Riot Not Predicted

When the Sunday morning news covered the Tottenham riots, I didn't think much of it.  Tottenham is a world away from my London.  That's how London is:  it is so expansive that the other side of town seems like a different city.  Plus, I was in Madrid, so the images came via the Internet and without personal commentary.  On Monday, I flew to London for work.    Violence, looting, rioting:  none of all that was on my mind.  In the office, there was the occasional joke about free TVs.  The HR woman began sending out emails advising employees to check the appropriate url for updates on recent events and informing us to check with our line managers if we thought we would need more time than normal to get safely home.

What?


Proximity has pushed me to tuning in more closely.  The TV and radio waves are almost exclusively dedicated to images of burning buildings and bands of youths looting (mainly of big television sets).  A colleague at works arrives in the morning with the verbal description of a shop that his bus has passed by:  completely emptied of its wares with the exception of a sign that boasts to offer "The Best of Britain".  My colleague describes it with humour.  Typically British:  the irony.  He regrets his lack of dexterity; he wasn't able to get a picture.  I chuckle at my colleagues description and relay an anecdote of my own (non rioting related) from my morning commute.  I did have the presence of mind and quickness of hand to snap a picture of an old man outside the Chelsea and Westminster hospital - obviously a patient - who was out getting fresh air in order to smoke a cigarette.  Still my mind had not been fully turned to the primary situation facing the UK.

Now I sit watching the BBC with its studio outfitted in its iconic red accents.  A father lost his 21 year old son in Birmingham last night.  He speaks out with calm and composure pleading for people to stay indoors and out of trouble.  "Please don't try to avenge my son's death" he implores.  There isn't room for humour any longer.  London, England, the UK is ashamed.  Anarchy's face is grim.