Evening Standard

Everyone seems to be reading the Evening Standard tonight. It seems to be wholey devoted to the "terror attacks" today; as you might expect. The attacks that have murdered at least 35 people who expected to see their wives, husbands, children, families again tonight. People whose wive, husbands, children and family will never see alive again.

My sister, naive as to my route to work, had thought perhaps the same fates had fallen to myself and herself respectively. I did not realise such confusion were possible - I was a spectator just as they were. Until their worried texts were eventually delivered to my phone I hadn't thought they would be envisiging me caught up in it all. I have no idea how long it took for the five texts, from the five people who no-doubt care about me the most, to come through. How long were they battling against thinking the worst? My mom told me later that my sister was in tears with worry because she'd not heard from me. I should have realised that to others my connection with "London" made me more than just the observer I saw myself as.

Shortly after my mom had phoned me at work to check my continuing well-being on this earth, the texts came through, in pairs, once the saturation of the network had subsided or the block was released.