Nine years ago today, 52 people were killed on public transport in London. 700 were injured. Doesn't seem real it's nine years ago, feels like...months, maybe. Sometimes far far less.
And, as with all such happenings, as people ran, shocked, injured, horrified, other people went to help. Tube staff, police, bystanders. Some people who were down in those tunnels, injured themselves, didn't run, didn't leave, even though they could. They stayed and they saved lives.
I was at work, not one of the first responders, but once it became clear the scale of what had happened, teams were dispatched.
I worked on the Piccadilly, where the most people died. It was a long, painstaking investigation, with pressure to both explain who had been responsible, how they had done it, why they had done it, and also - and it is important, no matter how mundane it sounds - to get the transport system back working. And to allow the friends and families of the dead to mourn and move on. And that's hard, when the damage to the bodies is so vast. You don't get to see a body, have a final moment, say a proper goodbye.
Anyway, been thinking about that a lot today, as I've spent the day with John, and waved Mycroft off to work, and thought about a lot of things.
And now I've been writing this for bloody ages and still not written anything. I don't think I'm 100% back to normal. Or maybe I'm just examining everything I do too closely now. I feel like I keep sort of...zoning out. Or forgetting what I was doing/saying.
On Saturday, we were...well, I still can't say too much, but I'd been in communication with this man. On a Gay Sex Chatline. Because that had been the one link in a series of cases.
We expected him to try and talk me into going back to his. We didn't expect him to slip a drug in my drink. Or...well, I still don't know how he did it.
Luckily I had a wire on, and there were other officers in the club. So when I stopped talking, Sal could call up someone to get a bit closer, check up on me, and they knew something was up.
Ketamine, when you take enough, paralyses you. Your mind still works fine, or mine did, to begin with, except...yeah, well, before I even knew what was happening I was in trouble. The music was immense, I could feel it, it was as if it was slow motion, washing over me, and the lights were all...instead of strobes, they were wrapping around me, like something sci-fi.
I don't really know how to describe it. And it felt like it took a long time, hours, days maybe. Even when John arrived, it took me hours to reach him, because the noises and the lights still had me. I thought I was reaching out to him, but I wasn't. And anyway, he wasn't real.
The most lasting thing, I guess, the thing I still feel, in an odd way, was that I was incredibly lonely.
Upshot is, I think it's for the best that I don't go to the boat. Mycroft and I will have a nice night in, John can cope with what will seem like hundreds of tiny banshees all refusing to sleep, in a confined space, and we'll think of him as we relax with some gourmet food and maybe a bottle of wine ;)
2 July 2014
Is it worth the aggravation, To find yourself a job when there's nothing worth working for?
It's Mycroft's first day at work tomorrow. They're going to see how he gets on, and if he's happy to, he's going to work the weekend too, to help with the rush.
If he doesn't feel ready, he'll just work weekdays for now, starting before the lunch rush until they close. But I've a feeling he'll do fine.
He's got a little apron to wear, and a black waistcoat, white shirt, black trousers - looks very smart! He actually seems sad not to be wearing a tie though, odd boy :)
Obviously we're all thinking about the freebies...I mean, wishing him well.
Sherlock already wants to visit. Which has led to low-level bickering of the sort only siblings can manage to keep going for so long.
In the allotment, our beans are growing up, our tomatoes are shooting away now, and even our spring onions, which everyone doubted, seem to be doing okay.
Lettuce is just an ongoing battle.
Work is really eating at me at the moment. I can't tell you all anything about the op, but...it's not much fun. And although I'm happy that I'm the right person to run the op, and when we catch the guy, it will be very much for the good, I'm not enjoying it.
When I was younger, people used to call me a 'pretty boy'. And I can't pretend I didn't use that, sometimes, to my advantage. But I definitely grew to hate it, too. What it was used as shorthand for. And when I joined the force, it changed, but people still thought I was younger, less experienced, than I was. People didn't take me seriously, I guess it boiled down to. Everyone always says coppers are getting younger, so I suppose having a young face didn't help. Didn't help with my confidence either, at first, especially with my background. Like I said to DW the other day, I felt like a fraud, for many reasons - my background, my sexuality, some of my ... thoughts on the people we locked up, the people we dealt with. Of course, when everyone's on refs talking about the scum down the local estate, the slag who's been sexually assaulted by the drunk boyfriend, you don't get to fight back, to say it could have been any one of us, because that's not how it works.
Of course now, now I'm more comfortable in my own skin, now I have the rank, I can speak up, and I do. And maybe sometimes that's the only way you can win the battles, by doing what you can, when you can, and accepting there are some fights it's not worth picking.
There were definitely times I thought I was in the wrong place. But I suppose whenever I really thought about anything else I could be doing, I just knew this was where I should be. And I knew I would never forgive myself if I gave it up. But it could easily have been the other way - knowing it wasn't right, and setting out on a new path.
Anyway, didn't quite mean to get sidetracked by all that. And now Sherlock is hanging off me wanting fruit with ice cream and John is trying to untie a knot in Maf's favourite fishy toy whilst she valiantly tries to kill it.
And here's a page John showed me earlier, to cheer me up. Can't believe the cheek of the florist though!! They must read this blog ;)
If he doesn't feel ready, he'll just work weekdays for now, starting before the lunch rush until they close. But I've a feeling he'll do fine.
He's got a little apron to wear, and a black waistcoat, white shirt, black trousers - looks very smart! He actually seems sad not to be wearing a tie though, odd boy :)
Obviously we're all thinking about the freebies...I mean, wishing him well.
Sherlock already wants to visit. Which has led to low-level bickering of the sort only siblings can manage to keep going for so long.
In the allotment, our beans are growing up, our tomatoes are shooting away now, and even our spring onions, which everyone doubted, seem to be doing okay.
Lettuce is just an ongoing battle.
Work is really eating at me at the moment. I can't tell you all anything about the op, but...it's not much fun. And although I'm happy that I'm the right person to run the op, and when we catch the guy, it will be very much for the good, I'm not enjoying it.
When I was younger, people used to call me a 'pretty boy'. And I can't pretend I didn't use that, sometimes, to my advantage. But I definitely grew to hate it, too. What it was used as shorthand for. And when I joined the force, it changed, but people still thought I was younger, less experienced, than I was. People didn't take me seriously, I guess it boiled down to. Everyone always says coppers are getting younger, so I suppose having a young face didn't help. Didn't help with my confidence either, at first, especially with my background. Like I said to DW the other day, I felt like a fraud, for many reasons - my background, my sexuality, some of my ... thoughts on the people we locked up, the people we dealt with. Of course, when everyone's on refs talking about the scum down the local estate, the slag who's been sexually assaulted by the drunk boyfriend, you don't get to fight back, to say it could have been any one of us, because that's not how it works.
Of course now, now I'm more comfortable in my own skin, now I have the rank, I can speak up, and I do. And maybe sometimes that's the only way you can win the battles, by doing what you can, when you can, and accepting there are some fights it's not worth picking.
There were definitely times I thought I was in the wrong place. But I suppose whenever I really thought about anything else I could be doing, I just knew this was where I should be. And I knew I would never forgive myself if I gave it up. But it could easily have been the other way - knowing it wasn't right, and setting out on a new path.
Anyway, didn't quite mean to get sidetracked by all that. And now Sherlock is hanging off me wanting fruit with ice cream and John is trying to untie a knot in Maf's favourite fishy toy whilst she valiantly tries to kill it.
And here's a page John showed me earlier, to cheer me up. Can't believe the cheek of the florist though!! They must read this blog ;)
23 June 2014
But, keep it up, honey, You're the best time I've ever had
I got a score right! It's been a while ;)
Tennis..not so good.
Baking, very good!! Tried a new recipe out, after Sherlock said he wanted banoffee pie, and this was the result...
Not that there's that much left now! And rightfully so, all that fresh cream...anyway, it has fruit in it, so it's healthy, right?
Work's been busy, and I've got some time off at the end of this week - Thurs-Sunday, so I can spend some time with John, and be around for Mycroft's return!
I managed to get to the gym in my 'lunchbreak' today - we've got one at the yard. Of course, the result of that was just being completely starving for the rest of the afternoon, so...well, that wasn't the intention.
Last night Maf was pouncing on one of her toys and attached herself to the carpet - she does that often enough, but this time she struggled free and ripped a claw. She then shot off, limping, to hide under the kitchen cupboards. John, being cat-extractor in chief, went into action.
I gave helpful advice. Like 'grab her!'.
He managed to get her out, and I tried to hold her while he had a look at her paw, but she's like a greasy eel, and in the end we had to cocoon her in a towel. She didn't take kindly to it, and bit me. But John did finally manage to get most of her in the towel, with the paw in question out of the towel, and removed a scraggly bit of nail, stopped the bleeding and then taped one of Sherlock's socks to her leg (not to her fur, obviously) so she couldn't lick it. Anyway, she seems okay today, just limping about, but John says there's no swelling or infection, so we're just going to try and keep her claws a bit shorter to stop it happening again. She generally doesn't mind being held and stuff.
Tennis..not so good.
Baking, very good!! Tried a new recipe out, after Sherlock said he wanted banoffee pie, and this was the result...
Not that there's that much left now! And rightfully so, all that fresh cream...anyway, it has fruit in it, so it's healthy, right?
Work's been busy, and I've got some time off at the end of this week - Thurs-Sunday, so I can spend some time with John, and be around for Mycroft's return!
I managed to get to the gym in my 'lunchbreak' today - we've got one at the yard. Of course, the result of that was just being completely starving for the rest of the afternoon, so...well, that wasn't the intention.
Last night Maf was pouncing on one of her toys and attached herself to the carpet - she does that often enough, but this time she struggled free and ripped a claw. She then shot off, limping, to hide under the kitchen cupboards. John, being cat-extractor in chief, went into action.
I gave helpful advice. Like 'grab her!'.
He managed to get her out, and I tried to hold her while he had a look at her paw, but she's like a greasy eel, and in the end we had to cocoon her in a towel. She didn't take kindly to it, and bit me. But John did finally manage to get most of her in the towel, with the paw in question out of the towel, and removed a scraggly bit of nail, stopped the bleeding and then taped one of Sherlock's socks to her leg (not to her fur, obviously) so she couldn't lick it. Anyway, she seems okay today, just limping about, but John says there's no swelling or infection, so we're just going to try and keep her claws a bit shorter to stop it happening again. She generally doesn't mind being held and stuff.
17 June 2014
Now, when twilight dims the sky above, Recalling thrills of our love
Well, Brazil haven't had a dream start, have they?? Mind you, neither have England.
Work is busy - it's been hot, money is tight, the football is on, summer holidays are coming... it's all a perfect storm for frayed tempers, too much alcohol, too little...I don't know, care? Empathy?
Have mainly dealt with serious assaults, recently. Mainly fuelled by drugs or alcohol and over money. It's all very...tiring, I guess. The daily grind of people stuck, living in the same places as their attackers, sometimes even with counter-allegations, sets of neighbours at war, people in the same house at war, kids at war. It really just gets you down.
However, returning home is always lovely, with the footy, Sherlock leaping about, frequently topless, as if getting fully changed after school is just too much time wasted.
Sometimes pursued by Maf, if her Mafness isn't too busy having a snooze in the sun. Although she is a bit brighter and less destructive now she's lost her lampshade.
Here's a pic of Mycroft's latest effort, given that I imagine not many of us will ever see this for ourselves...
Work is busy - it's been hot, money is tight, the football is on, summer holidays are coming... it's all a perfect storm for frayed tempers, too much alcohol, too little...I don't know, care? Empathy?
Have mainly dealt with serious assaults, recently. Mainly fuelled by drugs or alcohol and over money. It's all very...tiring, I guess. The daily grind of people stuck, living in the same places as their attackers, sometimes even with counter-allegations, sets of neighbours at war, people in the same house at war, kids at war. It really just gets you down.
However, returning home is always lovely, with the footy, Sherlock leaping about, frequently topless, as if getting fully changed after school is just too much time wasted.
Sometimes pursued by Maf, if her Mafness isn't too busy having a snooze in the sun. Although she is a bit brighter and less destructive now she's lost her lampshade.
Here's a pic of Mycroft's latest effort, given that I imagine not many of us will ever see this for ourselves...
13 June 2014
Then I awake and look around me, at the four grey walls that surround me
Well...football. Silly old game, eh?
I love the recent quote on the pitch England have their first match on (much has been made recently of the fact it doesn't look very good) "It's looking a lot better today, a lot greener...that's because they've painted it." Ah well, as long as it LOOKS okay, what else matters?
Oh, crap...torn now. Want the Dutch to do well, as they're mine in the sweeps! But I wanted it to end 1-1 for our little competition. (okay, with this scoreline, I'm quite enjoying it again!!) And I LOVE the spray for free kicks. We should definitely get that over here.
Today has been a tedious one where I decided I had to clear my paperwork piles of 'non urgent' things, because it couldn't really get any bigger without being a health hazard.
My signature is on a par with a doctor's - just a squiggle, doesn't even resemble anything any more. So I've been squiggling, adding notes, and staring out of the window waiting for home time.
And now I have what feels like the start of a migraine.... will it stop me drinking this nice mojito? Probably not...
For those of you struggling, the last lyrics which formed the post title were Oasis, and some of the video for the song were filmed at Southend, where we were. :)
I love the recent quote on the pitch England have their first match on (much has been made recently of the fact it doesn't look very good) "It's looking a lot better today, a lot greener...that's because they've painted it." Ah well, as long as it LOOKS okay, what else matters?
Oh, crap...torn now. Want the Dutch to do well, as they're mine in the sweeps! But I wanted it to end 1-1 for our little competition. (okay, with this scoreline, I'm quite enjoying it again!!) And I LOVE the spray for free kicks. We should definitely get that over here.
Today has been a tedious one where I decided I had to clear my paperwork piles of 'non urgent' things, because it couldn't really get any bigger without being a health hazard.
My signature is on a par with a doctor's - just a squiggle, doesn't even resemble anything any more. So I've been squiggling, adding notes, and staring out of the window waiting for home time.
And now I have what feels like the start of a migraine.... will it stop me drinking this nice mojito? Probably not...
For those of you struggling, the last lyrics which formed the post title were Oasis, and some of the video for the song were filmed at Southend, where we were. :)
8 June 2014
The day's moving just too fast for me, I need some time in the sunshine
This morning we escaped the city, the buildings, the crime, the grime...and went to the seaside.
Sherlock, reliably, woke us up horrifically early, and was only pacified by offerings of food and drink for a very short while.
We dragged John out of bed, stuck him on his bike, mounted up on mine and....got as far as The City. Where we stopped for coffee and food, given John had woken up, and it was definitely going to be a multiple-coffee sort of day.
It was nice being out so early, passing all of the sights in London with the roads virtually to ourselves.
Then, with the sun already beating down on us, we were off.
It was still surprisingly quiet when we reached our destination - Southend. Home of the cockney beach-goer ;)
The water was flat calm - we'd actually arrived at slack water, so even flatter than it was the rest of the time.
Sherlock, reliably, woke us up horrifically early, and was only pacified by offerings of food and drink for a very short while.
We dragged John out of bed, stuck him on his bike, mounted up on mine and....got as far as The City. Where we stopped for coffee and food, given John had woken up, and it was definitely going to be a multiple-coffee sort of day.
It was nice being out so early, passing all of the sights in London with the roads virtually to ourselves.
Then, with the sun already beating down on us, we were off.
It was still surprisingly quiet when we reached our destination - Southend. Home of the cockney beach-goer ;)
The water was flat calm - we'd actually arrived at slack water, so even flatter than it was the rest of the time.
3 June 2014
Where you come from? Do you put the kettle on?
for those of you asking, the cock-up tin at work is where people have to donate money when they...well, clue's in the name, cock-up.
Cocking up involves losing equipment - cuffs, radios, phones, warrant cards, cars, big keys, all sorts. Suspects, sometimes. Forgetting things - lots of the above, plus warrants. Breaking things - most frequently cars.
It's used to buy us a few rounds of drinks at Christmas, the rest goes to COPS.
And yes, I've made quite a lot of donations over the years.
Anyway, i got the Netherlands in the sweepstake. Not too shabby.
Sal got Iran. Don't talk to her about it.
But definitely sign up for Joolz predictions game!
It's just for fun.
Tomorrow, poor little Maf is going to be...coming back from the vet with less than she went with.
She's sitting on John right now, getting her ears scratched, blissfully unaware. (She may read this later, and terminate us in our sleep. If so, good bye. Nice knowing you.)
I do feel sorry for her, even though I'm sure it's for the best. And she definitely needs the op before the dogs and everyone are back home and it gets manic again. She'll need some time to sit about looking sorry for herself, probably in a cone of shame, being spoiled rotten.
We've had an epic bedtime battle tonight - because Mycroft told Sherlock that, technically, London would not enter night-time again until...July sometime. Sherlock thought this meant he didn't have to go to bed. He still does. But still, interesting to know that we're far enough North that we don't technically enter 'night' for a portion of the year.
Cocking up involves losing equipment - cuffs, radios, phones, warrant cards, cars, big keys, all sorts. Suspects, sometimes. Forgetting things - lots of the above, plus warrants. Breaking things - most frequently cars.
It's used to buy us a few rounds of drinks at Christmas, the rest goes to COPS.
And yes, I've made quite a lot of donations over the years.
Anyway, i got the Netherlands in the sweepstake. Not too shabby.
Sal got Iran. Don't talk to her about it.
But definitely sign up for Joolz predictions game!
It's just for fun.
Tomorrow, poor little Maf is going to be...coming back from the vet with less than she went with.
She's sitting on John right now, getting her ears scratched, blissfully unaware. (She may read this later, and terminate us in our sleep. If so, good bye. Nice knowing you.)
I do feel sorry for her, even though I'm sure it's for the best. And she definitely needs the op before the dogs and everyone are back home and it gets manic again. She'll need some time to sit about looking sorry for herself, probably in a cone of shame, being spoiled rotten.
We've had an epic bedtime battle tonight - because Mycroft told Sherlock that, technically, London would not enter night-time again until...July sometime. Sherlock thought this meant he didn't have to go to bed. He still does. But still, interesting to know that we're far enough North that we don't technically enter 'night' for a portion of the year.
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