10 years ago a group of fantasists ripped great holes in the fabric of the city I love. They tore holes out of tube trains, a bus and most of all out of God's children.
They killed and maimed Christians, atheists, Muslims and others with equal hatred. Because this wasn't really about religion. It was the sublimation of teenage angst into an act of stupid adolescent rebellion.
10 years on, that cause those wannabes thought they were fighting for looks old hat, as ancient as the world that had such brick-like phones. People have thought up nastier ideologies since then. London, which devours its children with such hunger, feeding on youth and energy, has grown ever taller, ever noisier and brasher. Londoners are that most flexible and resilient group of people, and inhabit a city awash with hybrid vigour. It's taken countless plagues, a Great Fire, a Blitz. It moves on, gets on with the job of making money and celebrating life, just as it always does. It's got more life than an ideology of death.
If there is a God of justice - my justice, at least - then the murderers will be residing at a satanic pleasure and their victims will be in the place of glory. We have a God of love and I can't presume to do the judging for him. But I can pray for the victims - alive, that they are healed. The dead, that light will shine upon them forever.