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Tuesday 24th October 2006

I am still in my decompression booth readjusting to European life and weather. I had the rather more depressing mirror image of my Zanzibar swimming experience when I found myself doing lengths in the Holmes Place pool and remembering how lovely it had been to have the sun above me and the ocean to the side of me. It was a little deflating. I had gone in the slow lane as the middle lane was stupidly full of people too scared to go in the fast lane (where only man was swimming) but too proud to go in the slow lane (where only two people were exercising). Bloody idiots. Eventually it was only me and one old lady in this lane. She was probably in her 70s and swimming regally, keeping her permed hair above the water, doing a gentle breast stoke. I was struggling a bit again and was even more deflated to realise that this old lady was actually gaining on me. Even when I did front crawl I only pulled away by a metre or two and when I returned to breast stroke she would gain on me again. Am I really this unfit? I had gone in the slow lane because it was so less busy than my usual medium lane and yet I appeared to be actually the slowest person in the pool. I managed to put in some extra effort and just keep ahead of my skinny nemesis, but after just 20 lengths was too tired to carry on. I must have some kind of tropical disease. It is the only explanation.

Later I was sorting out my laundry, which I had put in a plastic bag that I had picked up somewhere in Tanzania. It wasn't one of the ubiquitous blue ones that litter the countryside and I hadn't looked at it properly before, but I realised it was actually an "I heart NY" bag. I don't know how I'd come to pick this up in Africa, though it possibly belonged to my friend who has been in the US recently. The "I heart NY" thing (it's a picture of a heart not the word heart, that would be stupid) has taken on a new significance since the events of 11/9/2001 (specifically the events involving the planes crashing into the World Trade Centre). It got me thinking that if I had been Mohamed Atta and I wanted to destroy the World Trade Centre I would have tried to have a bit of fun in my last few moments on earth. I would have got on the flight wearing an "I heart NY" T shirt. Firstly this would have made me look as unlike a terrorist as possible and like a tourist. Who could be scared of someone who hearts NY. Mainly though it would show the world that I had a grim and dark sense of humour and irony. As the plane was approaching its final destination I could point at the T-shirt and say to the passengers, "Ha ha. I don't really heart NY at all. Look at what I am doing. There is a grim irony to this, that's for sure, but at least it shows I have a bit of a sense of humour about myself."
I guess if Mohamed Atta had had a bit more of a sense of humour about himselt then he might not have done this terrible thing in the first place. I guess he would think that wearing an "I heart NY T shirt" would somehow be disrespectful to his religious and political mission, but I think it would have made him look a bit cold and evil like Alan Rickman in Die Hard. It would at least have been a talking point. It would also have really affected the sales of "I heart NY" T- shirts and other such flim flam and maybe damaged the American economy a little bit more. Well, bad luck Atta-o, you only got one shot at it and you blew it. In my opinion.

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