I wrote this on 7.7.2005:
Yesterday Kevin and I stood in Trafalgar Square and yippeed our hearts out as London was granted the 2012 Olympics. Everyone was so happy and excited.
This morning, I drove for hours looking for a way out of London, listening to the radio, and crying. Buses screeched by, the only passengers being the brave and grim-mouthed drivers, heading pell mell for the garage and a safety check.
I have just come from having a quiet moment in Bath Abbey, where a hastily erected board by the front door invites people to enter and pray for London, for Britain. Two American women stood posing next to the sign, and laughingly asked their lensman whether they should cry for the camera.
For the eightieth time today, I asked myself just what the hell possesses some people to do what they do.
Then I passed an elderly Jamaican man with a guitar who was busking on the High Street. He was singing, “Get up, stand up, all you British people, don’t give up the fight.”