This time ten years ago, we were sat in the lounge of our old house, waiting for the time to tick by so that we could go to our new GP for our initial check-ups. Sarah was feeling ill that day, I remember.
The TV was on. Some meaningless soap or other – Doctors, perhaps – was just finishing. The screen flickered, changed to an image of two huge towers. One of them was burning.
It took a few seconds for the news anchor to start speaking; until that point we thought we were watching a trailer for some disaster movie or other.
Ten years on, then. How the world has changed, and in many ways not for the better. Everything’s that little bit less nice, that bit less kind than it used to be. I don’t see that trend reversing itself any time soon, but I’m no futurist; maybe I’ll be wrong.
I don’t really have any right to go on about how the day affected me. It did so in a tangential, detached way; I was lucky enough to not know anyone in or around any of the buildings that were attacked. Today, my thoughts are with the people who lost loved ones and with the people who survived. I don’t think any of the survivors would claim to have come out unscathed; I know many are still battling with the physical and mental scars to this day, and may well do so for the rest of their lives.
There you are: no profundities today; just a summary of my state of mind.