The next day...

It's the day after the terrorist attacks, and everyone is trying to get back to normal. Partial service on the London underground has reopened, as has most of the bus service. Emily and I went to dinner last night with our new friend, the resilient 81 year old Joyce. She's a retired plastic surgery nurse that spent most of her career at an innovative clinic. She kept us entertained with stories of precocious patients with everything from modified hands to burns to sex changes. Afterwards, Emily and walked about twenty minutes to a large park (can't remember the name) and enjoyed a traditional English garden before stopping for a coffee at one of the few restaurants that were still open. After a long conversation, we eventually went to sleep.

Now wer'e off for Westminster. I won't lie- the thought of getting on a tube or a bus this morning is pretty upsetting. On the telly they were interviewing survivors, who were talking about how they won't let the attacks change them. One man was asked whether or not this would discourage him from taking the tube, and he said that it wouldn't, and that it wasn't likely to happen again in the same place. The logic of this is rather odd, as if the attacks were some random natural disaster rather than a planned terrorist attack that could just as easily occur again, barring detection from security. Oh well, times up on the internet account.