Wednesday, 10 August 2011
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.
Posted by Ellie at 21:53