Urban Fox (with cub): July 2005

I've been thinking about the language used by the extremists. They title every single 'Westerner' as 'infidels'. However, ‘The West’ is not one entity of unanimous and identical opinion and action. Our opinions and actions are so widely varied. It's like saying every Muslim is an extremist. It's blatantly incorrect. I suspect it's easier to murder and maim if you don't think on the individuals, and instead assign a unified blanket identity to every single 'Westerner'. I didn't vote for 'Bliar', I don't support the Iraq war, and I detest George 'Protect my Daddy's Oil' Bush. That makes me different from the politicians in power. But does it matter to these people?

Congratulations!
Little Frederick John Bell (Freddie) was welcomed into the world on Saturday July 23rd, 2005. Mother and baby are both doing well. Congratulations to Iain and Cesca!

There’s sirens blaring, the news websites keep crashing with the number of people trying to find out what’s going on, most of London now knows a man (a suicide bomber?) was shot dead on a train this morning, and how do Londoners react?

1) http://www.werenotafraid.com
2) Random quotes from various websites:

"We took on the Romans, the Saxons, the Danes, the French, William Wallace, the Black Plague, the Roundheads, the Great Fire, Napoleon, the Nazis, and the Blitz, and we're still here. You terrorists are bloody amateurs."

"Al Qaeda say: 'Britain is now burning with fear, terror and panic in its northern, southern, eastern, and western quarters.' Bitch, please. Osama, you live in a fucking cave. You're like an evil Batman or something. No wonder you have a thing for blowing up commuters, because you will never commute because you live in a cave. You see transport, and you are filled with rage, because you? Live in a cave. You could try forming a political wing to... oh, wait, you can't because YOU LIVE IN A CAVE. Twat."

'I work with some Muslims. They're furious about the attacks, and about what these extremists do in the name of Islam. Every Muslim I've met who tries hard to follow the faith has been kind, generous, gentle and Good. Al Quaeda have done huge harm to the Muslim community in Britain and around the World - but I want to say here that there's people out there who know the real score. Good is good. Peace and love to you, wherever you are.'

"No, really, we're not scared. You can try and kill as many people as you want, you're still going to lose because we're just that damn British. Also? Notice those docks and airports? Still open to the freedom loving folk. Suck it, bitch."

'Coping with emergencies the British way: The nearest branch of Pret has sold out of chocolate cake.'

And this is why the terrorists will never succeed.

Little fishy Lauren practising for her swimming lessons!

Roz on her family's farm in Badgingarra (no idea how to spell that!) with my princess of a niece Lauren feeding a lamb. I forget how green the country can get during the winter!

News Flash
More devices detonated simultaneously today, no explosions just small detonations that have been described as like 'a champagne cork popping', creating a lot of odd smelling smoke. Really odd time of day, and really odd locations - not the most central apart from Warren Street. The initial adrenalin rush has abated, and now I'm wondering how I get home. The trains are running in my area, just really delayed. Londoners are going about life as normal, the trains and buses will be full, there's a sense of getting on with it again.

President, sorry, Prime Minister, Johnny Howard is in town (funny how he coincided this visit with the Ashes) and just gave a great press interview where, in response to a journalist's comment that Iraq is to blame, he pointed out that Australia was named as a target by Bin Laden following the 'liberation of East Timor'.

Australia is currently being spanked in the cricket by the way, thanks boys, the office has been gleefully giving me updates all afternoon, although I've had my sweet revenge thus far with England at 39/5!

Time to trek home. Au revoir.

Dublin, July 14 - 18. A pint of the Black Gold. We had such a relaxed, thoroughly chilled, much needed long weekend away. My stress levels dropped down to pretty much zero, I could have listened to the Irish accent for hours on end, and I realised I was getting old when, after attending mass at St Patrick's Cathedral, I went and bought a CD of the choir so I could listening to their pure, soaring, soul calming music at home (I used to be so rock and roll!). The mass sermon included mention of the bombings in London, which unexpectedly set me off and I struggled to keep it all in. After I partook of the wafer and wine (lovely drop, I'll take a bottle!) I let a few tears fall thinking about the pain caused by unecessary deaths. But, life goes on. Stu had a fabulous 30th birthday weekend, I enjoyed a wonderful weekend, and for a while, life was truly great :)

There was some excellent graffiti around Dublin, of which this is a sample. None of this 'X was 'ere' stuff. It's quite a hotch potch of a city, which I really liked. As we walking along one of the main streets, we had to side step a homeless man who had just decided that the best place to light up and smoke his mini-cigar was flat on his back in the middle of the pavement. Respect.

Moi at the Guiness factory in my new cargos.

My scrumptious dinner on Stu's birthday at the Mermaid restaurant, which we can highly recommend. It was stupendous! And we got a tip from another couple dining to try the Market Bar for our next dinner, which served absolutely divine tapas. Happiness all around :) Actually the food in Dublin we had was just fantastic, I was well impressed.

We were followed home by this handsome furry chap in full Ireland rugby kit. We just had to keep him. He's been christened Brendan Seamus McCarthy and is fitting into London life well.

Birthday boy with his pint of real Oirish Guiness in the Gravity Bar - at the very top of the brewery with fabulous 360 degree views over Dublin.

The sphere outside the library at Trinity College. Standing where I took this picture you can see buildings from the 16th, 17th, 18th, 19th and 20th centuries! Trinity certainly was an incredible place to stay.

Look who we bumped into at Dublin airport. It's Liam Gallagher from Oasis! I missed a shot of Noel as well, he was too quick! Oasis played a gig on the Saturday night...

I got them post-holiday blues...

Tuesday, back at work, would rather be back sitting in a Dublin pub with a pint of Bulmers.

Had a brilliant weekend in Dublin, Stu had a great birthday, we didn't watch any TV or listen to any radio and I only read the news headlines on a paper twice, so it was a real proper break away from London and all the goings on.

Had to come through Kings Cross this morning to get to the rural campus near Potters Bar. With a small suitcase as I am going straight from here back to Kings Cross and out again to the airport to fly to Dublin. I made a point of pulling out my Dublin guidebook and reading it with the cover in full view of anyone who looked at me and my bag on the tube.

At Kings Cross there was a lone policeman on the platform. However, once I exited through the barriers, I looked up to see two sniffer dogs – trained to detect explosives - who had a good sniff around my bags. That sent an electric bolt through my stomach. Five police were posted at intervals up the stairs and out of the station. They’ve closed most of the exits and entrances so that everyone has to go through fixed points where they are watched. I ended up across the road, and had to detour back to get into the station where the overland trains leave from.

This took me past all the TV cameras, the hundreds of floral bouquets, flags from across the world (the Australian flag brought a huge lump to my throat), a book of remembrance with a queue of people waiting to sign it, volunteers from the Samaritans and Salvation Army, and (I was counting) at least 37 police officers at short intervals throughout the entire complex. Many were holding large signs asking for information – footage taken with phone cameras and videos by the general public that might contain a clue, and all were highly alert. I wanted to go and look at all the flowers on my way past, but I wasn’t sure I could keep it together. And as there were at least 8 cameras trained on them waiting for some good footage, I didn't want it to be me.

At this point in time, I know the police presence is vital. I know having sniffer dogs is vital. But it brought the events of last week all rushing into my face at speed. Four young men blew themselves up on trains last week. Four young British born and raised men attacked their homeland. Raised properly by their parents to be good kids, good people. What happened? What went wrong? Who taught them to hate? I want to understand why. Because at the moment it makes absolutely no sense to me.

I am at the rural campus today, and we are shortly going to go outside the main building, by the flag pole where the flag is at half mast, and observe two minute’s silence. I am going to remember not just the victims of last week, but the children who died in Iraq yesterday, and indeed all of the victims of suicide bombings in Iraq, and across the globe. People who died in the name of, what? Madness.

Tonight I fly to Dublin, tomorrow I drink Guinness and celebrate Stu's birthday, and salute - life? Sanity? Compassion? Tolerance? Understanding? All things good and loving. Tell those you love that you love them. Seek to put a smile on one person's face every single day. Seek to put a little hope in one person's life every single day. Live with kindness and compassion. Live with love for others. Stay strong.

Moving forward. Moving on.

I'm trying very hard to not focus on the bombing. I'm going to go back to boring you with my normal day to day existence and photos. Starting with what we had for dinner last night.

And that we're flying to Dublin for Stu's birthday on Thursday night.

And that my tomato plants are growing magnificently and there are loads of tomatoes starting to appear on them.

And that our life has to be a balance of looking forward, reflecting back, and living for here and now.

Thai-inspired Carrot, coriander and coconut milk soup with Coconut Chicken
(serves 4, or 2 very hungry people twice)

Coconut Chicken
4 chicken or turkey breasts chopped into goujons
¼ -ish can of coconut milk (approx 100mL)
2 cloves garlic peeled and finely diced or crushed
1 cm peeled and finely diced ginger
Splash of soy sauce to taste
Splash of sweet chilli to taste

1) Place chicken in non-metallic bowl and add the coconut milk, garlic, ginger, and sauces to taste. Stir it around, and leave it to marinate for at least 30 minutes.
2) Once the soup is cooked, heat a griddle pan til smoking and char grill the chicken until cooked – pour marinade over the chicken while cooking.
3) Chop cooked chicken into bite sized pieces.

Soup
750g carrots peeled and roughly chopped
2 small red onions diced
2 cloves garlic peeled and sliced
1-2 cm peeled and sliced ginger
1 potato peeled and diced
1L vegetable or chicken stock
Handful fresh coriander
1 tablespoon garam masala
1 teaspoon chilli flakes (or less for less heat)
¾-ish can coconut milk (approx 300mL)

1) Gently cook the onion, garlic and ginger until the onion is translucent.
2) Add the carrots, potato, vegetable stock, garam masala and chilli flakes.
3) Simmer for 15 minutes, then add the coconut milk and heat through.
4) Remove from heat, add the coriander and blend until the vegetables are pureed.

To serve – Pour the soup into a bowl and place the chicken in a pile in the middle! Yum!

We made this recipe up last night and ate it in the warm evening air on the back terrace, watching the sunset sky. Was lovely and simple and peaceful.

From an article written by John Simpson:

'Countering political violence isn't easy. It takes rigid self-discipline on the part of government and people. And it takes a degree of proportion and self-awareness too. Thursday was a terrible day for London; yet we mustn't forget that much the same number of people died that day in Iraq, and no one dedicated acres of newsprint to them.

We must hunt the bombers down, because they have committed a vicious crime against society. But we mustn't throw away the calm and self-possession which every decent society needs. It's not weakness; it's our greatest strength.'

Read the full article here:
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/uk/4671577.stm

Life Goes On.

I went back on the tube on Saturday. It was a weird day. I'd asked Stu for some time alone and he kindly went off to the movies with Pete. I just didn't know what to do with myself. I played Splinter Cell on the XBox, I went back to bed but couldn't sleep, tried to read my trashy magazine but had no interest in any of it, I wandered from room to room in my pyjamas just not knowing what to do. Thought about calling friends and family but didn't know what I would say. Went back to the 24 hour news channel and stared at the scenes before finally deciding that I would try to make real these unreal scenes. That I would go to Kings Cross station, and Tavistock Place, and Russell Square. And so I did. I boarded a bus to the tube station, found a carriage with no one in it, and went two stops to Finchley Road where I changed for the Metropolitan Line that would take me to Kings Cross. It was eeriely quiet, and I studied every single person and bag before committing to walking on and sitting down. My blood pressure was through the roof and my heart going quadruple time. My imagination was surging. The trains are overland until Finchley Road, that's the point they disappear underneath the urban landscape. Once underground I actively slowed my breathing and got on with it. Trying to remember how I travelled on the tube previously. Not being aware of the movement, or other people, just thinking about all the things on my mental 'to do' list, the highs and lows of my day. It was a challenge. I was wondering about my life, all the things I'm still to do, the lives of the people who died, all the things they'd still to do. I found myself studying the faces and body language of everyone who got on at every stop. And found they were studying me too.

These flowers were at Kings Cross. A priest in long black robes mingled with the crowd. An Imam wandered around. Police in luminescent yellow jackets sombrely studied every passerby. A fire truck and its crew sat parked next to the station entrance. Camera crews from around the world were taking photographs and transmitting live broadcasts in front of posters put up by desperate friends and family trying to find missing loved ones. There was a low background murmur, achingly sombre and sad.

Tavistock Square was covered at every entrance by huge canvases, in order for the forensic work on the bus to be conducted in private. There was a small section allowing photographers with metre-long telephoto lenses to get their pictures to sell to the press, and through there I saw the bus in the distance. Surreal, torn, twisted metal. That anyone survived is incredible. These canvases were at Russell Square tube station as well, a two-minute walk from my university. Familiar oft-trod ground.

I walked from Kings Cross down to Soho. Ambled through unknown streets lost in my own thoughts. I have nothing profound to say. I have no answers. I have the privilege of going home and seeing and talking to my friends and family, of continuing on with my life.

London is getting on with it. The buses are full again - the drivers look you up and down as you board, something they didn't used to do, the tubes were quieter than usual this weekend, but on Monday they will be back to the usual sardine tin again. Someone said if you feel scared, if you change the way you live, then they've won. I used to agree, but realise now that no one wins. The murderers have gained nothing - no cultural or political or social or geographical gain. The victims and their families have lost so much. No one wins. You shake off the shock, and stuff away the fear, and move forward. You have to.

Today was the most beautiful sunny day. I'm one of the lucky ones.

Happy 5th birthday to Thomas...when did you get to be five years old?? We had such a life-affirmingly great day - it was hot (30 degrees) and the heat on my skin was indescribably wonderful, the boys were laughing and playing, and the sound of their innocent childish joy and focus on the moment was magical, the BBQ food was fantastic - coconuty prawns and salmon, spicy chicken, setting my taste buds alight, and the boys unselfishly allowing their Aunty Jodie to repeatedly haul them onto her lap for a cuddle and a kiss all afternoon settled my soul. Happy Birthday Thomas.

Poor little Arthur poppet, got a bit tangled in the new football (soccer) goal while trying to retrieve the ball!!

Sleepy Arthur watching a Star Wars DVD with Uncle Stu. Bless his cotton socks, not long after we arrived Arthur shouted out across the room 'Jodie! I love you!'. And yes, my heart melted...

Five Year Old Thomas (or should that be the next Jenson Button?) in his new racing car driver dressup present from Uncle Stu and Aunty Jodie.

Stu was surprised with an early 30th birthday cake - big thank you to Steph and Hamish for thinking of and arranging such a lovely surprise for the Birthday Boy :)

Stu and I are both safe. All of our friends, and our friends' friends are accounted for and safe. London is hauling itself back to its feet, trains are running, buses are running, but people are in a state of disbelief. It's surreal watching TV footage of places I walk regularly, tube lines I travel on frequently, lined with ambulances, body bags, forensic police. That murder on this scale should occur in my back yard makes no sense to me. London is one of the most multicultural cities I've ever experienced. We live side-by-side and together - colour, race, religion, it makes no difference, we coexist, for the most part peacefully and comfortably. Why kill and maim ordinary people, of every colour, race and religion, who were just going about their daily lives? These weren't the decision-makers, the war-mongerers, the invaders, the politicians - these were everyday people just getting on with living in their every day way. Their deaths change nothing on a global or political scale. What did the murderers hope to achieve?

Fear is not instilled in the hearts of anyone. If anything, London is giving a huge 'F**k Y**' to the terrorists by having public transport up and running within 24 hours and people going straight back into the city. We are not cowed. We are not afraid. We are getting up and getting on with it.

It was never a case of 'if there is a terrorist attack', it was always, always, a case of 'when'. And, today, at least 50 people are dead - fathers, mothers, sons, daughters, sisters, brothers. Today the bodies are being recovered from the trains and bus. Today families are receiving phone calls that people should never have to receive. Today the questions begin - who did this? Could this have been prevented? How do we make sure it never happens again?

Thank you for all your texts and emails. The network was heavily congested yesterday so I apologise if you didn't hear from me for quite a while - I was trying to get through, and I know some of the texts got lost. Take good care. And tell the people you love that you love them.