Post Mortem

Thanks to all who wrote to Granny yesterday. Like everyone else, home and away, who had connections - or more - with London, she spent most of the day - when she was not phoning/texting/emailing friends and family to find out if they were OK -in front of the television set. At least two beloveds she knew could have been in the middle of it all. As the day went on, and the precise details came out, it became clearer that they ought to have missed it. They had. She got the final reassurance at 8pm.

Perspective begins to assert itself. It is appalling to see streets you have trodden many times over, stations you have taken trains from often and often, spewing out streams of bloodied and distraught people. Especially when you imagine ones you care about among them. At the same time, Granny feels grateful that the emergency services functioned so wonderfully and promptly, thereby saving so many lives. Grateful too that even the final toll will clearly be much lower than that of Madrid, let alone 9/11. She also thinks of Iraq where such horrors are suffered daily. How can the experience of Londoners, dreadful as it was, compare? None of us for one moment should forget that.

Other things too. She spoke to her son last night - he does not work in central London, she'd had no fears for him. None the less family communication matters a lot at such times. 'I'm glad you rang,' he said. And then: 'Milly has something to tell you which might help cheer you up.' On comes middle granddaughter aged 7. 'I'VE GOT A WOBBLY TOOTH!' (Belated; and her first.)

Life goes on.