I have seen my country destroyed by war, I have seen how it’s effected people physically and mentally. Experienced an air raid and can remember very vividly how war can rip a country apart. A journey I made when I was no more than 8 years old with my father’s cousins, effectively set the course for what I want to achieve in this world (of which it sometimes feels I’ve not even begun that particular part of my life). They took us on a whirlwind tour of Lebanon, and we ended up in Beirut. Their aim was to have me experience Bliss House; a fresh fruit cocktail place (which I hold a very special place in my heart for) right opposite the AUB (American University of Beirut). We passed through streets upon streets of charcoal buildings, ready to fall over. Streets were filled with mud, children playing in the streets without any shoes. Bullet holes everywhere. From the cars to the buildings and everything in between. Scenes like this get burned into a person’s memory.

When Rafik was killed 6 months ago, this is what I feared would happen to the country again. For a while that is exactly what was being contemplate. As you can imagine that scared me. What followed was weekly bomb explosions all over the city. As asshole wanker cunts wanted to get some sort of reaction going from the people and pull them apart. This tactic was used in the 80s. Ignorance like this wasn’t going to be let through. While I was there (a little over a month ago) the editor of one of the most important Lebanese newspapers was killed in a car bomb during broad daylight.

I’ve become desensitized to bombs and destruction. London’s been my home for nearly 3 years now. I can actually finally feel comfortable, and at home here, as I did all those years ago in Nottingham. The attacks yesterday don’t' shock me, because I’ve seen this (and worse) countless times before. It upsets me sure, but it doesn’t shock me. However for the next couple of weeks I know what’s on everyone’s minds when they enter the tube. ‘What if a bomb goes off now?’ and a sense of claustrophobia kicks in and the wagon is too small for an ant.

As I’ve found out today, London is the most bombed city in all of Europe, so the police and all the emergency people were completely prepared for this situation, and they’ve seriously done an amazing job I’m sure of containing the casualties.

Aside: Turns out there wasn’t a bomb in Euston. What Stathi experienced was much worse, it’s just that he was in such a shock that he couldn’t express himself fully. Basically he was on the train after the one that blew up in Kings Cross. Everyone was evacuated from the tube station in Euston (which is one stop before King’s Cross). The streets were obviously packed, so he decided to walk to work rather than get a bus. At this point everything is still under the pretense that it’s a power surge. So he’s walked down the street and decides to grab a milkshake on his walk to Old Street.

After he gets out he walks to the corner and 20m in front of him the bus in Tavistock square blows up. In front of him. Smoke. Debris. He doesn’t wait, he just runs in the opposite direction. He’s not waiting for another bomb to go off.

At work there was no point in trying to do any work, there was absolutely no concentration.