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.