First as tragedy, then as farce

Once again, I'm fine.

Except this time I was(-slash-am) stuck in central London. I had come into town to wait in line at the Apple Store Genius Bar. I was told there were no more appointments today, which I sort of expected (I'd intended to get there at 9am, but got, um, delayed.) So to console myself for not getting my damn laptop battery fixed, I decided to walk through Selfridges. I came this close (gesturing with thumb and forefinger) to buying a pair of lemon yellow Marc Jacobs trousers for £30. In any case, there was a beep over the P.A., and then the music stopped. All the music, all over the store. That was what told me that something had happened.

I heard various people on cell phones muttering something about bombs, and I saw little clutches of employees muttering among themselves. When I left the store, Oxford street was swamped -- although this isn't entirely unusual. I called J—, which whom I planned to go to this IMAX Kraftwerk thing tonight. She told me what the online newspapers were saying.

My first impulse was, of course, to get online. I started hiking the BL, where I have wireless internet access. By the time I got to Tottenham Court Road, I decided it would be better to buy airtime in my nearest Starbucks, from which I write you now. Thank you, T-Mobile Hotspot!

Why is this Starbucks coffee so bad?

More soon...