Sunday, 4 June 2017


I was in London last night at the Opera, watching LElixir of Love at the ROH.  Its a happy opera, so rare these days.  As I left, London was buzzing and I walked through Covent Garden.  Such an interesting place, you forget how good it is because the tourists never do.   There was a woman singing her heart out to a blues song and the restaurants were full of sushi, falafel, German sausage eating smily people.  
I got home to turn on the radio and find there had been a shooting. I texted Tom who is with his dad in London. In the City. No reply.  So I texted his dad.    Tom replied. I am fine. Its not a terrorist, he texted back sagely.   He's fine, his dad replied.  

But how many mothers texted their sons that night and didn't get a response. Not because they are at that monosyllabic age but because they're dead, stabbed in some hellish lottery for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.  

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