Tickets, Money, Passport?

I finally, after a year, managed to get the interweb working at home the other week. It's not something I'll use regularly, broadband being am absolute necesity. However, after the 'London Alerts' today I felt it prudent to blog if only to say that as of when I write and look out of the window, I am, technically, inside the police cordon. From the balcony I can see a couple of police officers and a police 'do not cross tape' and the most bizarre sight of all, a silent and traffic free Hackney Road. I think the thing I was most bothered by was the news reports referring to a 'bomb' explosion in Hackney. When clearly I live in Shoreditch, for minimum points I'll accept Bethnal Green. Not that there is anything wrong with Hackney nor Bethnal Green, it's just technically wrong.

I'm not sure I'll be able to sleep, not because I'm afraid but because I need my lullaby of sirens.

We went to the pub after work whilst we waited for tubes to re-open and traffic to clear, by the time we'd finished taking the piss out of the rubbish bombers of today they were the 'Emily Howard' of suicide bombers.

I must conclude, it's getting late and I still have half a bottle of pink zinfandel to help me to the land of nod.

Oh and by the way, the cricket, such joy and such misery all in one day. C'mon you Poms, pick up your game.

Night kids
xx