7/7
Much like 11th September 2001, I vividly remember where I was and what I was doing on 7th July 2005. I was by that point a 6th Form student at Charles Darwin School and the news that there had been a series of explosions across the London Underground network in London filtered through the radio in the common room. The room continued to hum with the normal sorts of activity, but what I had just heard was all I could think about.
A history lesson followed, during which our teacher permitted us to follow the updates on BBC1. I spent the rest of the day at home in front of the TV, transfixed. I was inadequately prepared for the news of terrorism coming to my doorstep.
I was due to go and see Sum 41 at the Astoria that evening. Obviously I don't consider missing that gig to be any great hardship. Doubtless the majority of those reading this would agree. I flag this up mainly because it represents what London was to me at the time. I absolutely love going to gigs. I doubt I'm unique in that. But at their very best, gigs gets me out of my head for an evening. Hugh Laurie once said he knew his depression had returned because he would attend motor racing events and be completely unmoved by the action. I can chart my depression to the times I've watched bands whose music I love on stage and felt absolutely nothing at all.
London therefore was the place that provided this badly needed respite. I've lived in Greater London for the overwhelming majority of my life. I've found it very easy to be negative about it. At various points over the years, I've taken the city and everything that it has to offer for granted. As I walked away from my university reunion on Saturday, wandering through Soho, Chinatown and Leicester Square back to Charing Cross, I saw a huge variety of different faces, young and old, enjoying their Saturday night in the bustling city. It made me feel invigorated in a way that I hadn't been for a long time.
You can see the same variety of different faces across the pages commemorating those who died that day. Mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, boyfriends, girlfriends, husbands, wives, aunts and uncles from across the globe pointlessly slaughtered. Remembering that day, I am struck by a profound sense of sadness.
Ultimately, as Ken Livingstone said, the terrorists did fail to keep us living in fear. Being in the city on Saturday night was enough to convince me of that. The aftermath of that day showed the best of London and made me feel proud to live here.
Sum 41 rescheduled at the Forum in Kentish Town two weeks later. For me there was an additional sense of poignancy about that show. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't reticent about returning to the Tube. But I wouldn't have missed that gig for anything. Pop-punk goes on. London goes on. We go on.
A history lesson followed, during which our teacher permitted us to follow the updates on BBC1. I spent the rest of the day at home in front of the TV, transfixed. I was inadequately prepared for the news of terrorism coming to my doorstep.
I was due to go and see Sum 41 at the Astoria that evening. Obviously I don't consider missing that gig to be any great hardship. Doubtless the majority of those reading this would agree. I flag this up mainly because it represents what London was to me at the time. I absolutely love going to gigs. I doubt I'm unique in that. But at their very best, gigs gets me out of my head for an evening. Hugh Laurie once said he knew his depression had returned because he would attend motor racing events and be completely unmoved by the action. I can chart my depression to the times I've watched bands whose music I love on stage and felt absolutely nothing at all.
London therefore was the place that provided this badly needed respite. I've lived in Greater London for the overwhelming majority of my life. I've found it very easy to be negative about it. At various points over the years, I've taken the city and everything that it has to offer for granted. As I walked away from my university reunion on Saturday, wandering through Soho, Chinatown and Leicester Square back to Charing Cross, I saw a huge variety of different faces, young and old, enjoying their Saturday night in the bustling city. It made me feel invigorated in a way that I hadn't been for a long time.
You can see the same variety of different faces across the pages commemorating those who died that day. Mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, boyfriends, girlfriends, husbands, wives, aunts and uncles from across the globe pointlessly slaughtered. Remembering that day, I am struck by a profound sense of sadness.
Ultimately, as Ken Livingstone said, the terrorists did fail to keep us living in fear. Being in the city on Saturday night was enough to convince me of that. The aftermath of that day showed the best of London and made me feel proud to live here.
Sum 41 rescheduled at the Forum in Kentish Town two weeks later. For me there was an additional sense of poignancy about that show. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't reticent about returning to the Tube. But I wouldn't have missed that gig for anything. Pop-punk goes on. London goes on. We go on.
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