
Bob Geldof’s Live 8 concert was held on Saturday in Hyde Park. A stellar line-up of ‘global’ rock-stars. Some even who performed at the original Band Aid. Well, after watching the Nat West one-day cricket final (which, quite frankly, I was far more interested in... and sad to say drawing with England on the final ball... poor Glen McGragh) whilst working out on the treadmill at the gym I switched over to Madonna planting a big sloppy kiss on some poor bewildered African girl, apparently in the name of Making Poverty History.. However, made for a nice beat to complete my workout to.
A Saturday night at home on the couch in front of the teeves... feeling rather povo... don’t get paid for another couple of weeks. Happy to veg after almost two hours at the gym plus the walk home! Phew! I’m going to end up looking like Madonna myself at this rate. My cynical mind kicking into action as we watched Live 8 (the great masturbate...). Yeah, like what the f*%k do any of these rock-stars care about world poverty? All they are concerned with is putting on a good show, which they don’t have to pay for, and watching there record sales sky-rocket the following week. Especially the old rockers such as The Who and those whose careers seem to be ailing somewhat. ... I guess, to their credit, Pink Floyd has declared that any extra royalties received as a result of Live 8 will be donated to charity. As for Bono of U2.... disgraceful... suing for the Stetson hat he gave away backstage after the final Joshua Tree tour in 1987...What’s his problem? Ego, apparently, is still not a dirty word.
"Violence and arrests as G8 Protestors clash with Police in Scotland" – Tuesday 5th July.
A loud applause and a genuine feeling of euphoria as the London lunchtime crowd hears the news that they have won the bid to host the Olympics in 2012. Everyone is abuzz with excitement in the canteen at work. A definite jovial spirit is afoot. And I warn them that the Aussies are coming... Oi Oi Oi! ... Wednesday 6th July.
....Now I sit here feeling so desperately sad and desperately hope that this will not incite hate crimes against the Muslim community as retaliation for what has occurred today.
I checked in with work earlier. It will be business as usual tomorrow at Network Rail. At least in the Finance Department. But I sit amongst the Safety & Compliance Division. I can only imagine the immensity of the task they have ahead of them to work with other rail operators to get the trains up and running tomorrow.
I will wake up earlier than my normal time and walk to Queen’s Park (past the Islamic School, the Synagogue and Multi-Faith Centre) ... and, with trepidation, catch the Silverlink overland train into Euston...
The horror.... the horror....
It must have been shortly after 10am when the phone rang... I was in bed asleep, taking a day off sick with, unbelievably, my third bout of ‘flu since I arrived over here. In a groggy stupor and somewhat irritated at having been disturbed I fumbled between my mobile and landline finally answering with a curt ‘hello!’. It was my mother... what on earth did she want? Something must have happened at home in Australia... She asked if I was all right. Of course, why wouldn’t I be? I was now awake and alert. She told me of the bomb blasts in London that were being reported back home in Melbourne. I took this in completely stunned. Fine, I’ll keep in touch. Thanks for calling and letting me know.....
...With dread I went to turn on the tv. At least four bomb blasts. Tube Stations: Edgeware Road, Aldgate East, Kings Cross and on the number 30 bus from Hackney to Marble Arch at Woburn Place (Tavistock Square). Images of the double decker bus broadcast across the tv. Ripped apart and reports of some of the victims having been decapitated. Some have lost limbs, burns to their bodies, head injuries, fractures from being thrown by the blast, fragments from glass and masonry lodged in them....
Tavistock Square is such a lovely part of London. On a sunny day my boyfriend and I meet up and have lunch there in the gardens, sitting on the grass and enjoying the surrounds. Situated between Russell Square and the University of London (Bloomsbury), it is a precinct often full of commuters, tourists, travellers and uni students.
My boyfriend and I both work at Euston. We travel to work on one of the lines that passes through Aldgate East and ofcourse, King’s Cross is only just a short walk up Euston Road.... Logically I knew and reasoned with myself that he should be ok. However, fear was niggling at me. He’d left for work somewhat late this morning given that I was taken ill. I’d tried to call him on themobile. Message bank. ...try again... blank.... try again... a fax machine.... try again.... dead air....panic starting to creep up within me. Telling myself that it’s ok. All lines are down. The Emergency Services must be overriding the communications systems. What was his work number? Silly, I’m usually so organised with that sort of thing... keeping contact numbers for emergencies etc.... We don’t even have a phone book here at home... I tried to get on the net to look up the Yellow Pages.... useless.... no phone communications whatsoever.... rummage through some personal papers.... finally find an official letter from his workplace.....
ring the head office number.... what department does
he work for?.... umm.... glancing frantically at the letter.... that’s it....
they put me through..... oh yes, they know him... no he’s not
there....what!!!!!..... they’ll just check.....oh, sorry for the confusion, he
is actually at head office for a work induction today....I can ring head office
again and ask to speak to Human Resources to check that he made it in.... the
phone calls start again... more lines jammed.... fear in my throat... gulping...
back to Head Office.... I’m calling on behalf of my boyfriend.... just want to
speak to someone in HR and make sure he is ok...we’ll put you through...
hello?... yes, errr no, sorry he is not on our list. How do you spell his name
again?... ok, yes we have him listed here. yes, he’s here....
It was only last week my building had been evacuated in a fire/bomb drill. Casually making our way down stairs, glad to have ½ hour or so to get away from the desk. Chatting to my colleagues on the lawn. A bit of a nervous giggle and a quiet speculation about what it would be like if it was the real thing....
Weeks earlier I had been having lunch with my colleagues in the square outside Euston Station. I realised I had nowhere to put my rubbish and that cleaners were employed to walk around and pick up the litter left behind.... bizarre... I queried this practise. My colleagues informed me that it was a security measure. Terrorists could place a bomb in a bin. And indeed, this was a popular method used in previous years by the IRA. I swept my hand behind me, gesturing towards the station. Yes, but what is stopping someone from planting a bomb on the station or on one of the trains? What is stopping suicide bombers from getting on a packed tube train in peak hour? Despite all the warnings, no one could seriously notice. It would be far too easy. Everyone is squashed into those trains like sardines.... how easy would it be.... and stuck down all the way down there in the underground.... what kind of emergency evacuation plans do they have for a terror threat? And what if London gets the Olympics? How will the transport system cope then? What kind of security measures could they seriously put into place with the extra loads of travellers coming to the city? We’re all sitting ducks down there. We all know what happens when there is a signal failure or a train breakdown on the Underground. Everything grinds to a halt. With no ventilation the air becomes stifling. Not knowing exactly what is going on or how long we are going to be stuck down there. Suppressing the fear that begins to arise in the back of our minds. Imagine the carnage that someone could cause... if they wanted to...???
8.50am, Thursday 7th July, the first bomb blast occurs on an underground train between Liverpool St and Aldgate East Stations.
Yes, no doubt this abomination was designed to coincide with the G8 Summit held in Scotland, Gleneagle this week. For sure, I’d watched with interest from my floor at work the crowds gathering last week at Euston, ready to travel up to Scotland to protest against G8. The usual suspects. Dreadlocks, anti-war t-shirts etc. With amusement and raised eyebrows, we gazed over the crowd as a couple of these so-called anti-globalist activists lined up to buy their Starbucks coffee?? At the same time, feeling half guilty myself for wearing my pin-striped suit and half wishing I was down there with them. Supporting fundamentally what they were standing for. Fair Trade, Not Free Trade. End the War in Iraq.
Bob Geldof’s Live 8 concert was held on Saturday in Hyde Park. A stellar line-up of ‘global’ rock-stars. Some even who performed at the original Band Aid. Well, after watching the Nat West one-day cricket final (which, quite frankly, I was far more interested in... and sad to say drawing with England on the final ball... poor Glen McGragh) whilst working out on the treadmill at the gym I switched over to Madonna planting a big sloppy kiss on some poor bewildered African girl, apparently in the name of Making Poverty History.. However, made for a nice beat to complete my workout to.
A Saturday night at home on the couch in front of the teeves... feeling rather povo... don’t get paid for another couple of weeks. Happy to veg after almost two hours at the gym plus the walk home! Phew! I’m going to end up looking like Madonna myself at this rate. My cynical mind kicking into action as we watched Live 8 (the great masturbate...). Yeah, like what the f*%k do any of these rock-stars care about world poverty? All they are concerned with is putting on a good show, which they don’t have to pay for, and watching there record sales sky-rocket the following week. Especially the old rockers such as The Who and those whose careers seem to be ailing somewhat. ... I guess, to their credit, Pink Floyd has declared that any extra royalties received as a result of Live 8 will be donated to charity. As for Bono of U2.... disgraceful... suing for the Stetson hat he gave away backstage after the final Joshua Tree tour in 1987...What’s his problem? Ego, apparently, is still not a dirty word.
"Violence and arrests as G8 Protestors clash with Police in Scotland" – Tuesday 5th July.
A loud applause and a genuine feeling of euphoria as the London lunchtime crowd hears the news that they have won the bid to host the Olympics in 2012. Everyone is abuzz with excitement in the canteen at work. A definite jovial spirit is afoot. And I warn them that the Aussies are coming... Oi Oi Oi! ... Wednesday 6th July.
....Now I sit here feeling so desperately sad and desperately hope that this will not incite hate crimes against the Muslim community as retaliation for what has occurred today.
I checked in with work earlier. It will be business as usual tomorrow at Network Rail. At least in the Finance Department. But I sit amongst the Safety & Compliance Division. I can only imagine the immensity of the task they have ahead of them to work with other rail operators to get the trains up and running tomorrow.
I will wake up earlier than my normal time and walk to Queen’s Park (past the Islamic School, the Synagogue and Multi-Faith Centre) ... and, with trepidation, catch the Silverlink overland train into Euston...
The horror.... the horror....
Friday, July 01, 2005
live 8 masturbate
G8 Summit. More world leaders scratching their heads. Whatever happened to the good 'ole days of slavery? How can we convince these Africans that they'd at least be fed and watered if they agreed to be our slaves again, rather starved and slaughtered by their own corrupt governments...???
....July 1, 2005... A crowd gathers outside Euston station with placards declaring Bush and Blair terrorists... yawn.... baggage ready to go to Edinburgh to protest for the ensuing G8 summit. I watch them with interest from my 3rd floor open plan office at Network Rail. Half wishing I was out there with them...feeling somewhat guilty for my pin striped charcoal attire... that is, until someone calls out 'look! they are buying coffee from Starbucks....!!!!!!' Wha... the... ??????
So why is it so difficult for these so-called activists to resist a coffee from Starbucks and walk the extra 10 metres or so to the AMT (free trade) coffee stand? Beats me????
...what the fudge do rock-stars care about world poverty? I mean, was Bono thinking about a social conscience when he sued his former Joshua Tree stylist for the Stetson he 'gave' her on the final night of the tour? Is Robbie Williams giving any of his increased royalties resulting from the Live 8 concerts to World Aid? Are the activists still sipping on Starbucks or chilling with a Coke?
....July 1, 2005... A crowd gathers outside Euston station with placards declaring Bush and Blair terrorists... yawn.... baggage ready to go to Edinburgh to protest for the ensuing G8 summit. I watch them with interest from my 3rd floor open plan office at Network Rail. Half wishing I was out there with them...feeling somewhat guilty for my pin striped charcoal attire... that is, until someone calls out 'look! they are buying coffee from Starbucks....!!!!!!' Wha... the... ??????
So why is it so difficult for these so-called activists to resist a coffee from Starbucks and walk the extra 10 metres or so to the AMT (free trade) coffee stand? Beats me????
...what the fudge do rock-stars care about world poverty? I mean, was Bono thinking about a social conscience when he sued his former Joshua Tree stylist for the Stetson he 'gave' her on the final night of the tour? Is Robbie Williams giving any of his increased royalties resulting from the Live 8 concerts to World Aid? Are the activists still sipping on Starbucks or chilling with a Coke?
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