Five minutes

Today I saw a man jump off a bridge into the cold waters of the Thames. First I couldn't believe what I had seen, then I shouted at F and ran towards the shore. F held out the life belt, but the man didn't acknowledge him. Some folk on the bridge threw a life belt down to him then, when he didn't take it, they threw down plastic barriers, anything that would float, but he didn't take them. Instead he seemed to deliberately put his head under. I'm not sure what I felt - possibly a sense of hopelessness that I was so near, yet so far from being able to save this person. Possibly anger or frustration that he wasn't taking the lifelines thrown to him. But I was upset to see someone's life seemingly slipping away before my eyes. So it was with great relief that we saw three boats come to the rescue - the guy had been in the water I think only 5 minutes, and the coastguard were super fast and efficient. They lifted him out of the water and sped off. Dead or alive, I'm not sure, but he would have had a good chance of being revived.

Shaken, we abandoned our visit to the Tate Modern and retreated to the warmth of the Swan at the Globe. We drank tea, chatted and raised our spirits sufficiently to make the most of the day. We ended up going to seeMan on Wire, which was amazing.