Remembering July 7, 2005

Friday will mark the first anniversary of last year's suicide bombing on the tube. Garry and I were in London at the time, watching the entire event unfold live on Sky News. Two minutes of silence is scheduled for noon on Friday. The papers say that travelers on the Underground will also be asked to participate. I must admit I'm not so sure I'd want to be reminded of such an incident while waiting on a narrow platform 20-metres below the street.

I catch the tube every day, but generally don't stop to think about terrorism. With so many people getting on and off the tube at every station you soon realise that it's impossible to protect yourself. I worry more about being trapped by fire than being caught up in a terrorist act. When you see how narrow the passageways are, and how many people are crowded into them, it's clear that a serious fire would spell certain doom.

I do find myself occassionally double-checking any large bag and its owner in my carriage. This psychological reassurance works fine on most tube lines except the Piccadilly line. This line goes to Heathrow so every carriage is inevitably filled with people taking large luggage items either to or from the airport. On these occasions I'm tempted to stand next to a large bag so that, should my time be up, the end will be blindingly quick and painless.

In all honesty, terrorism isn't the thing that makes me fear for my safety. Every week you hear about someone that's stabbed or beaten in the street or on the bus. Random acts of violence against strangers seem far more common in London that your average suicide bomber. I guess this is a hallmark of living in such a large city. The frequency of such attacks makes me feel less safe in the UK than I ever did in Sydney. Garry reassures me that this sort of violence happens in Sydney all the time. Somehow that doesn't really comfort me.