I didn't think I would blog about this as I felt numb myself after the big weekend inspiration of Live8, pride in Saint Bob and his blessedly un-Irish persistence, followed so quickly by catastrophe. From Jaccqui Lofthouse's blog, this post on the Tube bombings.
Only last week, my husband came back from a day in town, telling me about having taken lunch in Tavistock Square. He remarked what a peaceful spot it was. Now that idyll is shattered. Oddly, I saw an ex-boyfriend speaking in Tavistock Square as an eye-witness yesterday. I hadn't seen him in twenty years. So far that's as close as I come to knowing those who witnessed it.
McEwan is right to speak of numbness. It's not emotional numbness I think, it's simply the body's way of expressing trauma...
I remember that feeling from a family collision with the Bali tragedy, and even from here I've done a mental check of whose kids are in London working. Thanks to Jacqui for her account.