Sunday morning

One of the hazards of being a journalist must be the constant danger of becoming addicted to the adrenaline rush of a big story and the desire to extract the maximum amount of drama from it.

That's if you're a proper journalist, of course. If you work for one of the rags that makes up the majority of our "free" press, I guess you just dig your snout deep in the trough of any story that can be used to stir up people's emotions, and usually the darker ones at that.

So it was that the morning after the attack on London Bridge and Borough Market, the papers were talking about Londoners being either cowed or defiant or somehow both at the same time. But this morning at Euston station, it was pretty much business as usual. 

Which is not to imply that people didn't care about those who were attacked or were oblivious to the incredible bravery of the emergency services who, as usual, ran towards danger. It just means we aren't the characters in the gutter presses narrative. 

****
No scales
And no words