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My wife is stranded in London, so she’s gone to wait with a friend. She has an appointment in the morning so she can’t stay overnight. I leave home at 8.30, clear roads all the way, from this hilly valley to those towers of concrete. Indoors we’re all glued to our TVs. Few cars pass me all the way. I arrive at 9.20 just in time for Maghrib, gliding through the ghost town. I tell my friend I’m disgusted by all this – I say I know our thoughts should be with the victims, but I can’t help praying that the perpetrators are anarchists or something. My friend says they are – but he is using it as an adjective. I want it to be the noun.