Sleep brings escape

So it's finally happened. The mass terror attack on London's antiquated and overstretched transport system that we have all been fearing and expecting since Blair joined Bush's bandwagon war on terror is now upon us. Tragically, as we always knew it would be, it was all too easy for the attackers and one can only imagine the grim, unbearable horrors that rush-hour commuters on the three trains and one bus involved faced this morning.
I have been glued to the news all day (switching channels whenever Michael Howard turned up to give a statement) and cannot help but be overwhelmed and humbled at my own lucky escape. I am currently employed in the Holborn area and use the Piccadilly Line through Kings Cross and Russell Square on a daily basis, normally passing through some time close to 9am. But today Dave and I were somehow unwilling to rise and slumbered on long past the blare of our alarm clock, and my laziness for once possibly saved my life. (Vices proving merciful is a recurrent theme for us this year it seems - it was our stinginess not wanting to pay the extra 200 pounds it would have cost us to go for Christmas that prevented us from being in Sri Lanka when the tsunami struck on Boxing Day.) By the time I reached Finsbury Park station, the entire tube service had been shut down. We had been warned of this by an automatic announcement at Harringay station, but none of us believed it and so had continued on our way once a train finally arrived. ("There are no London Underground services this morning" the announcement said. We just assumed it had left a line or a couple of station names off.) The problem was initially claimed to be a power surge and instantly everyone wondered how the hell London was seriously thinking itself capable of hosting the Olympic games when it could have its entire transport network shut down by electrical faults. However, outside Finsbury Park station, there were enough rumours of explosions coming from mobile phone conversations and such evident chaos that it was an easy decision to stop standing around tutting and slip off home again to find out some sensible and more accurate facts. I had thought I'd take a 91 bus from Crouch End into Holborn later in the day, but news of the explosion on the number 30 bus in Tavistock Square (bang in the middle of the 91 route) and the entire cordoning off of the Bloomsbury area quickly put paid to such ideas.
So here I am, safely in our Crouch End lounge, unbelieving, shocked, angry and relieved all at once. Dave is trying to get home from Barnet, where out of town bus services are still running. I won't feel comfortable until he is back here with me. Sadly, I fear there will be many couples in London tonight who won't be as lucky.

REBECCA