7/7/06

And it seemed that the light changed, grew more insistent; something mixed and dramatic and with great purpose rose up from the summit of Cat Bells toward the sky rather than the other way around - pale it was in the middle but bleeding out to a blue-grey and it parted in some manner so that a beam appeared to illuminate the summit. This as the transistor radio I had perched between two thick branches on an evergreen chimed mid-day. Big Ben, once an everyday vision, now so very far away. As I stood in the garden here, looking out over the lake toward that fell, I remembered the way we had all stood in silence last year, a week to the day after those bombings; how the whole city had stopped and became as quiet as it was here today (despite even the RAF practice run reminding us we are at war). Nothing and no-one moved then as now; Cat Bells and that odd formation of light, changing, outpouring, taken up then down across the hillside with a bitter wind ensuing later - sometimes I like nothing better than to break the mould and remove myself from what everyone else is doing, I'll often seek out solitude over company, but not today - to day it felt keener because of the unified commemorations elsewhere, and most importantly in the city I once thought of, until recently, as my home. I wanted above all to see the faces of my friends there, to look upon them living strong, courageous - with all that might keep them safe -