Vigil

I went to the vigil in Trafalgar Square last night.

It was quite crowded, but also very still. It was hot, and the sky was clear. The sun was reflecting off all the off-white buildings around us. There we were, by the National Art Gallery, by Canada House, St. Martins-in-the-fields-church, under Nelson's column, with a view of Parliament and the Union Jack. Roasting but as serene as the structures around us.

Ken Livingston, the Mayor, gave a wonderful and inspirational speech. There were other speakers such as Trevor McDonald, Jo Brand, several religious leaders (the least inspirational of the lot apart from the Poetry Slammers), Richard&Judy, Michael Greco (yes, Beppe from Eastenders *shudder*), the London Metropolitan Police, the tube driver from the Edgware train, the driver of the N 30 bus, the fire department and the paramedics. The last few deservedly received the most applause and cheering.

I was standing on the plaza on the St. Martin's side outside the National Art Gallery so couldn't actually see the speakers themselves. I was right by the section cordoned off for the families of the victims, which was a bit harrowing.

The families had a book of condolences for themselves on a table that was against the balcony overlooking the square. It had a white table cloth and lilies on it.

A few feet from there they had a marquee with a clear view of the speakers below, plus waiting staff with refreshments and sandwiches.

A young Asian woman with long hair, a short flowing green skirt and white top sat down at the book and started written, but after a few moments she began to cry and then sobbed with the pen in hand. A middle aged man (perhaps her father) came over to comfort him but began to weep himself. It was so hearbreaking. I felt like I was invading their very private and intimate mourning.

Then another family came by. A middle aged blonde woman wrote her bit and then bent her head over the banister and started sobbing. Then the VERY BAD IDEA "Poetry Slammers" or whatever came on and did a very inappropriate hip hop tribute with human beat box. It was loud, far too long and very disrespectful as the number contained terms like "mangled bodies", and made references to people being trapped and dead, which I thought was in incredibly poor taste. They were also rubbish rappers. The blonde woman was then led away by her family and the left.


After two hours of poetry and with no end in sight I decided to leave but I am glad I went. I heard a very beautiful poem about London from a Poet whose name I can't remember (Francesca). It was about the view from Primrose Hill and it was the most London thing I have ever heard. It was gorgeous.