7/7
Just over a month has passed but the sick, sad, hopeless feeling remains. I was there and lucky. I think about the dead or wounded – most were always seconds away from me – wrong place, wrong time – mostly drawn to Kings Cross underground in the morning rush hour because we all have to earn a crust. The newspaper photographs make each lucky survivor cry. Many of us still here are beyond the victims’ time with less talent and joy left to give. Many of them, like thousands of us, will have always hated tubes and trains. We’re always hoping for the meeting to be cancelled or the trip to be postponed and, selfishly, never more so than now. For thirty years, from the IRA bombings, through train and tube disasters, we’ve always known the underground might be our tomb.
So, there was calm acceptance, no surprise, as we evacuated Kings Cross and no surprise as we saw the shocked and walking wounded at Russell Square tube. But I swear the blood drained from everyone’s face, and the shock remains with us today, from the bang of the blown up bus behind us. By now we were watching the telly and sipping our cappuccinos, just a stone’s throw away in ‘Night and Day’ in Upper Woburn Place.
We stayed put and impotent. How I wish I’d learned first aid. What use is writing when there are bodies to be mended and minds to be calmed? So, bloody useless – you want to help but you can’t dredge up anything useful you can do.
And the television presenter still told us about a suspected power surge and the pictures still showed the scenes of an hour previous. Damn this ‘official’ manipulation of the media – we’ve been sickened by it for years from every country the US decides to carpet bomb for wealth or ‘regime change’ or ‘to democratise’ or ‘strike first’ or whatever sound bite rationale works best for this omnipotent ‘grand acquisitor’*. Here we hated the trickery on Ireland, WMD and Kelly but somehow media manipulation and government spin has always hurt more when you immediately know the truth.
Within hours I was walking away from the carnage towards Oxford Street, now a film set ghost town, brightly lit with a teeth searing, ear piercing, soundtrack of sirens and helicopters. 7.5 hours later I was drinking London Pride, appropriate I felt, in one of the few bars still open. 24 hours later I was walking through London, not yet brave enough to use the underground, going to a pointless meeting where people would pontificate, pout and preen and be ‘strategic’ to earn a crust whilst useful, real workers, hero-citizens are mining the tunnels to find those that no longer could.
So, if ever there was a day to understand fate but vow to control what one can control of your ‘working’ destiny – this was it. It may be a time to think about leaving the rat race and stripping for freedom. It may be a time to stop commuting, even work from home. It may be a time to fully utilise your talents, sacrificing earnings and status for something more worthwhile. It may be a time to give support and joy to others. It may be a time to start a new entrepreneurial journey with you at the wheel. A month on though, each new journey of mine still comes with a bloodless companion.
* ‘grand acquisitor’ is a term coined by Philip Gigantes in the excellent book ‘Power and Greed – a short history of the world’
There’s a lot more help for professionals and executives going it alone, including the new ‘Rat Race Escape Kit’ at www.entrepreneursuk.com
