i remember the day of the bomb.
time tends to speed up or slow down at
just the moments you don't want it to. the day at work had been a bit
draggy, end of the week finishing off shit, the sort of things i
couldn't just leave and come in at the weekend to do. all day it was
bitty work. the gap between the tick and tock of the clock seemed to
be minutes rather than seconds.
then, as ever, around 5 o'clock when
all sensible people are leaving i get dragged into a phone call and
dealing with a customer. yeah thanks. still no worries an hour before
i have to worry about getting out of the warehouse so that i can get
to the game on time.
just how long can this take?
now the gaps between the ticks and
tocks are whizzing by and the clock is moving like the devil is on
its tail.
a niggle, a worry that i am going to
miss the game. can't miss the game it is an important one for the
championship and it is our cross town rivals: leopards versus the
london towers, and i have never missed a home game.
as the call continues more and more
staff are leaving.
shit i am going to be left to close the
warehouse up. piss on a stick.
finally get the call to end.
gone 6pm. don't have much time.
make sure everyone is out of the
warehouse.
lock up downstairs.
check no one is left in the offices
upstairs. chub the door. do my ablutions, get my bag ready. one more
check that everything is locked and turned off.
set the alarm. slam the shutters and
fit the locks.
done.
now get to the game.
walk run to the station, can still make
the start, i can still do it. no i can. just a bit of huff and puff
and i will be there.
mmm looks a bit overcast, hope i get
there before it rains.
bit of luck there is a dlr coming in.
phew caught it.
going to make it, going to make it.
bloody thing has stopped. why?
oh come on just a few more stops and we
are there. come on. move you bastard.
this train is out of service please
change at the next station, west india quay. sod it i can run from
here (well maybe shuffle) i can still get there for the first
quarter.
spits of rain in the air not much but i
can feel it.
still a bit grey overhead – but be
getting dark soon.
running down westferry road aiming to
go down marsh wall road – i am sure there is a quicker way but i
don't know my way around here that well and i really have to get
there. flash of light, big bang. fuck me it is going to storm and i
am going to get caught in it. shit.
oi you where do you think you are
going?
it's a copper shouting at me, why?
off to the basketball match.
don't you know area has been cordoned
off?
no?
didn't you hear it?
what?
the bomb?
what bomb?
(the copper is looking at me as if i am
a total retard who is having a very bad day)
the one that just went off.
oh!
can i get around if i go the other way.
i've got tickets (as if that explains and justifies everything).
he dismissively waves at me – an
expression of well it's your funeral on his face.
i run off down westferry road.
run. walk. jog. walk. run. jog. gotta
get to the game.
go past one of the tower blocks. glass
from windows carpets the forecourts
get the arena. i am on time as the game
as been delayed. of course it has.
then it struck me i have run towards an
ira bomb.
i have continued running into a
potential site for a second bomb.
i am in a packed arena in an area where
there might be another bomb.
what
the
fuck
as i watch the game – a little less
involved in the lacklustre action then normal – all i can think is
i ran towards a bomb, i ran towards a bomb, i ran towards a bomb. a
fucking big bomb. a big fucking bomb.
can't remember who won. didn't really
care.
we had to walk back from the arena. a
bit more caution, a bit more fear. area swamped with police and army
doing checks and clear up. loads of ambulance and fire brigade on
hand just in case. huge numbers of press – big outside broadcast
vans, small outside broadcast vans, reporters with backpacks and
microphones. all looking for the big story or anything they could
fill the airwaves with .
as we walked you could see more of the
damage done by the shock wave: broken windows, buckled doors, damaged
cars. eerily quiet.
was glad to get home.
it wasn't to be my last run in with a
bomb – i would be near by the 7/7 attack at floodgate. i would be
close by the brick lane and wardour street bombings as well. for a
bit there i was getting paranoid, but just my natural bad luck.
fingers crossed it will be a while
before i get caught up in something like that again – much prefer
dull to that sort of excitement.
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