[m i a o w] the cat

In case anyone is interested, my Small Brother, who I was just speaking to last night in response to his text message which read:
“God damnit! Turn your god damn phone on! There is phone coverage in Victoria!” (referring to my dodgy phone reception for the past week and a half) is fine, and was not on the Tube or in a bus at the time of the bombs. Luckily for him, because if that had been the last text message I’d received from him, it would have had to be his epitaph. But I did feel very sick for a while, as text messages tumbled through to my phone, asking if I’d heard from him, and if he was OK. I’ve been living in a vortex, hadn’t turned on the television tonight, so I didn’t know what the hell was going on. For all I knew, he’d be beaten up by rabidly jealous Franz Ferdinand groupies…
I’m glad he wasn’t.