If you a regular reader of my posts you'll know I have a very lovely and very loved cat, MasterB. You may also have worked out that I like other animals too, that for me, a pet is a member of the family, with all that means. Last night, I watched Grenfell: in the words of survivors at the National Theatre, one of the most important plays I think I shall ever see. If you possibly can, do see it. Seven years after this awful, totally avoidable disaster, causing the deaths of 72 people, no one has been prosecuted, no one has been held to account. It is harrowing, but the resilience and dignity of the survivors, the huge sense of community, and the way that community has given support, is both impressive and humbling.
It made me wonder how I would cope if there were a fire here. True, I'm only on the second floor and that's the top floor, so it's not exactly a tower block, but the survivor who had to leave his dog behind to die when finally rescued by the fire-fighters, felt to me like an impossible choice. On the bus home I wondered how I would get a frightened cat out of the building if it ever came to that. A building full of thick black smoke. Leaving him behind would quite simply not be an option. I don't think I could live with myself.
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