Eight Years Down The Line

Eight Years Down The Line
Image: Tim Pearce

I remember it like yesterday. It was a normal working day until an email from a friend on a day off, arrived in my inbox: “A plane just hit the World Trade Centre.”

Most of us thought it was a stupid email joke until the phones starting ringing, several more emails arrived, and the work Internet conenctions crashed with the weight of traffic from people desperate to find out more about what was happening.

Surely it was a tragic accident? Then another email: “Someone just flew another plane into the WTC. Prepare for World War III.” Later, the feeling that a change in the world was being witnessed sank slowly in, but my immediate reaction was of unbelievable shock. It just didn’t seem possible, or humanly probable.

I left work early and rushed home, almost unsure if I should even turn on the television when I got there. I had seen no images of the event to that point. I sat and stared at my television, and at the events unfolding in New York for hours; image after image and video loop after video loop, each time feeling more shock and revulsion than before. Those poor people trapped—their families and friends—how would they ever get over something like this? And what did it mean for the world? Who, on earth, could possibly think up such an atrocious act?

Of course, we soon found out and all these answers became known. Eight years on I still feel anger when I think of those people who died. 3000+ lives lost in a single terrorist act. These people, and their loved ones, are the people we should be thinking of today, not the ones who planned and executed it. May they rest in peace. God bless America.


Today is day two without my wife. No, she’s not left me, she’s in London with her friend to attend a wedding in posh Buckinghamshire. I’m too much of a west coaster to be invited to something so upmarket, which is absolutely fine by me because it means I can get a shed load of work done and eat carry outs all the time, heh heh.

The real reason—in case Gail reads this—is because I don’t know the person who’s getting married and Gail does, and she is there to help out her pal who is the bridesmaid. I would only get in the way.

The wedding ceremony is today but they are staying on until Monday to see the sights of London together. The bit about carry outs was true. Tonight could be Chinese night, though I really should have a pizza seeing as I haven’t had one for almost two weeks now. I’ll keep the curry until Sunday. I love a hot one the nigh before returning to work. 🙂

I stayed up far too late last night as a result of being in the house myself, and then had a nightmare this morning when I dreamed I didn’t wake for work until 11:30am. I thought it had actually happened and I panicked. Then I saw the clock; I had slept in, but it was only 7am. Phew!

Living on my own again feels weird. It’s good to have the house quiet, plenty of room and no automatic mess making, but it’s rubbish having nobody to talk to or annoy. I wish I had a dog so I could least have a decent conversation with someone, then I wouldn’t have to resort to having to talk to myself as usual. Or the bunnies; they just eat and shit.

I’ve been busy the last couple of nights. To summarise in short because I have lots more to do today, I’ve been working on BACCARA BURNING, the spine-tingler story (title to be changed—it’s currently called THE BLIND MAN OF CATHKIN STREET), a client’s website, some poems, two interviews, submission turnarounds, and the article for the Ray LaMontagne gig, which is providing extremely difficult. I’ll be amazed if it gets published to be honest.

Right, on with today. Hope you all have a good one, and remember to spare a few moments for those who are mourning and remembering.

Stella by Colin Galbraith – available now from Eternal Press – www.eternalpress.ca

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About Colin Galbraith

Keen runner, thriller author, Madness fan, Mets fan, St Mirren fan/owner, rabbit tamer, outstanding fake faller. Loves cannolis & espressos. #LFGM
This entry was posted in Day Job, Editorial Comment, Family, Food, Drink and Bevvy, Poetry, Writing and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to Eight Years Down The Line

  1. Yeah, it’s about those who died and their families, and i’m annoyed by the constant attempts at commercialization that happen here.

    Enjoy your time with your writing! It’s almost like a home-based writing retreat!

  2. Binny says:

    I would get a pizza tonight Cols for 2 reasons:

    (1) As mentioned you haven’t had one for almost 2 weeks now – goodness knows how you have survived this! 😉

    (2) We will be getting a chinese next weekend 🙂

  3. Binny says:

    ps. swithering between a Chinese and pizza masel….

    We’re the SAME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! *ROAR*

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