hedgewizard wrote:I was injured in a bomb blast in Belfast... six years after it went off. The blast was in 84, rained shrapnel on our house three quarters of a mile away, kept a piece... and cut myself on it when I moved the last of my stuff out of my parents house. D'oh!
27 February 1993. I was walking along Camden High Street, a big flash, a big puff of wind and I was sitting on my bum wondering what happened. I never heard anything, but the really strange thing was discovering I was sparkling - turned out it was powdered glass. I had lots of small nicks (like shaving cuts) from the glass, but 18 other people weren't so lucky.
24 April 1993. My then girlfriend came home late, and very shaken up. She was having a drink with a friend in a pub in the City of London when the windows disappeared and the floor heaved. She got up to go outside, when the Irish bartender told her and her friend to sit down, have another drink, and stay there until the police told them it was all clear. That was the big one at Bishopsgate.
Makes me very glad that Magpie's bomb didn't go off - but it disgraceful that she'd have to pay to get the area properly checked. What are you supposed to do? Put your hands over your ears, shut your eyes and prod the garden with your toes?
"whumpfh" (officer)"what was that" ....its my mum......she has the flatulence....(officer) i think ill have a look.......(officer walks to back garden)......its a mess out here...have you never thought about planting anyting....(me).....never...it hadnt even crossed my mind.
