Last orders

I haven’t talked about Boris yet, but I will.

One of his first and most public changes has been to ban drinking or carrying open containers of alcohol on the tubes, buses, trams and DLR.  Finally, some civility being brought to our public transport; it’s just a shame this sort of thing has to be dictated and enforced.  Left to our own devices we’ve an antisocial, disrespectful and drunken lot.  While this won’t stop people being drunk on the tubes (anyone else travel on the Stockwell-Brixton section of the Northern Line on a Friday or Saturday night?), maybe removing the open can of Stella will remove some of the psychological licence to act like a prat?

On the continent you don’t, generally, drink out in public, let alone on the trains or buses and while this alone won’t fix the British disposition to abuse of alcohol, it does help to establish the principle that self-control is compatible with (public) civilised society; that the ‘freedom’ to deliberately become paralytic and defer responsibility to alcohol impinges on other peoples’ liberty to not be harrassed and intimidated.

Last night there was a final ‘bash’ on the tubes to mourn the passing of the ‘free’ country and whipped up by blogs such as Going Underground, which isn’t exactly a fan of Boris.  Perhaps those revellers should spend less time drunk on tiny claustrophobic overcrowded underground trains complaining about the banning of something that should be an intelligent person’s considered behaviour anyway and more time worrying about the ID card-demanding surveillance society we’re sleep-staggering into.

London Bomb Attack Terror Shocker

Heathrow grinds to a halt as a new threat is unveiled and more dawn raids on houses in London, Birmingham and High Wycombe. (Is it just me or does High Wycombe sound like the new Tora Bora?)

The ever-predictable and excitable Evening Standard came up with a typically reassuring and measured front page yesterday. Don’t get me wrong: I’m not belittling anything about the operation, the threat or the measures at Heathrow but every single time it’s such a fear-ridden, doom-laden, paranoia-spreading media opportunity: an almost American style response.

That said, when I was in New York the other week there wasn’t the element of suspicion, of panic, of drama I was dreading. Yes, security was tighter than when I was there 6 years ago but I found New Yorkers, well, fairly relaxed and reflective. I didn’t get a chance to check whether this Que Será, Será had extended to the media or to middle America but I have my doubts.

As for the UK watch this space for more attacks on the British public in the skies, on the tube and in the Palace of Westminster. When is the terror holding without trial legislation up for renewal?…

One final, related point: work has been on-the-ball in its internal communications advising of any specific threat to company operations and what the latest travel restrictions are. This morning a communicae said that ‘the national security situation remains fluid at the moment’; an unfortunate turn of phrase I thought.

Shame

Probably only right after the last post to make mention of yesterday’s announcement that no one would be charged with the killing of Jean Charles de Menezes in the wake of last year’s tube and bus bombings.

When I originally blogged the incident I was almost in awe of the response, how un-British, safe in the assumption that this really was a thwarted attempt at a suicide bombing. The truth slowly emerged… even making it to the desk of the Met Police Commissioner… eventually.

Maybe it’s right that no one person has been singled out for blame however hard this may be on the de Menezes family, maybe not. What a monumental and tragic cock-up though: how does such a break down in operational procedures and communication happen? In the heat of the moment, in the aftermath of a terror attack I suppose. But not only is that no excuse, how very un-British.

Silence on Oxford Street

It didn’t actually feel strange travelling into or being in central London today, one year on. Hope that’s a good, positive state of mind.

In fact you wouldn’t have known that it was anything other than an ordinary day unless you’d been near one of the memorial sites or until midday when a seemingly universally respected two minute silence started.

Starbucks baristas left their coffee machines, passing pedestrians stopped in their tracks and the traffic down Oxford Street ground to a halt. It was as though someone had pulled the plug on London and things just stopped.

A growl of diesel engines and a smattering of polite applause signalled the end and life simply returned to normal.