Steve Lovegrove

Only just getting better.

2008-07-14T02:55:00.000-07:00

I felt the need to post on here again after a long break; I just feel I’ve got so much to get out. I watched the 2 documentaries re: 7/7 on Channel 4 this week, and while found them hard to watch, ultimately, in reflection, feel better for doing so. I feel that finally after 3 years things really are starting to get better.

The last 6 months has been by far the hardest of all. The first 6 months I was just numb, and it was ok to still be bothered about what happened, the next few years were tough, but I still hoped things would work out, and that symptoms of PTSD would eventually dwindle, but after 2 & ½ years I started to try and force it out of my life and my mind, I was sick of it. And the more I tried to push it out, the more it came back, only with more vigor, and aggression.

Every train journey to work became a frantic imagining of disaster, I would wonder if someone had laid a sleeper across the track to de-rail us, what if the train caught fire, if we hit another train, and of course, what if the guy next to me had a bomb in his toolbox/bag/suitcase etc etc. Only my logic told me that if it was to happen again, it would be too obvious for it to be another young bloke with a home made bomb, so I would watch for what EVERYONE else was doing, and imagine how they might attack us. Then I would plan what I would do in each situation, how I would stem bleeding, and comfort people, try to calm the situation. The same would happen as a passenger in a car, and most terrifyingly, on aeroplanes. So every day would become a traumatic event in itself, in just as much detail as the one that really happened. It was on a flight back from Milan that I had my first mega panic attack; I thought I was going to have a heart attack. But all I could see was flames rushing down the plane at us.

After this I thought I was losing my mind, I felt I couldn’t control my thoughts and worried I would end up in mental hospital. I would break down all the time, and go out randomly wandering the streets, not wanting to go home, but not wanting to go anywhere. I really felt I was going mad. There were a few weeks when I was really close to killing myself to escape it. I think I was as close to doing it as you can get, without actually doing it. I thought about hanging myself, throwing myself under a train, even going back to King’s Cross and throwing myself under that train because I never really felt like I ever got out of there. I didn’t have a clue what was happening to me, and why I was getting WORSE after 2 & ½ years. I also in the midst of all this broke up with my girlfriend, she had helped me so much, but I felt bad for taking that from her, and ultimately didn’t know what I was thinking, or how I felt about things. It wasn’t fair on her.

I also didn’t know why I was worrying about all this, and not mourning the death of my mother, now 18 months ago. Her death was in itself sudden, I found out she had terminal cancer a day before she died. It is the fact all this distracted me from giving my mum the attention she deserves that angers me most about the bombs. The fact that in the middle of my most traumatic time, I missed out on processing her death, and am only now just beginning to work through that, now there is space for it.

But it is also, a reason why I think things worked out better in some ways too. Because after 7/7 I had to move home, and would tell everyone about what happened, over and over again. But it was hardest at night when I was on my own, except I was never really on my own, because Mum, with her crazy sleeping patterns would always be up. So she was always there to talk to at the hardest times, when I couldn’t sleep at 2.30am, or had an awful nightmare. And I got to be with her for the last 18months of her life, which I would have largely missed if I had been working away.

Things are LOTS better now. I had CBT therapy, and all I can say is that it really works. My therapist gave me a hard time, in a good way, and questioned and queried and contorted all my negative thought patterns related to the bombing and public transport. Till I learnt that, actually I didn’t have to stay in a constantly prepared state, and that I didn’t need to worry or process it anymore. I was done. And now after watching the recent documentaries, I really feel like it is done with. Yeah, I got really upset watching them, and if I think about that day I can bring it all back right down to second by second events. But then I am always going to remember it, and it will always be a horrible memory, but that’s all it is, a memory.

So now I feel like I am only just starting my career, re-starting my life. While I have worked over the past 3 years, it has only been the odd bit of freelance work, and a full days work would only be about 3 hours worth because that’s all I could do in the state I was in, if I could work at all. But it gave me something else to worry about, a tiny respite within all the other bad stuff that was constantly in my head.

I am now in the process of re-branding my business, finding premises and hopefully some grants to pay for materials, and cover some rent. I am going to advertise my skills, and hopefully be successful. Watch this space, or as soon as I have a business website up, I will link it, and you can watch that space instead!

What a few months...

2007-04-09T08:28:00.000-07:00

You really wouldn't believe the month I've had. In brief:

1. Went to Berlin for 4 days so went shopping to Chester for new clothes in anticipation of German temperatures. Tried to get under the Mersey on the underground, except it was ON FIRE so I couldn't get down at Lime Street where I usually do, then every station on the circuit (it goes round in a loop under Liverpool) was shut down and evacuated as I tried to enter it as I tried one station after the other.

2. Finally set off for Berlin, stayed in London for two nights prior to flying from Stanstead. Got the willies on the tube as the driver got a message Holborn was shut down and evacuated as I approached it and I saw everyone exiting Holborn as we went through at top speed. Turns out the power went down because of a bust water main.

3. Finally got to Berlin. Ate a freeze dried Air Berlin ham sandwich on the flight. Spent the first night with my head in a German toilet with food poisoning. Was exhausted for the rest of the time we were there, effectively only getting one full day to see what we wanted. I would love to go back though.

4. On returning home my mum had been taken seriously ill in hospital, her lung had collapsed and there were other complications. She died on the 19th of February within 24 hours of being back in the UK and finding out she was ill.

5. Had tickets to see The Black Keys in Manchester and despite my mum’s death 4 days earlier I went as I felt at a total loose end. Booked a taxi to get home from the station, the driver FELL ASLEEP SEVERAL TIMES on the way home and smashed another cars mirror off.

I won’t ever forget that 6am call from the Hospital, the type where you know what is going to be said by the first ring of the phone. But despite all this, I actually feel quite upbeat. I try to focus on happy thoughts of my mum as much as I can, and just get on with it. All the other stuff however, I don’t know, people have commented that I am particularly unlucky, but I believe you make your own luck so that doesn’t faze me.

The Blog Digest 2007...

2006-12-03T10:42:00.000-08:00

… by Justin McKeating, includes a post I wrote on here, about when I went down to London to mark the first anniversary of the bombings. I got my complimentary copy a week or so ago, it’s well worth a look. If you are familiar with the blogging phenomenon it is a good summary of spot-on blog material from the past year, by people who want to write, about what they want to write about. Surely there is no better motive to write. If you aren’t familiar with blogging then it is a good, broad overview of just what all the fuss is about, in a familiar form. I’m honoured to be included in it, I’m no writer, I design and engineer products, so it is a nice surprise to be in it. Cheers Justin! Have a look!

I have written only one thing since that post, I just haven’t felt the urge to write that I had when I started this blog. But that doesn’t mean I had “got over” the very reason I began writing on here. In fact, the last couple of months of counseling were the hardest by far, and I probably only really began to deal with what happened at this time. I have now finished counseling, and generally feel great, better than ever, but sometimes it does creep back. Usually in a subconscious manner, I’ve actually been getting quite a few horrific nightmares lately, while I have had bad dreams before, never this many, and never so graphic. But generally I’m doing good!!

It was always my intention to turn this blog into one based around design (product, furniture and industrial) when I felt like I had run dry, and hopefully it will soon, when I can get back into writing with more regularity. Getting something published, albeit only one and a bit pages, has reminded me that I do actually enjoy writing, and it has pulled something good out of an otherwise pretty bleak year.

Hope to be back sooner rather than later.

...eerie calm...

2006-09-12T03:24:00.000-07:00

I recently found the MySpace profile of Craig, a 35 year old NYC police officer, who, now prematurely retired, was evacuating the Subway beneath the WTC as the South Tower collapsed above him. He is now retired due to continuing PTSD, and potentially dying from Pulmonary Fibrosis brought on by breathing the air from Ground Zero, as he immediately returned to work to aid the rescue operation. The EPA told them it was “safe” to breathe.

Here is an extract from his account. At this point Craig had, with four other officers had evacuated the Subway station beneath the WTC…

“We all met in front of the token booth, and reported the station clear. We were told to stand by, and that more units were coming. So, nervously, we waited, in the momentary eerie calm.

It is impossible to describe the noise that we heard next. It was deafening. The concourse mall doors, rumbled, then exploded open towards us, and a wind hit me so hard that I actually had to hold onto one of the blue I-beams supporting the station ceiling. Then, as quickly as it started, the saloon style mall doors swung closed. Stunned, I looked to the cop next to me, and began to say, "What the fuck wa..", but never finished my sentence. The mall doors imploded this time, and a stronger wind pulled me off my feet, and sucked me towards the concourse. I skipped like a stone off the white tile floor, through the doors, rolled up two short flights of steps, and came to rest, as I smashed into a cookie stores facade. Everything went black, and I thought about not calling my mother back, as I slipped into unconsciousness.

I don't know how long I was unconscious. When I awoke, I couldn't see, or breathe. I choked, and spat out powdered dry wall, and god only knows what else. I reached for my flashlight, and winced in shock at the pain that shot down the right side of my chest. I checked myself to see if I was bleeding. Satisfied that I wasn't, I clicked the flashlight on. The only bright spot it could create, was directly in front of the beam. The flashlight was completely useless, from all the choking dust in the air. It was pitch black, even with the light, and I couldn't see my hand in front of my face. I shakily rose to my feet, and tried to get my bearings. However, I had no idea where I was. I felt heat to my left, and knew not to go that way. I thought about what had happened, but the last memory I had was being pulled off of my feet, in the direction of the concourse doors. So, I put my right hand on the wall, and started forward. There was so much debris that I tripped over and over again. I could barely keep upright. I felt a stack of newspapers, and knew I was in the newsstand just upstairs from the train station, in the mall entrance. I continued forward, with my right hand on the wall, and blindly staggered through the newsstand's candy and magazines. I finally came to the edge of a tiled wall, and felt my way down the stairs, and back into the subway station. I was wracked by a coughing fit, and wanted water to clear my mouth and nose, as I saw a small beam of light pierce the dust in the air. Coughing, I headed for it. The light was coming from the subway entrance. I climbed the stairs, and in horror, looked at a scene that reminded me of photos of London, during the blitz, in World War II.”

Tour Change - A 9/11 survivor’s story, Craig 9/11.

www.myspace.com/nypd219

He goes on to discuss his disabling PTSD, something I know all too well, something which happens when your normal life becomes momentarily horrifically bizarre. That moment won’t fit with the rest of your life, no matter how much you try to force it, and it is literally enough to make you mad. We exchanged messages of encouragement and understanding; I found that largely our emotions are almost identical. I am still in counselling, and would love to say I am doing great, I was, but I feel like I’m going backwards. Yesterday, Monday the 11^th, was particularly bad.

On Sunday evening I couldn’t sleep properly. I just felt really uneasy, turns out most of KCU felt the same, and it seems to be some sort of “shared anniversary” symptom. As if 9/11 and 7/7 were chapters in the same book.

This lack of sleep probably contributed to me having an accident at work, I dropped something on my foot and thought I had crushed my toe. So I spent the 11^th in A&E at the Royal Liverpool Hospital. I hadn’t broken anything, just the nail at the base. When I got in the back to see the doctor I got the worst flashbacks I have ever experienced, I thought I was going to vomit. Of course, the last time I was in A&E was the 7^th last year at Royal London, and the signifiers of hospital, and my own blood, had triggered me to recall much from my visit to hospital last year which I thought I had forgotten.

I am sure none of us will ever really forget.

07/07/06

2006-07-10T10:08:00.000-07:00

Only a few days after the 7th last year I knew I would feel the need to be back in London to mark the anniversary, I just wasn’t sure how. However on the evening of the 6th I felt I should make my way to Kings Cross the following morning. So 3 of us who left our hostel the same morning a year ago made our way to Kings Cross, however this time we went from Angel as opposed to Barbican to avoid making an exact repeat journey. We decided to use the tube, perhaps it was a show of resolve, but it was probably most likely out of laziness. We had already commented how the Underground was bound to have undercover officers all over the network, I actually felt quite safe and I was impressed and pleased that everyone seemed to be commuting as normal.

There was a large police presence underneath Kings Cross, and I made my way up to the station the same route we were evacuated. We met other fellow passengers who also felt they should be here on this day and at 8.50 we said a few words to remember those who never completed their journey and had a quiet moment of reflection. After spending a short time at St Pancras church where some of the other passengers laid flowers we broke away and continued with our day.

We then spent the day on Oxford , Regent and Carnaby Street, only stopping to mark the 2 mins silence by standing at Oxford Circus. My phone was going off all day as I received texts from friends wishing me well, bad things bring out kindness in people.

In the evening we met up with others in Islington and headed over to Soho. Obviously I knew the way, so I led us to Piccadilly Circus via Kings Cross. We had to run for the Piccadilly Line connection which meant I had no choice of carriage/ position/ not standing next to a someone with a stupidly massive rucksack, and we ended up in the middle of the first carriage. Once on the train I pointed at the floor and gestured that it was here where it happened and I pointed out the eastbound tunnel junction out the window on the right hand side (you see the wall disappear), the exact point where it happened.

I was ok until 11.30pm when I completely broke down in a bar in Soho, the day had finally caught up with me. All the pretending that it was “just another day” and trying to distract myself was futile. I have been the same all weekend, before, I was able to speak about it without feeling anything, now every time I do so I want to cry. It is the sheer violence and senseless waste of life which is hitting me.

I came home to find many kind messages left for me on here. Thank you for your kind words and thoughts. Once again, this has shown me that bad things bring out kindness in people.

It's hit me.

2006-07-03T19:30:00.000-07:00

I can’t sleep, partly because it is just too hot, but partly because I think the “anniversary affect” has finally hit me.

Damn! I thought it was going to bypass me.

It’s not just the anniversary which has brought things back to me, tomorrow I have my 5th counselling session and last week was the toughest yet. The first few sessions I just skirted the subject and talked about what I wanted from counselling and what periods I found the hardest over the last year. But last week I finally talked about IT. I stopped speaking about it months ago, at which point it became a script of an event that had happened to someone, not necessarily me, and only an outline of images, sounds and smells. When I talk about it with my counsellor she asks me what I saw, what I was thinking and my emotion at that moment, because I haven’t spoken about it for so long I have to engage with it, think about it and put myself back there. I have to mentally go back and forth to reassemble it all and put it back into place. It’s not easy, nobody has ever asked me what it felt like to be there, but now I am forcing myself to remember.

The emotional part has been the stumbling block for me, and is still proving the hardest part to overcome. For the past year I have done things which would have made me happy before last July, but I don’t feel happy doing them. And some sad and tragic things have happened also, yet I don’t feel sad. I have spent 12 months for the most part feeling just average, never high, never low and I’m slowly breaking this barrier down.

I know that later today I will sit in a room and talk mostly about how I waited to die on a near pitch black train for 40 min’s almost exactly a year ago. My counsellor remarked: “that’s a long time to wait to die”. Yes, it is. It is that feeling that I was convinced I was going to perish there and then, no question, which made me want to vomit on a train last week. Suddenly I feel this emotion at the strangest of times, but at least I am feeling something for a change! When it happened I thought I was dead, it went black, silent and everything stopped, for a few seconds I was knocked out. When I realised I wasn’t dead, but instead in a train filling with smoke from a fireball which was about to consume us, I waited to be burned alive. When I realised it wasn’t a fire I waited to suffocate, and when I realised I wouldn’t suffocate I still thought I would be maimed or killed by another train as it sped down the tunnel. Either way I was convinced I would never see daylight again.

I did, however, and I know I’m lucky. But I feel so guilty, guilty that I not only walked off that train without helping anyone, but stood there for 40 minutes only metres from people who needed help, yet I did nothing, I couldn’t see them. I feel guilty I am not making the most of life, and am still wallowing in all this, when people don‘t have the opportunity. I feel guilty for moaning about how I feel, and how I’m struggling, so many people came off worse, so many people lost loved ones. And not only in London last year, but anywhere this happens, and keeps happening.

I have just caught a repeat of Live8, the weather is hot and muggy and on Thursday I catch the train into London to go to the same exhibition I was exhibiting at last year, with the same friends and staying in the same student halls. It feels strange. I will be in London for the anniversary, but will do little to mark it, I’m not sure what I want to do on that day, if anything. I wish it was just another day… but it wont be… whatever I do that day I know my thoughts will only be on one thing.

A brief update.

2006-06-13T10:17:00.000-07:00

Just a quick update to let you know I haven’t gone forever.

I initially pursued counselling on the 9th of January, a month later I had a single session/assessment and was referred to another counsellor. I was then on a waiting list until 2 weeks ago. It has taken me 5 months to gain counselling. It’s pathetic, I felt ignored. In my first session I was diagnosed as “clinically depressed”, however, I have had 3 sessions of 8 so far and it is going well.

I am in a new relationship of a month and it is also going well. Jo is extremely understanding and supportive, and best of all lifts & removes me from the mental state I have been wallowing in for months.

I have more work after a long drought and have been commissioned to design furniture for a school playground. I seem to be getting my motivation and confidence back, slowly.

The London Assembly reports etc. have all washed over me, I no longer have any interest in “that”, I have been doing my best at getting back to being me again.

What better way to get back to being myself than spending last weekend at Download festival @ Donnington Park. I could give an in depth review but I wont. All in all it was a great weekend away with great friends, great bands, scorching sunshine and far too much pear cider.

Itchy feet.

2006-05-03T15:02:00.000-07:00

I am feeling incredibly unsettled at the moment. Last night I couldn’t sleep at all, instead I sat in the kitchen till 4am just thinking, thinking about what I really want to do and where I want to go. This has all come along after a few turbulent days. Thankfully that has passed, but it did make me realise that I need to do something drastic.

After all this I still couldn’t sleep and decided it was pointless trying. I ended up doing “points calculators” online to test if I am eligible to emigrate to a number of (sometimes completely random) countries, for some reason I felt drawn to New Zealand. Today I was in WH Smith and spent an hour leafing through the books in the travel section, tonight I am meeting a friend to finalise details of a trip to Berlin soon, this is turning into a consistent theme.

Maybe I am trying to escape my “trap” in the most obvious and dramatic way possible, maybe it is all talk, but I don’t think it is. I am seriously serious about emigrating from the U.K.

P.s. In the past week I have written six posts, but only published one. Some I have published only to remove soon after, if you were quick you may have caught a few of them. This was probably tied into my self confidence crisis I mention above. Also, it is partly because my views and opinions on all matters are changing so fast I don’t really feel as they are solid enough to voice to the world. I am writing, I’m just not publishing.

Barcelona

2006-04-16T10:20:00.001-07:00

Yesterday I got back from Barcelona, I was visiting a great friend I met through KCU, Sila, (she recently started a blog too). It was so last minute I didn’t have time to blog I was going. It’s weird to think that if that very bad thing never happened, we would never have met. Especially so as it dropped out of our conversations so long ago, it feels like it never happened. We never mentioned it all the time I was in Barcelona. It rarely gets mentioned ever anyway. Our friendship started as she had the same reaction as me when she joined KCU, massive shock, so I was reassuring her it was normal for a while. She has listened to a lot of my July 7th junk too, so it works well, and I’m so glad we got the chance to meet, it’s just a shame it was in such a horrific way. She was in the 1st carriage the other side of the bomber and went to Russel Square, so it wasn't till March 9th until we met. It’s great when positive things emerge from the negative, it brings a lot of closure.

I wasn’t nervous about flying, just excited to be going, it was my first time flying on my own but I was fine. Barcelona was amazing, so beautiful. Gorgeous architecture almost everywhere, (the image is Gaudi's Sagrada Familia) and the laid back atmosphere was just what I needed. I always feel quite at home around the Mediterranean because my mum is half Spanish, even though I can‘t speak a word. One day I’m going to trace my ancestry back. Sila did an amazing job as a tour guide until she got severe bronchitis on the last day. Pleasant. A lot of people on our train have had repeated severe chest infections, including me, bronchitis should be renamed Bin Laden disease. I spent the last day strolling along the beach for hours, how touristy!

I didn’t want to write about it yesterday, I had the back from holiday blues, or should that be back to the dung hole that is St Helens blues. I feel the benefits of my break today though, I feel re-energised, rejuvenated and raring to go! Bring it on!

Flashbacks

2006-04-05T04:54:00.001-07:00

If you are sensitive to gory images be aware before reading on.

Just as I thought I was getting back to normal the flashbacks have started to kick back in. I used to get flashbacks often from August till December, but not recently. I say flashbacks, but they begin as a vivid memory, and then play out a very different scenario to what actually happened. The old flashbacks were always the same, get on the train, go down the tunnel, bang, injury, wait 5 minutes. But, then me and my friends go into the 1st carriage. This goes on for a while, dragging people out, asking people to bring us scarves, belts and ties, anything to use as tourniquets. While I didn’t really see in there, what I imagine has to be quite close, it is truly horrific. All I saw in reality was damage to the roof and parts of it hanging down, as the smoke settled it became clearer. Unfortunately I have a very vivid imagination and am able to piece together the rest.

These flashbacks stopped. Now a new flashback has started.

I am on the platform, first train arrives, can’t get on so I wait. Announcement: “next train on its way.” Bang, bomb goes off on the platform. This time it is fully lit up and I can see everything, so can everyone else all the way up the platform. Because there isn’t the barrier of the carriage to take the blast it blows me off my feet and up the platform. There are people dying on the tracks who we can’t help as the tracks are live. So we can only help the others who are either side and pushed/blown back off the platform. Because we aren’t as packed as we were on the train a lot of people are knocked over all the way up the platform and caught up in a stampede to run away. Then the train comes in and the flashback stops, I don’t know if it stops in time or they get the message before it hits the people on the track.

With most of my trauma I can guess why I’m having those specific feelings, there is a logical reason behind them. I can see why I was having the first flashbacks but I’m not sure about these ones. Maybe I’m just playing out every potential scenario till it is all out of my system. Also, I’m off work this week, the last time I was getting flashbacks I was out of work, maybe I have just been too distracted to have these thoughts till now.

Trigger happy

2006-04-03T11:18:00.000-07:00

We got a lot of coverage ‘up north’ of the Condoleeza Rice visit. I wasn’t going to post anything on it, but I saw her and Straw talking about terrorism on the local news last night. They mentioned 9/11 and the London bombings. I can’t remember her exact words, but I felt very hacked off, I felt that I was being used as a pawn, an excuse for them to maintain their silly ‘war on terror’ policy. I’m not going to post anything political, there are so many people who can articulate the issues much better than me, plus, Iraq is so complex you have to be an expert just to hold your own in a debate.

And people wonder why my generation is so apathetic?

I am so confused by Iraq now, but I know one thing, I am nothing like this bunch of trigger happy gun toting insensitive bloodthirsty fools! (read the comments section)

50 Best Chairs

2006-04-01T04:08:00.000-08:00

Some people obsess over cars, for me it’s chairs. I’ve been meaning to write something chair related ever since I saw this in the design museum. It’s Jerszy Seymour’s “Easy Chair”, for me it is a one stop lesson in product aesthetics. Let your eye fall on it, subconsciously you will scan over the whole form wherever you start, either from the legs up or the seat down taking the arms and the back in without even knowing it. This is because Seymour has designed it so all lines are continuous. All lines/edges follow and accentuate the form, some accelerate downwards only for your eye to loop round the bottom of the leg and carry on. It is this flow of lines which makes an object appear light and effortless. An AUDI TT on the other hand has many lines which hit each other or the floor at tangents creating an altogether different aesthetic. The AUDI appears heavy and solid, while the easy chair appears light, casual and fun.

The fun form of the easy chair means it suits its vibrant colour palette, I’m getting bored of everything minimal and white at the moment. And, it stacks, is weatherproof and wipe clean, so top marks for function! I admit it's not to all tastes, I probably wouldn't have it in my own house.

However… no design is perfect, if it was I would be out of a job, but I think Seymour's comes fairly close. Ok so it’s not a swanky leather office chair, or a chrome Bauhaus lounger, but I’m getting bored of all that by now. That’s ancient history. It’s also the most recent design in today’s “50 best chairs” article in the Independent. I would have to disagree with about 46 of their 50 choices (probably because they had Max Fraser on the panel… I‘ll explain more later) , but then I’m a perfectionist. I would find it hard to choose 50 average chairs, I hold only a few dozen as good, a handful as great, but only one as the best ever. This is the only design both me and The Independent agree on: the Eames Aluminium group EA108 office chair. I’m sat on one now, I spent all my first wages on it and it wiped me out for a month but I don’t regret it one bit. It’s comfortable, classic and I would get back what I paid for it tomorrow on ebay!

I will try and write more on this passion of mine, maybe do my own top 5. For the time being here’s a few of my other favourites, some you may know, some you probably wont. Poul Kjaerholm’s ‘PK24’, Ernest Race’s ‘Antelope chair’, ‘Dolly’ by Citterio and Low and Sori Yanagi’s ‘Butterfly’ stool. Oh, and as for Max Fraser, I went to one of his lectures last year, he spent two hours telling us how great his career was and how he spends most of his time going to designer parties. And he gets paid for it!

NB: new 'Creative Links' section in the sidebar >>>

Ding Ding ,... Round Two!

2006-03-25T09:40:00.000-08:00

Remember this? Guess what... he didn't reply! (sorry to put a downer on an otherwise good day.)

This is what I sent to him, I don't think I was asking too much. Keep in mind this was 2 weeks ago and before Charles Clarke responded to Rachel Norths Dad, and most of these points were raised 2 days ago at the London Assembly testimony hearing, and hopefully will be corrected as a result of that.

Dear Shaun Woodward.

I am Steven Lovegrove, and live in your constituency. Last summer I was caught up in the July 7th London Bombings on the Piccadilly Underground Line, I was three metres from the bomber and suffered head injuries and mild concussion. I and many other survivors are suffering Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and feel a lack of closure with how the follow-up has been conducted. I feel strongly that there should be a public inquiry. While this is a national issue, as you are my MP I feel I should contact you. I am not trying to point the finger at anyone, I just feel we owe it to those who died in vain to at least try and learn how we can react better in a similar situation, or prevent another similar crime.

For example: communications on the day between police, ambulance crews and London Underground were poor, paramedic crews and ambulances mostly went to Kings Cross, however, the worst injured were taken in the other direction underground to Russell Square and had to wait for proper medical attention.

I also feel that the issue of young British men turning to such extreme acts needs more attention. It is a real worry to me that these young men, the same age as me, felt driven to do this. Surely it makes sense to have an open review of how we can better prevent these incidents while we still face a considerable terrorist threat. I feel it deserves greater scrutiny, after such a needless and massive loss of life we must attempt to learn from it.

Only good can come from a public inquiry. So my question is: Why do we as yet have no inquiry?

Or, could you, on my and many other survivors and bereaved families behalf make the case for one. Surely our opinions should be acted upon as we witnessed and have to live with the horrors of that day forever. I would greatly appreciate your response.

Yours Sincerely,

Steve Lovegrove

Today I got a reply from 'write to them'

The majority of MPs
respond promptly and diligently to the needs and views of their
constituents. They deserve credit and respect for their
conscientiousness.

Likewise, we're keen to expose the minority of MPs who don't seem to
give a damn.

It seems Shaun Woodward is in the minority of MPs 'who don't seem to give a damn'. I will ask him why he doesn't. (when I have time).

Forgiveness and release.

2006-03-14T14:59:00.000-08:00

‘I cannot forgive the murder of innocent civilians’.

These were my words only a few days ago, I still stand by this, however I have found it within myself to mostly forgive. It was obvious I wasn’t settled as my mind was a frenzy of thoughts, predicaments and difficult questions. Then I came to a conclusion and the frenzy halted. This seems to be the way I deal with anything July 7th related, I will feel normal for weeks and then have 2 or 3 very intense days of emotion or reflection.

My answer to the question of; ‘Do I forgive the bombers of July 7th?’, is a complex one, but I feel a logical one. I feel we can’t forgive everything, if we forgive everything unconditionally then forgiveness becomes disposable. As I’ve said before, I find it impossible to believe anyone could forgive genocide or a serial child killer. So some acts are beyond the line of what we forgive. For me the murder of innocent civilians at random is beyond that line and therefore unforgivable. I can’t forgive the needless murder of 52 people. However, it is not that simple.

It comes down to who the bombers were and why they acted where I draw my conclusion. The three youngest bombers: Hasib Hussain: 18, Germaine Lindsay: 19, and Shehzad Tanweer: 22, surely did not know the true result of their actions. They were too young and naive and were brainwashed. Their desperation and (I feel justified) anger was preyed upon by the fourth bomber, Siddique Khan. At 30 years old, Khan must have known the enormity of the mass murder they were about to commit, and was willing to manipulate others into committing a crime I am sure they would now regret. They would have naturally looked to Khan for leadership, he exploited this.

I initially said they ‘forfeited their chance to show sorrow’. As it is impossible for them to show sorrow I have to give them the benefit of the doubt and believe that they would be sorry and regret what they have done. When I look at their pictures I don’t see monsters, I see men I could quite easily find myself having a beer with, they are not evil people, they did however take part in an evil act. If I was to meet Germaine Lindsay tomorrow I believe he would say he misses his wife and child, could understand how it feels to lose a loved one and wishes he could turn back the clock.

So, I do forgive the person who injured me, tried to kill me and stole six months of my life. I also forgive him for killing 26 people as he didn’t truly know what he was doing. As far as I’m concerned, I have forgiven the person who created the July 7th I personally experienced, I feel a big release for this. I also forgive Hussain for killing 13 and Tanweer for killing 7. I stumble when I reach Siddique Khan.

I can’t forgive Siddique Khan for the murder of 6 innocent people, one of whom happens to be the daughter of Rev. Julie Nicholson. I also can’t forgive him for planning, and manipulating others into committing the murder of 46 further people. I am not singling Khan out as a hate figure, I still don’t hate him or feel anything negative towards him for that matter. As for the other people, the planners, the financers, the explosives trainers and the preachers who are too cowardly to fulfil their wishes themselves, I don’t forgive them either. But as I don’t know who these people are I have nobody to not forgive. So I am therefore at peace.

I feel I have forgiven as far as I should, and I feel better for it.

NB: for more on the forgiving the 7/7 bombers see Holly Finch, Yorkshire Lass and Rachel North.

The unforgivable act?

2006-03-12T16:19:00.000-08:00

Should Goebbels and other perpetrators of the Holocaust be forgiven?

Should Japanese war criminals, who tortured my Dads friend during construction of the Burma railway, be forgiven?

Should Ian Brady, a man who finds pleasure from denying his final victims mother a body to greave over, be forgiven?

Should I forgive the bombers of July 7th 2005?

I believe the answer to all of these is no. All these criminals were adults, they surely knew the difference between right and wrong. If they thought murder and torture was right, then they are evil and deserve no forgiveness. In the case of the bombers, their attack was premeditated, they had months, if not years to contemplate their actions. If they were here to see the result of their actions I believe they may show repentance, however, in committing suicide they forfeited their chance to show sorrow. I can sympathise with being a young man growing up in this scary, daunting and harsh world, at one point I was striving to forgive. However it wouldn’t benefit me and would be a lie. I do not hate them, but I am content to not forgive them.

Many Christians believe murder to be ‘the unforgivable act‘. I agree.

I cannot forgive their actions.

Update(14th March 2.00pm) : On reading this back I have changed my mind on some points, I don't believe they were evil and I am definately moving towards forgiveness, but I don't think I can forgive in entirity. Please follow my comments and future posts, I will leave this post up as it is a reflection of my feelings at a specific time, but feelings I am moving away from.

Dear Shaun...

2006-03-11T09:36:00.000-08:00

This infuriated me, Charles Clarke is elected to represent his constituents but refuses to answer a simple and justified question, and at the same time insults the questioner. I have just written to my MP Shaun Woodward outlining my concerns for a public enquiry into the July 7th bombings. I encourage anyone else who feels strongly about this to do the same. You can do it here. I will let you know WHEN I get a reply as I wont give up till I get one.

Return to the murder scene.

2006-03-11T03:19:00.000-08:00

On Thursday I finally went back to London to meet my fellow passengers, as soon as I got off the train I noticed I was getting risk-assessed all the way through Euston station. I could forgive them: rucksack, padded army jacket, young, male, nervous, sweating, getting off a train from the north and heading for the underground. That probably makes me about 85% potential suicide bomber, however I wasn’t going underground. Once outside I realised I was now nervous around parked trucks and vans, I would think: ‘why is there a bakers van parked outside a bank?’ and half expect the boom of a bomb.

After checking in I headed for Kings Cross tube, I was actually excited about going back. Excited? You do remember what happened there don’t you?! Anyway, I got to the Piccadilly westbound platform and while it didn’t really phase me, the whole place seems a lot dingier, more claustrophobic, hotter and deeper than I remember. I thought I would be worried about which carriage I got on, I wasn‘t (as long as it wasn‘t the first), I was more worried about who was on that carriage, I would keep walking till I found some straight laced business types and stick with them. A train came, I was on, before I knew it we were at Russell Square, and I carried on to Leicester Square. It felt like nothing had ever happened there, I expected to panic and be upset, but no. I had spent two weeks psyching myself up to do it, there was no more fear left and I had waited 8 months, maybe it was just the right time to do it. Also, statistically the chances of me being in the wrong place at the wrong time twice and the chance of it happening again in the same spot are tiny, I feel almost invincible. Other survivors and I, are the least likely people in Britain to be in the same thing again, if we are then we know how to react. Like I said... invincible.

So, I found myself walking from Westminster (where I saw a woman getting arrested for making a silent protest with a banner, that’s democracy for you!) along the north bank. Upon stumbling on Cleopatra’s needle I found it’s story actually quite relevant, If you already know it sorry but I will remind you. While being transported by sea from Egypt in a custom built iron tube (ironic huh?), it hit rough seas, a crew was sent from the towboat to the needle to get the crew but they sank and died. The tether was cut and the needle was lost in the Bay Of Biscay, they thought it was lost forever only to find it five days later floating and unharmed. It eventually got to London and was erected on the bank. Then the plinths were damaged by the first ever German bombing raid by aeroplanes, the scars remain un-repaired on the plinth and sphinx. So, its journey was interrupted and resulted in fatalities, however it finally completed its journey and stands tall and proud, the bomb scars only add to its long history, hope you see the relevance. Enough of the history lesson.

I then made a return journey on the tube from St Paul’s to Kings Cross, but someone got on next to me with a rucksack, I just waited for it to explode, I could almost feel it going off and ripping me in two, but I still didn’t panic, I was getting off at the next stop anyway. I’ve realised I don’t’ have a specific problem with any section of the tube, just generally a bit nervous and aware of any dangers. Obviously to be expected.

That evening I met my fellow survivors for the first time, (or shoud that be second?) I would hope that a cross section of any train on any morning would throw up such a nice bunch of people. It was so refreshing to talk about IT without having to set the scene, I found it very helpful to talk about what happened and how we are all dealing with it in a slightly different way. One difference I noticed was how we refer to it, I refer to it as just ‘London’, for example: ‘I’m in counselling for London’. To me ‘London’ and ‘bomb’ are one and the same thing, I hope I don’t always associate it like that as I really do love the place. I would also like to add we didn’t sit there talking about bombs all night, very soon it was just a bunch of people chatting about anything. I left feeling very patriotic and proud of us all. I guess it’s similar to blitz spirit in WWII. They nearly murder us, so… we go for a beer and have a laugh! I’d say they've failed miserably!

Entrepreneur.

2006-03-06T13:08:00.000-08:00

Watch out Branson! As of today I am officially the owner of my own business, I have yet to name it, and am currently a ‘sole trader’, but I am toying with the name ‘splinter‘. Unfortunately several companies already have it, so I may need a variation of it, something to look into. My official line of work is ‘Industrial Product Design‘, which means I can work in any field of design, right through from concept to engineering for mass manufacture. This route wasn’t intentional, it was a way of working part time and flexibly while motivation wasn’t that easy to come across, but is now turning into a longer term venture. At present I am largely working freelance for others but have a few concepts which I believe are commercially viable and will follow up. Strangely, I am now more determined than ever, and after a real letdown last year feel I could now possibly make it on my own! To the future…

Three metres.

2006-03-05T05:47:00.000-08:00

A few months ago it felt like my mind was turning on itself and I was having some sort of breakdown, I couldn’t comprehend what had happened, then my subconscious mind stepped in and began to drip feed it to myself. In early January I struggled with realising the entire event was actually true. I exposed myself to all the images I found disturbing, constantly reading accounts of rescuers and survivors. This sent me into shock. I made myself memorise a few victims names as I was disgusted with myself that the only fatality I knew by name was Germaine Lindsay.

The same happened a few days later, this time the realisation I was in it. A week or so ago it hit me that people really did die, even though I saw a body it didn’t sink in. It’s very hard to get my head round the fact that 26 people were killed on my train, just feet away, 26, I keep saying it but it doesn’t really mean much, it’s just a number. I found myself finding ways of visualising it. For example: six and a half times my immediate family. 52 died in total, that’s half the number of people in my road. Half a road, the equivalent of 13 families, gone forever.

And now my mind is easing me into realising how close I was to the blast, I’m guessing somewhere around 3 metres by mentally pacing up and down the platform. In fact we got to a crowded platform, and realised there was no point moving up or down, it was packed all the way up. I guess Lindsay thought the same, but for some unknown reason took 4 or 5 steps to right, we’ll never know why. Any of us could have been killed, the only reason those 26 were killed was because of a busy platform. That makes me feel nauseous.

So I have now realised that I wasn’t going mad, my mind was and still is allowing me to come to terms with it bit by bit and never allowing myself to go into too much shock, just enough to come to terms with one specific aspect at a time.

Apocalypse.

2006-03-02T10:06:00.000-08:00

Last night I found something very odd. In the bottom of one of my drawers I found a newspaper from September 12th 2001, the headline was “APOCALYPSE”, obviously it had had an image of the burning twin towers on the front page. I remember that exact day, it was a Tuesday and the first day of my Art Foundation course at my local college. My tutor announced; “From this day on you are a designer/painter/sculptor, this is the first day of your career.” Then it happened. I kept the paper as it must be the biggest single news story of my lifetime. I remember having a conversation with my Dad about what possible targets there would be in the UK. We decided it would be the tube, our exact words were: “sitting duck.” This all feels very weird, predicting it and then surviving it first hand. If you read my account of July 7th you will know I was in London to get a job. It was the last few days of my undergraduate degree, the morning of the first day our exhibition was open to the public and the day to meet industry and get a job. My undergraduate education has been sandwiched by terrorism, I don’t know what to make of it. There is nothing to make of it, it’s just one of those odd coincidences. Thought I would share it.

People died.

2006-02-27T05:20:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I cried, only for a minute. There’s a few things going through my head. I’m planning to finally go back to London to meet my fellow passengers, I’m going to make the most of my trip and see some things and places, which means one thing… the tube. I’m not going to lie I’m absolutely kacking myself, when I’m about to go underground it will feel like I’m “going over the top,”. Fear has gripped me. I was looking at the tube map working out where I want to go and which detours I can take to avoid the Kings Cross/Russell Square section. Maybe I should just do it, repeat my journey of that day , or should that be DO my journey of that day. If I’m confronted with a choice of carriages where do I go? I’m not superstitious at all, but I don’t want to make a subconscious decision which gets me dead, I’m considering taking a dice, leave it in the hands of gravity. What if it says one?

Also, I think the enormity of what I’ve witnessed has hit me a bit again, reading through my account has brought it home a bit. Not only have I witnessed terrorism, but I’ve witnessed mass murder and slaughter. Calling it terrorism dresses it up as something grander than it really is, like a big web controlled by a masked man pointing at things making them explode. Maybe the people attempting to prevent further attacks should start treating them as murderers, as well as terrorists, they seem to ignore that bit, you know, the bit where real people died!

Sure on one side you need to treat it as terrorism, but that doesn’t stop a young bloke making a bomb in his bedroom or shed and following it through, nor will any of these other measures. I’ve said all this before I‘m sick of saying it. They just don’t give a toss. Presented with the choice between big old bloody needless war and peace, they choose war every time! I just do not get their mentality.

One summer morning.

2006-02-23T13:27:00.000-08:00

I was in London from the 4th to 11th of July at the New Designers graduate product design exhibition in Islington, I had just finished my degree and this was an opportunity to show our work to industry. Wednesday was awards day, no one at our university won anything, so the next morning we decided we needed a break.

Thursday, five of us decided to get up early to see more of London, before the design exhibition at 11am so we got the circle line tube from Barbican (near the student halls we were staying at), up to Kings Cross at 8.22. We then went to get the Piccadilly line southbound, we got to the platform and waited about 4 people from the edge. It was about 8.40. The platform was packed, so much so that there were constant announcements for people to back away from the edge as the train might hit them.

A train came through and we tried to push on, but there were 5 of us so we couldn’t make it, we got the next one, about 8 minutes later. I had to force myself in between other people, it was the busiest tube train I’d ever been on. I got on the first door of the second carriage, with my back against the internal door to the first carriage. We began to move.

We'd been out drinking the night before. I turned round to my friend Mark and said, "Good job you don't feel sick..." At this point I was looking into the first carriage, it was packed, and swaying as we went down the tunnel. I have this image saved in my head, I know I was looking at people only 2 seconds before they were blown apart. In the time it took me to turn my head back round, about 1 minute down the tunnel, it happened.

Lots of things happened at the same time, there was a massive 'metallic' bang behind me which sounded like we’d hit a train at top speed, we stopped instantly, I couldn’t see anything because there was a blast of light filled with glass screening my vision all around me. The glass window against the back of my head had shattered, along with the frame and flew past and into my head horizontally. I remember this moment so vividly as the light was so bright I couldn't see anything except lots of glass and debris within the flash. Then silence and total blackness. I thought this was death, everything around me was gone and there was a strong rush of air passing over me, which was the wave of debris and smoke pumping through the window. Sounds strange but I felt like I was flying. The blast had bent me over and I was slumping towards the floor, I was losing consciousness. At one point I was unconscious.

I came round when my friend Andy grabbed me and picked me up, only when he touched me did I know I wasn't dead. He gave me a bear hug and said, “You’re all right mate!“ He later told me he thought he only had moments to live. I looked around and could only see a few people because of the darkness and smoke. The emergency light was on, but didn't do much as the smoke was so thick and still pumping through the window, into my face and filling the rest of the train. Then I realised smoke equals fire. I internally and very calmly said these exact words to myself;

"This is it, your worst nightmare, you are going to burn to death."

My heart rate slowed down and I slowed down breathing, I guess it’s a survival instinct to prevent me breathing more smoke than I have to and prevent panic. My neck, shoulder and chest was wet, I knew I was bleeding but not how bad it was. I was shouting out "...fuck, fuck, fuck..." nobody heard me, many were screaming, those that were not were shouting for calm. People calmed down, People were asking if I was ok, I was saying "I'm cut pretty bad, there's a lot of blood." A stranger felt the back of my head to see where it was coming from. Part of the door, or something from the front carriage had come through the door and gashed my head from one side to the other, 5 inches long, my skull was visible. I asked Andy for his jumper for my head, and wrapped it round my head.

People were asking anyone with a phone to try and get a signal, I got mine out, even though it was useless, it was 8.52. We were trying to calm everyone down, eventually our carriage went quiet. The carriages behind were panicking, the one in front was silent, our carriage was eerily calm. I couldn’t see anything through the carriage door which hit me, it was pitch black, it wasn't there any more. I peered in through the window, I thought it was just the blackness of the dark which meant I couldn’t see the full carriage, no, many of them were dead and dying only feet in front of me yet I couldn‘t see it. I could see a man standing against the left hand rear of carriage one, my friend Mark was shining his phone through the window, trying to talk to him and the few people we could see, he never answered, he never moved for half an hour. Either he was deafened by the blast, in shock or unconscious. We were asking if they were ok through the door, and if we could get out that way, no answer. They were deaf, unconscious, dead, or on their way to Russell Square on foot. Course I didn’t realise this, there was no reason for us to believe a bomb exploded the other side of that door.

After about 10 minutes we had heard nothing and it was getting really hot down there. By this time I knew it wasn’t a fire, just dust, which stank, it smelt like chemicals. People had their mouths covered by clothes to block the smoke out, for some reason I didn't. A woman in front of me was very upset and asking if people could try and open the side doors to let the smoke out. I thought to myself "There's only so much air in here." I shouted at people to open the side doors, they tried and made a gap of about 3inches between the doors. The walls of the tunnel were only a hands length from the train, there was no way to get out. Frustrated, I shouted that there must be an emergency door we can get out at the back. Someone pointed out to me that the tracks would be live. There was a flash, someone was taking pictures with their camera phone. Everyone swore at him. A man to my left was calling for a fire extinguisher, people had a go at him. The buzzer on the intercom would go off every few minutes and everyone would shout for silence, we would ask for silence from the first carriage, even though it was silent in there. But the speaker would only crackle, and no message came through. After every failed message, people panicked again. Every few minutes a woman’s screams would come from the first carriage, and people would try to calm her from our carriage. I will never forget them. There were heavy bangs coming from both ends of the train, I thought the tunnel was collapsing, people were actually breaking out of the train.

Mark tried to force the door behind us open to get the people out, he told them to stand back so he could kick it through, but couldn’t, it was buckled and swollen in towards us and jammed shut, the top half was blown through and scattered on the floor. It was so dark it was impossible to see what was happening in there, I could see part of the roof hanging down, which prevented us going through the window. Mark was still talking to the people the other side of the door, holding a woman’s hand through the door and reassuring them. A massive rush of air came through the tunnel as another train was coming down the tunnel and someone screamed out that it would hit us, I waited for the crash, I considered grabbing a man next to me, but it just faded away, They must have been clearing the tunnel to get us out. Nervous silence. I said out loud, “I could murder a brew…” , a few people nervously laughed, from this point people relaxed a bit and began to talk to each other.

After about half an hour people started to move down from in front of us, as I got to the end of my carriage I looked back and 5 injured people walked out of the carriage behind (the front one), then nobody else. We walked down through our carriage, as I did the tube manager from Kings Cross came past us, I walked into the 3rd carriage, the first doors and windows were broken as the train had hit and rubbed the tunnel wall. I got out the 3rd side doors of the 3rd carriage onto the track and down a side tunnel as we had stopped on a ‘Y’ junction.

I looked back at the train, it was forced against the wall, and the sides were scraped. I recall seeing a form on the floor, I later realized this was a dead body. There was a queue on the right and injured people were told to go to the left. I waited for someone to go past; he had a bloodied face and was unrecognisable. I followed a woman who’s lower back was badly lacerated, slashed from one side to the other, she was having trouble walking, we walked on the tracks for about 5 minutes and scrambled up onto the platform.

I was directed up to the top of Kings Cross station, I got on the escalator. Another train was being evacuated from the platform we boarded on. These people were staring at me, expressionless. I was shouting, "What are they looking at, why are they looking at me?!". I didn’t know my face was completely black from the smoke and my face and clothes were covered in blood. They still looked. I got to the ticket barrier and started mouthing off about the "F*cking underground, checking our tickets after this!" The gates were open. The paramedics were just going down, someone dropped a pallet of water off in the station, I ripped the polythene off and started handing the bottles out. I then sat on the pallet. I tried to go outside but someone in the street was hassling me, asking me what was going on, I said I didn't know, I thought we had hit a train. I phoned my University tutor to let him know we had been in a crash and would be late. It was now 9.40, I had been trapped underground in the smoke for 35 minutes. I waited in the ticket room on the floor to go to hospital. I phoned home and let my parents know I was ok, and I had been in a train crash. Someone came over to me and started pouring water over my face to wash the soot off, it didn’t work. He taped a massive wad of tissues against my head wound, it was sodden in seconds, eventually someone came along and bandaged it, they labelled me ‘Priority 3‘. Andy went into severe shock and began shaking uncontrollably, he said he was losing feeling in his arms. There was a woman next to me whose forearms were shredded. A journalist came up to me and asked me if I wanted to do a piece, I said yes, he disappeared. Eventually I was led outside, I was one of the last who could walk to leave Kings Cross, by this time it was about 10.15, outside Kings Cross resembled some sort of war zone, no public, no traffic, endless screeching of sirens and police holding the traffic at all junctions onto the road. Here I saw one of the worst things, a man in a suit, his back covered in lumps of other peoples flesh and sheets of burnt skin, Only now did I realize how bad the situation was. I asked a cop what had happened and he said one word: “bombs”.

I waited and got on a bus, we waited for half an hour, I was on the phone to my dad who was updating me, obviously we couldn’t move because by now the bus bomb had gone off. Nobody on the bus knew what had actually happened, as I was the only person who had a phone signal I was relaying what my dad was telling me to everyone. They looked back at me shocked, a young man behind me asked, “Why would they bomb us?” I replied, “Olympics“.

Eventually we moved and I went to Royal London Hospital, as we waited to pull into the hospital I looked outside, a TV crew was filming me, bandaged and looking out the window, this was aired on the day, and has been shown a few times since. I was led into the paediatric unit, into a corridor and onto a bed, they thought I had a broken skull, after checking it I didn't. I kept apologising for covering their sheets in black soot. One of the doctors asked where I was, I said “Piccadilly Line, 2nd carriage.“ She looked shocked, at this point it was believed the bomb was in the 2nd carriage. They kept cutting chunks of sticky bloody glass filled hair from my head. Having the glass pulled out from under my scalp and the stitches were the most painful thing I’ve ever been through. There was no time for an anaesthetic. All the back of my head, my ears and my neck was sprayed with glass from the window and was bleeding, as well as the long large cut, probably caused by a flying piece of metal. They checked my blood pressure and breathing, all clear. I put my hand in my pockets, each one was half filled with safety glass. I was more annoyed that the canteen was shut than I’d been in a bomb explosion, I was pumped with adrenalin which lasted till the Monday after. I left the hospital.

I flagged down a cab, he wanted £45 to Angel. I was covered in blood and debris, and he still wanted to rip us off! We walked back for 2 hours in the rain to Islington, we had no idea which way we were going. Everyone was staring at me and a few people were taking pictures of me on camera phones. I asked a shop keeper for the way to Islington, he said, “Are you ok? You look like you’ve been in a bomb.” All I could think to say was, “I was.” He was very apologetic.

We carried on and got to where I now know is Hackney, it’s not our fault, everyone, policemen and public told us the wrong way. I asked a group of 5 road workers for directions, they were asking if I was ok, before I knew it I had an audience of 15 people all wanting to know what happened on that train. As I carried on walking people were looking at me, they just knew where I had been, several people ‘crossed’ their chests with their hands when they saw me.

I didn’t care that it took me 2 hours in the rain, I was out and I was alive. We went past the business design centre in Islington, there was now a security barrier that wasn’t there the day before, they just let me through. Everyone from my uni’ was waiting to see if I was ok, we went in and everyone was hugging me and crying, my friends Mark and Nick who didn’t go to hospital and we lost in the Kings Cross evacuation didn’t really want to look at me, they had already showered and didn’t want reminding of it all. I got back and had a shower, I couldn’t wash my hair as I didn’t want to risk touching the wound. I made the mistake of taking a hot shower, this washed the smell into my skin and I stank of explosives for days, or maybe it was just up my nose and in my lungs. The inside of my nose was caked with dirt, as were my ears, the back of my throat had clumps of soot stuck to it, my eyelids had dirt caked on them when I looked in the mirror. Andy and Sam washed my hair for me, more and more hair blood and glass, it just kept coming and coming.

About 8.00pm I went for a walk with my friend Alan, we went to the Gherkin. I just looked at it, what the hell had happened today? I couldn’t face sleeping on my own that night, 3 of us shared one tiny room. I asked to leave the light on. I couldn’t sleep for hours, when I did, I dreamt I was stood in a train in the dark, and everyone had disappeared. I woke up at 6ish after about 30mins sleep. Despite what had happened I stayed in London till the Monday, and continued my efforts to present my work, everyone was to scared to come to London, my heart wasn’t in it at all.

Flu, counselling, Hillsborough, denial, anger, London, 'e' dates and folk music!

2006-02-19T11:35:00.002-08:00

What a week, every day had a different story, and I haven't had time to blog it all until now.

I started the week with what I thought was a cold, instead it developed into full blown flu, I was still ill when I went for my first ever counselling session, it's taken me 7 & 1/2 months to decide I need it and sort it all out. My counsellor was himself at the Hillsborough disaster, he was in the Liverpool end of the stand, almost crushed himself he witnessed 96 people crushed and trampled to death. He seems to understand what I'm going through, explaining that my emotions will peak and dip. It was surprisingly easy, but it did bring back some of the feelings of denial I've previously had. I have no idea why my mind sometimes convinces itself that what happened in London didn't happen at all, when I realise it did, it usually takes another half a day or a day to convince myself I was in it, and then I go into shock.

Every time I get these feelings of denial I go on the BBC page which animates (poorly) what happened that day and go to the "in pictures" section. I always look at the picture inside the bombed carriage as I can see where I was standing, with my back against the door which is no longer there because it was blown in on me, and what was left of it was pulled away by the first rescuers. I've never been depressed, but I do seem to have a 'phase' which comes round every 6 weeks or so, it always follows the same pattern, but can last a day, or a week. Firstly I get denial, then I look over all the old images, I get out the police evidence bag I had to present my clothes in, which now holds all the things I keep in connection to that day. My ticket, a photo, my priority 3 tag, hospital tag, memorial service booklets, my ticket from when I got back on the tube and my still unwashed bloodied shirt, the blood still has bits of glass caked in it and the neck is all black. The soot still smells of chemicals. And then I go into shock, it can last a few minutes as it did this week, or 4 days as it did last month.

Course when I get these feelings it takes me back to that day, question after question comes into my mind, "What were those peculiar announcements? Was it preventable? And why did they do it?" I will never get any clear answers about that day, I will never know, they don't want me to know. Hmmm... I wonder why? No prizes for guessing. All of this makes me stupidly angry, internally I am seething with rage!

As I've stated several times before, I feel nothing towards the bombers, my anger is directed at Anthony Blair and his pals in Westminster. I never voted for the prat. I always vote Liberal Democrat (probably not again, I'm officially a floating voter), yet he led us into an illegal war in our name, which pretty much caused the bombings, is so spineless he wont allow anyone near enough to find evidence of this and has now taken it upon himself to further defend this great country of ours against terrorism by trying to shush us and generally arrest us for no reason. Well, not to worry, if they carry on along this path I find it very hard to see how they will regain power, that is if they haven't messed up their chances already. I'm seeing a lot of traditional Labour voters getting fed up and looking elsewhere, most of the people who only recently voted for Labour have been distracted by David Camerons shiny shoes, and will soon get bored of Gordon Brown. Also, it looks pretty certain the next President of the USA will be Miss Hilary Clinton... I believe we will soon see a 'changing of the guard'. Fingers crossed!

Humanity in general seems to be a bit crap at the moment. Apparently it's now acceptable to be an outright racist bastard and voice this in public in the pub right next to me, or even at me. Even before they know anything about what happened to me. Hardly a day passes without me hearing someone mouthing off about "f*ck*ng P*kis!", someone last night when they found out about me shouted "Islamic tw*t!" No! You are the tw*t! IT'S YOU WHO IS THE TW*T! I'm sick of confronting people I know about their attitudes, I never win, they usually have some concept about how we would be safe if we kicked "them" all out the country. I assume by "them" they mean ALL non-white British citizens, I'm sorry but this is not 1942! You ignorant cunts! I've never experienced this level of casual racism before, and to be honest I think it's a North-West thing, I mean, quite a few idiots actually voted for the BNP in Burnley, says it all!

Maybe I'm the freak in all this, maybe it was my fault I went to University in Leicester, which is one third Muslim, and 50% non white, and thoroughly enjoyed my time there. All the way through Uni' I've lived with a whole mix of people, if I was to list their nationalities, backgrounds and religions I would be here all day. Apart from gang skirmishes it was totally peaceful, the only reason I moved back home was because I wanted to be with family after July. I wish I was back in Leicester, or at least out of my home town.

Then as if it was all planned, I heard of what seemed to be my dream job, junior designer at NOKIA, in London. I've applied, and will keep you posted, but I'm not getting too excited, I always do, and always lose out in the final interview round. But it brings up the question, could I move to London? I feel uneasy going there for the day, never mind living there, never mind... gulp... using the tube EVERY DAY. I'm actually quite happy about the prospect, it would tick every box I have at the moment. I want to move out, the job (or a similar job) sounds great, and it would give ultimate closure. The place which nearly murdered me, would now provide for me!

On Saturday I was supposed to be going on an 'e' date, at least that's what Holly Finch labelled it. It fell through at the first hurdle, her car broke down on the way to the train station, by the time the AA got out to her, she was covered in dirt and oil from the car, so she couldn't make it. Sorry to disappoint you all, there is no gossip, but it does make us more determined to meet up another time soon. I now had 2 tickets for a gig and wasn't going to waste them, I went on my own, a non intentional first. The band - The Concretes- were great, just the thing to blow away what's left of the Winter blues. They play a kind of mix of old fashioned Scandinavian pop and folk music, sounds awful but it's not. Imagine The Cardigans, only a bit more old-fashioned.

Well that's it, while I was writing this I've decided to publish my account of July 7th on here, I wrote it 2 weeks after it happened but never published it, expect it in a few days. It might be just the thing to get it out of my system once and for all, well, at least a bit.

Old self...

2006-02-13T05:56:00.000-08:00

I think that maybe, just maybe, I might be getting back to normal. I don't want to speak too soon but things seem to be coming together... at last!

Work wise I seem to be motivated again, I've spent 2 weeks working flat out on my first live project, a lighting system commisioned by an Italian company, which will be launched at the Frankfurt Design Show next month, (sounds like a good excuse for a holiday to me!). At first my mental stamina couldn't keep up with my enthusiasm and determination, but it's getting there now.

When that thing happened to me last year it wrote off the rest of the year for me, not only was I injured and traumatised but I had been robbed. It sounds so selfish to talk about my own small loss, but the events of last year did prevent me from getting a job. I had to move home, move in with my parents again, and go on the dole. My bubble had certainly been burst! It's hard enough to get good work as a new graduate in anything design based as it is, nevermind dealing with all that comes with what happened.

While I sat at home feeling sorry for myself, my coursemates got the jobs I wanted, in Berlin, Hong Kong and London, and kept telling me how great they were doing via email, I was incredibly jealous to be honest!

In other ways it has helped me, my once very close, almost claustrophobic group of friends has grown massively and I finally have friends whose conversations span much wider than last nights episode of Family Guy or South Park!

I'm embarassed to admit the next bit...

On Saturday I'm doing a first, I'm meeting someone of the internet. I know what you're thinking... but I'm not a geek, ok! Although it isn't a "date" as such, which would be just plain weird, I am really looking forward to it. Course it may be a complete disaster, but we're going watching a band called The Concretes, in Liverpool. A 9 person Swedish pop/folk/jazz band, so it should be fun if nothing else.

I'll let you know how it goes, and if the band is any good...

Just refreshing to talk about something else for a change.

Return of the rude pirate.

2006-02-11T06:49:00.000-08:00

The arse-hole is back. I tried to shut him up with whit, stating that "...as the pen is mightier than the sword, so to is the nerd mightier than the pirate..." But it didn't work.

Joking aside this guy is really pissing me off, I mean what sort of cretin starts calling someone in my situation "a girl" for suffering trauma. He keeps going on about how I don't actually care about what happened and I just want to "show off to the world that I was there.", and he's accusing me of "...going on and on about it...". I would post a picture of him but it would put you off your tea. Imagine Sloth from the Goonies.

The past few weeks I had been distracted by a hunger to understand more about the whole situation, and found myself at a level of contentment. I had come to the conclusion that I felt no feelings of hate towards any of the bombers, I actually feel sorry for them, that they felt this was their only option. I'm not sure I've forgiven them, but I don't hate them. But after this distraction some of the other more horrible feelings started creeping back in.

I don't hate the bombers, but I hate the bastard who's having a go at me. He's a complete idiot!

I got up this morning with a nasty cold, I've got a headache and my boss is bombarding me with work via email. We're pulling a late one to finish this project. The last thing I need is some nob-head having a go at me for talking about politics and July 7th.

I'm not going to reply to him, as that will annoy him even more. But I'm open to suggestions...