Alive and Well in London

After the terrible terrorist attacks in London yesterday I just wanted send my best wishes and condolences to any of my British readers who may have been caught up in the brouhaha. It’s a shocking state of affairs but I’m glad to say that the British have been coping with that usual mix of stoicism and grim humour that I love about them.

Readers of this blog will know that I’m living in London at the moment. I was tucked up in bed with a chest infection when the bombs went off and wasn’t even aware of the attack until my mum rang asking me if I’d been blown up on the Piccadilly Line under Russell Square. The fact that I’d picked up the phone should have allayed her fears but for some reason it didn’t. Nor did my assurances that I was taking something for my cough.

That’s one of the downsides of global satelittes and 24-Hour News Programmes – your mother hears about flash floods and terrorist attacks in the town you’re living in long before you do. My mother, 20,000 km away in Queensland, knew about bombs that went off less than 10 kilometres from where I live, before I did. What’s more, she’d seen the pictures.

Thanks to those same global satelittes though, my mum’s mind was (almost) immediately put at rest. She is still convinced that some deadly biological agents have been released into the air (I reassured her they couldn’t be any worse than the air already down there on the tube) but at least knows that bad news and good is only a phone call away.