Indomitable spirit

This has been the most extreme week. Bombs have completely shaken this city.

Still trying to absorb everything and put it into words. It is incredible to be in the midddle of the explosions, the eye of the storm, where everything was eerily empty and calm knowing that underneath me and all around me there were rescue workers doing their hero thang.

Then to call home and speak to the family was so good. I wanted to cry when I heard their voices, but couldn't. My sister was just mad at me for not sending a postcard, and my dad extremely relieved. My mum calling in the middle of the night (must call her back). God, I love them all so much.

Speaking to the ex was the strangest. It was a 'could have been me, could have died' conversation and I should have felt lucky and intensely scared and full of life and love and appreciation. I wanted to say 'If anything had happened you know how I feel' but I didn't know how I felt. I was numb, probably shock. The Aussie reaction is to make a joke in the face of fear, which he did. A harmless joke about a mutual friend's viagra habit. But I felt a little disgusted with his response because I was in an office block only a few metres from a burning bus where at least 13 people died.

If it had been him... it would have been too awful to think about. But it was me that had the near miss and I don't know how to feel.

Of course, it wasn't just him making jokes. It was a general response from people on the other side of the world, and the same reaction I would have had if I hadn't been at the centre of it. Perfectly natural. But there were photos of people with their faces torn off in the papers. It's not the right time to speculate about who did it, or why, or whether it was deserved. It's not the right time for political commentary. Instead, it's all about stiff upper lip, Churchillian courage and carrying on with indomitable spirit.

As one commentator put it: "May I just remind you of one of those little rules that we have in our civilised society? We bury the dead and console the bereaved before we start making asinine political points."

I actually felt like a Londoner. It's a strange feeling, the feeling of belonging, because it's a transitory thing. I'm neither Australian, nor a Londoner. I'm straddling two worlds and am not completely in either.

It's funny because only a week ago I was quite lonely and thinking that if anything bad was to happen to me, would people notice that I had disappeared. Now I feel a bit more connected, like I do have a community here. Perhaps after Live8 and the Olympic win, people in old Blighty are more galvanised.

Interesting side note on how this was reported in The Guardian today.

On the whole, grateful to be alive and amazed at the spirit of Londoners. There was a man handing out cups of tea in the city. Doesn't get more British than that.