Remembering 7/7

The first thing that touched me this week was the anniversary of 7/7. Unfortunately the day was majorly overshadowed by the media coverage of Michael Jackson's funeral. I do understand that he was a legend, it's terrible for the family etc but 52 people died on the 7th July 2005. I read in the Metro that a new monument was unveiled in London. It looked really impressive.

I really want to research what happened that day and write some poems about it. It's one of those things you know you will always remember where you were when you found out. I had my driving theory test that day so was up really early, think the test was at around 9. I actually got the train to the test centre, at the time this was a rarity for me as I was getting the bus to work in Widnes library. Anyway I passed the test with flying colours, was ecstatic,and got into work around 11, excited about telling people.

I got into the staff room and people were saying "isn't it awful what's happened in London." I had no idea what they were talking about. I just remember after that going to look at the plasma screens downstairs and the image that has always stayed with me - of the top of the double decker bus completely blown off. A friend of my sister's was in Tavistock square and apparently he helped somebody who fell over.

It's quite crazy that 52 people died. The same number of weeks we have in a year. I don't know how many people were injured; physically, emotionally, it's the type of experience that would stay with you forever.

Whenever something like this happens, I struggle to understand the mentality of the people responsible. You could say they're mentally unstable, but that's too much of an easy get out clause. Of course mental health is a terribly misunderstood entity, but I think in the 21st century people are far too easy to shrug the blame onto other people's shouders.

Last year I lived near London for 6 months and I was a bit edgy going on the tube at first. Pretty soon I got over it -if you were like that about everything you'd never cross the street would you? I remember clearly going into the Natural History Museum and the V&A having my bag searched. The first time I was shocked but after that I just expected it. I even had my bag searched at the cinema recently, alhtough I think they do that to make sure no-one secretly films the movie.

I still don't feel as though this tragedy has been given the respect and memory it deserves. I was angry that there was not even one programme on Tuesday to look at what happened. A quick mention on a news story, followed by 3 hours of a suprstar's funeral. God's not in his heaven, all wrong with the world.


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