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Diving with seals

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Following my last post, I thought I might describe how the weekend went.

The weather was excellent, sunny with an easterly breeze. Stayed in a bed/breakfast in Ilfracombe, Devon although we were ‘ropes off’ at 0730 in the boat so we missed breakfast.

In the rush to get on the boat I nearly forgot fins, mask and dive computer. Had to jog back to the car and kept everyone waiting for a few minutes.

Boat trip out to Lundy Island took an hour.

Saturday dives were good, saw a dogfish, spider crabs, pollock and lots of colourful jelly fish. That wasn’t what we had hoped for though.

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Journey back… a thrill ride. With the tide coming in fast along the Bristol Channel, Steve (our pilot from BC Charters) took ‘Jay Jay’ out boat out of the lee of the island out into the easterly head wind. As sea met wind the waves had built up.

First clue of the rough ride to come was when the boat lifted skyward, crashed down and a wave came over the top of us. I was on the rear deck, T shirt and shorts, and was completely soaked. The return trip took nearly two and a half hours. Luckily, the contents of my stomach stayed with me.

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Sunday. We entered the water in sight of some seals that were lounging in the sun. We had been in the water a few minutes when we saw the first of them swim swiftly past us.

It was an incredible moment, to be underwater with these beautiful creatures in their natural environment.

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One of them nipped at my companions fins, swam around then nipped at mine.

Getting up close, it was possible to look into their eyes, so dark and attractive.

They played with us, their speed and manoeuvrability far exceeding our clumsy attempts to track them and photograph them. The… one of them lay still. It posed… as if to say ‘go on, take my picture’. My mask leaked, such was the width of my smile.

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Did you ever see anything as cute as this? Mind you… they have big teeth!

If you ever get the opportunity to dive with seals I would urge you to take it.

For me, Lundy Island provided a ‘bucket list’ tick. Next challenge for me is to get under the sea with dolphins.

Going diving (again)

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I wish I had learned to scuba dive many years ago.

When my daughter decided she wanted to attempt a degree in marine natural history photography at Falmouth, I ‘volunteered’ to learn to dive with her. That was three years ago.

We travelled to Sharm-el-Sheik and learned to dive with Emperor Divers. It was a PADI course, over four days, where we learned the basic skills.

 

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Our instructor was the lovely Catherine Roberts, from South Africa.

Cath was a great instructor and really put us at ease. We progressed well and added on two extra days tourist diving at the end of the course. We were hooked.

We also met a group of lads from the west country in Sharm. It is with this group that I am going this coming weekend. 

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Hannah and me.

Over the last three years I have fallen way behind Hannah. She is now a qualified Rescue Diver and is, currently, working her vacation at a Marine Conservation Centre on Andros in the Bahamas. She is there for six weeks and dives every day.

Me, well I spend most days at the PC, tapping away working on the sequel to ‘Wicked Game’ so I dont get a lot of opportunity to dive.

This weekend it will be different. With the UK bathing in the most incredible Summer weather, my friends and I are off to Lundy Island to dive in the local waters which are a haven to many forms of sea-life, especially seals. I’m hoping for some good photo opportunities.

Were staying at a bed and breakfast at Ilfracombe, right on the quay, so we should be able to walk across the harbour onto the dive boat. Fingers crossed for a mill-pond sea for the trip out to the island.

Having now bought a dry suit to help keep me warm in British waters, I can thoroughly endorse UK diving. The Red Sea was a great place to learn but I was still surprised at just how much there is to see beneath the surface of our local waters. Two weekends ago I dived off Pendennis Point in Falmouth, from the shore, and saw crabs, a lobster. a John Dory, blennies, kelp, jelly fish and many other types of fish. 

If diving is something you have thought to try, I would highly recommend it. Like I said, I wish I had started years ago.

Now… to start getting the gear packed.ImageImage

Matt, your cousin is…

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A few years ago, 2002 to be precise, I made a journey into family history with my mother.

We were looking into the history of the family on my maternal grandmother’s line. My grandmother was South African, of mixed race, and was born in the Transkei area, south-east Africa.

In the early part of the 20th Century, my grandmother arrived at Swansea on a ship with her elder sister. She was looked after by relatives, so we understand, and went to boarding school.

Her father and mother were due to join them having sailed on another ship. The family had farmed in an area called Mquanduli in the Transkei. When this area was declared a black area under the apartheid regime, my great-grandfather had to abandon his farm. He chose to head back to the country of his birth, the UK.

My great grandfather had married a local woman, a member of the Xhosa tribe. The Xhosa are a large tribe, and, unlike the Zulu, they were never vanquished by European immigrants. My great-grandmother was called Lizzie.

From what we were able to discover, it seems that after packing up their effects, my great grandparents travelled to Cape Town and boarded a ship bound for Bristol. They never arrived. The ship was lost at sea.

My mother and I travelled to South Africa to find out what we could about the family and to see the farm and village that they came from. We were helped in this venture by a vicar from the church in Mquanduli. We saw the marriage certificate and the farm, but we were unable to go into the farm as it was occupied by armed squatters.

It was whilst having tea with the vicar that the revelation was made about who my mother’s cousin is. None other than Mr Nelson Mandela. We learned that Mr Mandela is also Xhosa and was tribal family to Lizzie. Not surprisingly, my mother and I were very humbled.

File:Nelson Mandela.jpg

Nelson Mandela – former President of South Africa

Since then, my mum has written to the great man several times. She always received a response, normally through his personal staff, and, despite his commitments and responsiblities, he has been kind enough to pass on his best wishes to her.

So, as he lies gravely ill in a hospital bed my mum had been rather subdued of late. No doubt, we will soon mourn the passing of such a great man.

The fact that I can call him family is an honour.

Post trauma stress – the cathartic effect of writing

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It has quite surprised me how many people are now trying out writing as a contributory means to help treat PTSD, post traumatic stress disorder. Questions levelled at me, as to how writing helped me, have prompted me to put this post together.

PTSD – the chemistry

In examining PTSD, one of the known factors is that an instance of overwhelming terror can alter the chemistry of the brain, making people more sensitive to adrenaline surges even decades later.

This sensitivity to adrenaline surges is a major factor in post-traumatic stress disorder, in which people can experience normal events as repetitions of the original trauma.  PTSD affects combat veterans, crime victims and millions of others. Its cause has biological basis in its affect on the brain.

New studies in animals and humans suggest that specific sites in the brain undergo these changes. Scientists say the findings may allow development of medications to blunt the biological changes present in post-traumatic stress disorder.

For the brain changes to occur, scientists now say that people usually have to experience the stress as catastrophic, an overwhelming threat to life or safety and one over which they have no control. Less severe stresses, such as the death of a loved one or relentless financial problems, do not seem to trigger the biological changes.

When I started  receiving counselling, it was explained to me like this.

When you are working in a high stress environment such as a war zone or any work where you are subject to regular, frequent and high adrenalin surges the brain is slowly, cumulatively, affected by this regular level of adrenalin in the body. Whilst adrenalin is an incredible aid in the preparation for and enactment of the flight and fight response, it has a side effect in that it ‘eats up’ a chemical called serotonin.

Serotonin is a naturally produced chemical that works in the body as a neuro-transmitter. It is widely thought to be a contributor to feelings of well being and happiness. What is does is smoothly transmit thought processes so that the brain operates in an organised and structured way.  Serotonin also has some cognitive functions, including memory and learning. It’s presence in the body is essential to the regulation of mood, appetite and sleep.

So, when exposure to a work environment or a series of events causes the body to regularly produce adrenalin, the effect is that serotonin levels drop.

As a result, the brain starts to operate less efficiently. Thought processes become less clear, sleep is interrupted, memory confused etc.

Then a major catastrophic event causes a massive adrenalin  and chemical surge in the brain. A hormone called cortisol is released into the amygdala section of the brain, the section that handles memory. This hormone release acts as a memory enhancer. Thus, an incredibly detailed and indelible memory of the catastrophic event is retained by the brain.

This enhanced memory explains, to an extent, why victims of PTSD struggle to ‘forget’ the event and move on and also why they suffer flashbacks and dreams about the event.

PTSD symptoms

I wonder how many people reading this will have heard of PTSD and wondered exactly how victims are affected? How many will have seen veterans talking on TV about experiences and see that brave people become emotional and unable to talk any further, the surge in feelings overcoming their ability to talk.

In fact, symptoms are far more wide ranging than most people realise and can vary widely between individuals. They may develop during the first month after a person witnesses a traumatic event. However, in many  of cases there may be a delay of months or even years before symptoms start to appear.

This is a summary, it is not exclusive, as I am not an expert.

A person with PTSD will often relive the traumatic event through nightmares and flashbacks, and have feelings of isolation, irritability and guilt.

Problems sleeping and find concentrating difficult. The symptoms are often severe and persistent enough to have a significant impact on the person’s day-to-day life.

Some people with PTSD experience long periods when their symptoms are less noticeable. This is known as symptom remission. These periods are often followed by an increase in symptoms. Other people with PTSD have severe symptoms that are constant.

Re-experiencing is the most typical and widely publicised symptom of PTSD.

A victim may involuntarily and vividly relive the traumatic event in the form of flashbacks, nightmares or repetitive and distressing images or sensations. Being reminded of the traumatic event (the trigger) can evoke distressing memories and cause considerable anguish.

Trying to avoid being reminded of the traumatic event is another key symptom of PTSD.

Reminders (triggers) can take the form of people, situations or circumstances that resemble or are associated with the event.

Many victims of PTSD will try to push memories of the event out of their mind. They do not like thinking or talking about the event or events in detail. Think of those WWII veterans who well up when being interviewed for documentaries, a display of emotion repeated by Iraq and Afghan veterans who appear to talk about their experiences in more recent programmes.

Some victims repeatedly ask themselves questions that prevent them from coming to terms with the event. For example, they may wonder why the event happened to them and whether it could have been prevented. Often, they may blame themselves and many feel guilt that they survived when others didn’t.

Someone with PTSD may be very anxious and find it difficult to relax. They may be constantly aware of threats and easily startled. This state of mind is known as hyperarousal. Irritability and anger may be a clear indication of this arousal state.

Some victims try to dampen down their feelings by trying not to feel anything at all. If you know an ex-cop or a veteran who you might describe as a ‘cold fish’ then what they may be showing is emotional numbing, a way of coping.

Someone with PTSD can often seem deep in thought and withdrawn. They may also give up pursuing the activities that they used to enjoy.

Other possible symptoms of PTSD include depression, anxiety and phobias. Drug and alcohol misuse are common as a means to dealing with the symptoms experienced.

PTSD often  leads to the breakdown of relationships and causes work-related problem.

Surprised at the range of symptoms? Imagine trying to cope with them and you will have a handle on the challenges facing victims.

Writing

Many victims, me included find that counselling helps them to understand what is going on within their own minds and bodies. It helps to appreciate how a simple chemical imbalance in the brain has been triggered and how the physical and psychological effects that follow are a result of that imbalance.

But counselling doesn’t fix the symptoms on it’s own. Anti depressants are a great help and they worked for me. The pills help the body restore chemical balance so that the brain can then start to regain control.

For me, writing started as a way of helping the counselling. Like many victims, I became emotional when prompted to talk about experiences and describe what had caused the PTSD in the first place. Like many, I was advised not to worry and to try and make notes to bring back to counselling session that I could use to refer to and which might help the counsellor to help me. I made the notes at times when I felt up to it, writing down what had happened, how I had felt, how it had affected me. I recorded dreams that I had, flashbacks and imaginary. Over the weeks and months I found that writing things down helped my brain to get things focussed, to get my thoughts back in order and to regain structure and control.

It helped immensely.

And had an unexpected benefit when my counsellor was moved to comment on how much she enjoyed my writing.

So, one day I followed her advice again and started to weave the notes jotted down into a novel. The more I wrote the better I felt. There were several dips, several times when I found myself reliving things in a way that I preferred to avoid, but, despite the low points, the overall direction was onwards and upwards.

PTSD affects people in many ways, so what works for one will not necessarily work for another, but the fact that so many people have had such enjoyment out of reading a book that came about in such an unexpected way has given me immense reward. People have contacted me, some have described me as inspiring. That may be. What I can say is that the feedback has inspired me to carry on writing and we’ll just see if it continues to help keep the demons at bay. Not just for me, but also for the many others that have and will experience the nightmare as well.

Recommended reading: How the Mind Forgets and Remembers – Dr Daniel L Schacter.

Drummer Lee Rigby – the work of assassins?

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The horrendous actions of Michael Adebowale and Michael Adebolajo when they viciously murdered Royal Fusiliers Drummer, Lee Rigby, have caused a huge amount of public outrage over the crime and appropriate expression of  sympathy to members of our Armed Services.

I remember Woolwich Barracks quite well. I attended my first interviews to join the Army there in 1975. My father was a Corporal in the Royal Fusiliers at the end of WWII.

Like many others, I found it both disturbing and confusing that both the attackers waited for police to arrive on the scene, photographed what they had done and posed for cameras and videos with members of the public who were at the scene. I also found it strange that as supposed ‘terrorists’ they attacked no other people than Drummer Rigby and actually allowed people to attend to him where he lay dead, or dying, in the street.

The actions of the attackers reminded me of something I had read about many years ago, something about assassins, where the expression first came from and I realised that the actions of these two murderers seemed to be consistent with a type of Islamic doctrine that dates back to the 11th Century.

At this time, a popular devotee of Islam, called Hassan i Sabbah, used his fame and wealth to found an order called the Assassins. It is said that he did this for his own political and personal gain, and to create a means to maintain that position through the use of fear and violence.

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Sabbah, who died in 1124, fought with other Muslims and invading Crusaders from Europe. He set up a fortress at Alamut, now in north-western Iran and then employed his highly trained agents to intimidate local populations. The members of Sabbah’s agency of Assassins had a hierarchy which ranged from the high-ranking ‘Propagandists’ through the middle ranking ‘Rafiqs’ or ‘Companions’, down to the ‘Lasiqs’ who were trained as killers and who were later called the ‘Fida’i’ , the self-sacrificing agents.

There was mystery at the time as to how Sabbah was able to persuade the Fida’i to sacrifice their own lives for his causes and to obey his will without question. It was said that Sabbah used to drug his followers with hashish and then show them a garden paradise filled with attractive young maidens and beautiful plants that awaited them. He would then claim that only he had the means to enable them to return to the known world and that, should they be killed while doing his will that their destiny would be to return to the garden paradise. It was believed that Sabbah was possessed of magical powers that enabled him to do this, a belief that caused his follows to obey his will without question.

Another trick used to convince his trainees was to bury a member of the Fida’i up to his neck in the ground at the foot of the leader’s throne. The exposed head of the man would then be covered with blood. Pupil Fida’i would be invited to speak to the head of the ‘dead’ assassin and Sabbah would then use his special powers to enable the head to talk back to the assembled listeners. The talking head would then tell the assembled Fida’i about the paradise that awaited them after death if they gave their all to the cause.

After the pupils had departed, Sabbah would have the poor actor killed, he would be beheaded, and then his head would be placed on a stake in order that the pupils might be reminded that they had indeed been allowed an audience with a Fida’i who was now in paradise.

Using the Fida’i, Sabbah began to order killings of rival politicians and military leaders. These Assassins, as they became known, were taught to only kill their target and not to attack ordinary citizens to whom they tended not to be hostile. They were trained in the art of combat and in the study of religion, all believing that they were on a ‘jihad’ and were religious warriors.

To reach their targets, the Fida’i had to be both cunning and resourceful. They were generally young as many attacks required them to demonstrate physical strength and stamina. Many were recruited from enemy countries where their familiarity with the language and customs would enable them to infiltrate more easily.

Murders of religious and political adversaries were usually conducted in full view of the public, so as to instill terror in their foes. Civilians were never targeted, the argument being that it would cause strife and discord and lead to the ruination of the reputation that the Fida’i had created for itself.

Assassinations were mostly carried out using a dagger, which was sometimes tipped with poison. Sometimes, the target would not be killed, the desired objective being achieved by leaving a note, together with a dagger, in a place such as a personal bedroom, where the ‘victim’ would know what could have happened should the assassin have desired it.

Almost all Fida’i attacks were suicide missions, particularly if the target were to die in a public place. But in no circumstances were the attackers allowed to commit suicide, preferring to be killed by their captors.

At their peak, many assassination type murders of the day were attributed to the Fida’i. Other factions, including the Crusaders, used such methods, but the fact that the Fida’i operated in public and often in broad daylight, brought them a special reputation.

The Assassins were finally killed off by the Mongol Empire, when their home at Alamut was destroyed in the 13th Century. But the ideas Sabbah created, the methodology behind such murders and the idea of a paradise that awaited those that participated still exists into modern times.

I would never be minded to suggest that this serves in any way to explain the horrendous actions of these two murderers at Woolwich. But the coincidence, as to the way the Fida’i were taught and the way that these two men acted, I find inescapable.

Latest reviews

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Only a very select band of writers/authors make a good living from their work. For most authors it is appreciation and feedback that makes the effort worthwhile.
When people I have never met or previously heard of post reviews like this it gives a writer a great feeling and the motivation to keep on doing it!
Most Recent Customer Reviews from Amazon/Goodreads
5.0 out of 5 stars Great read
I read the paperback and found it thoroughly absorbing and hard to put down. The plot and characters drew me in and kept me wanting to know what happens next…
Published 4 days ago by Bri
5.0 out of 5 stars Wicked…
There are novels about the SAS and there are novels about the police, & there are novels about the Secret Service, but this is the first novel I have read that skilfully combines…
Published 13 days ago by R. Edwards
5.0 out of 5 stars Wicked Game a bloody wicked Book
This book is superb. Right up my street as i read a lot of michael connelly, james patterson and lee childs books. This book had me hooked and i cant wait for more from the author.Read more
Published 15 days ago by Chris
5.0 out of 5 stars Wicked Read
A great first book from Matt Johnson fast paced from beginning to end. Looking forward to his next book out this summer. I think Matt will soon be up there with the big boys .
Published 18 days ago by ALAN G BUMFORD
4.0 out of 5 stars Wicked Book
Really enjoyed this. Got to know the characters well and the pace quickened as the book went on. Descriptive, excellent dialogue and a gripping ending!
Published 19 days ago by Julie marshall
5.0 out of 5 stars Great book!
I’ve read a lot of chris Ryan’s books and heard on the grape vine that this was just a good as his, well I have to agree!
Published 26 days ago by Shaunw86
5.0 out of 5 stars Good read.
Another well written book giving an insight to ex SAS soldiers possible employment when leaving the service and how their training gives them confidence.
Published 27 days ago by Mr. J. Thomas
5.0 out of 5 stars Exciting thriller.
A very exciting thriller,brilliant twists to keep you reading. Couldn’t put it down until I had finished the book. Can’t wait for the next one.
Published 1 month ago by maxine farr
5.0 out of 5 stars Excellent read
A brilliant debut novel from Matt Johnson. I couldn’t put it down and didn’t want it to end. A gripping story from start to finish.I’m so looking forward to his next book.
Published 1 month ago by Jill P

Thank goodness for spell cheque…

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Ode to the Spell Check/cheque

Eye halve a spelling chequer

It cam with my pea sea

It plainly marques four my revue

Miss steaks eye kin knot sea.

Eye strike a key and type a word

And weight four it two say

Weather eye am wrong oar write

It shows me strait a weigh.

As soon as a mist ache is maid

It nose bee fore two long

And eye can put the error rite

Its rare lea ever wrong.

Eye have run this poem threw it

I am shore your pleased two no

Its letter perfect awl the weigh

My chequer tolled me sew

WPC Yvonne Fletcher

/ mattjohnsonauthor / 5 Comments

On 17th April 1984 I was a 27 year old advanced car driver working in central London on a police traffic car.

On 17th April 1984, my friend WPC Yvonne Fletcher was a 25 year old officer on the Vice Squad at West End Central Police Station. My wife of the time served on this same squad.

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Yvonne had been at a party at my home a few weeks before this. My last memory of her is of seeing her sitting at the bottom of the stairs in my house, looking like she had enjoyed a good evening.

At 10.18 am Yvonne was with a small contingent of officers supervising a demonstration outside the Libyan Peoples Bureau in St James Square, London. Her fiancé was among the officers with her. Yvonne had her back to the Bureau.

Without warning, someone in the Libyan bureau fired a Sterling submachine gun into the group of protesters and police officers. Eleven people were hit by bullets, including Yvonne.

This a video of the demonstration and the immediate aftermath of the shooting.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vdg0BGzKCmc

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One of the uniformed officers trying to help Yvonne is her fiancé.

An ambulance was quickly sent to the scene and my patrol car was sent to escort the ambulance to the Westminster Hospital.

Anyone who has worked in central London will know just how quickly a major incident can cause the streets to become blocked. Main roads rapidly snarl up and the side streets and rat runs that the taxis and locals use, soon follow. Gridlock is the result.

Getting the ambulance to the hospital proved to be a nightmare. We were forced to drive onto pavements and, on several occasions, we had to get out of the car to get vehicles moved so we could get through. At that time we were aware that the casualty was a police officer, but didn’t know who.

I remember that the ambulance overtook the police car just before we reached the hospital. We had to get out of the car to clear traffic from a junction and the crew seized the opportunity to make progress and get through. When we pulled in behind the ambulance, Yvonne had already been taken into the emergency area. I remember seeing the fantastic efforts and the work that was being put in by the nursing staff to help her. They were fantastic and couldn’t have tried harder.

Yvonne died from her wounds one hour later. She had been shot in the abdomen area.

After escorting the ambulance, my car was sent to help with the traffic chaos that followed the start of the resulting siege.

I went home that afternoon and switched on the six o’clock news. It was only then that my former wife and I learned that the murdered officer was our friend.

In the days that followed I was assigned as a driver to the SAS team that had been brought in and stationed at a nearby RAF base. My job was to run them around, in short I was a gofer and taxi driver. Notwithstanding the final result of the siege, I have every confidence that had those soldiers been given the order to storm the Bureau, that the action would have been over very quickly. I made frequent trips to the infamous ‘blue screen’ that was built to block the view into the square and I was present on the night that something amazing happened.

Yvonne’s hat and four other officers’ helmets were left lying in the square during the siege of the embassy. Images of them were shown repeatedly in the British media. They came to represent something quite iconic as a symbol of unarmed police officers who had been attacked to ruthlessly.

What happened was that a PC, acting completely on his own, ran into the square and snatched Yvonne’s hat. There were shouts of ‘get back, get back’ from the firearms officers but the unarmed PC was determined and fast. As he returned to the blue screen, he was bundled away by a senior officer and a firearms officer. I never did find out what happened to the PC but I suspect he got into trouble.

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Fact is, what he did was a reckless thing to do. It is quite possible that the hat may have been playing a part in the hostage negotiations that were going on behind the scenes. We will never know. But what I can tell you is how much that PCs actions lifted the spirits of people like me who were sitting watching while the ‘powers that be’ seemed to be doing very little. Grabbing Yvonne’s hat from under the noses of the terrorists stuck two fingers up to them and told them what we thought of them.

To that anonymous PC, I say thanks.

The ‘Peoples Bureau’ was surrounded by armed police for eleven days, in one of the longest police sieges in London’s history. Meanwhile, in Libya, Colonel Gaddafi claimed that the embassy was under attack from British forces, and Libyan soldiers surrounded the British Embassy in Tripoli.

No satisfactory conclusion was reached in the UK, and following the taking of six hostages in Tripoli, the occupiers of the Bureau were allowed to fly out of the UK. The Tripoli hostages were not released for several months, ironically almost on the exact day that the memorial to Yvonne Fletcher was unveiled.

In July 2012 Andrew Gilligan of The Sunday Telegraph received reliable reports that Salah Eddin Khalifa, a pro-Gaddafi student, fired the fatal shot. Unlike a previous suspect named as the killer, Mr Khalifa is known to be alive and may, one day, be arrested. He is currently living in a North African city, to which he moved as the Gaddafi regime crumbled.

So today, when all the worlds eyes are on the funeral of the Prime Minister who was in power on the day that Yvonne Fletcher was shot, please spread the word to remind people that there are others who should also be remembered today and that there are those of us who do remember.

And let’s remind Salah Eddin Khalifa that we haven’t forgotten.

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No ordinary I.E.D

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At 2100 hrs  on 10th April 1992 I had a very luck break. I was on duty as a uniformed inspector in Hackney when I was called into the police station and ordered to a neighbouring area where streets were being sealed off following a bomb threat. I went to the scene with three other officers. At 2120 hrs an IRA bomb consisting of 100 pounds of Semtex wrapped in fertiliser exploded in a van parked outside the Baltic Exchange. The one-ton bomb was contained in a large white truck.  It killed three people: Paul Butt, 29, a Baltic Exchange employee, Thomas Casey, 49, and 15-year old Danielle Carter. Another 91 people were injured as the bomb ripped through the Baltic destroying offices of major companies in the building.

The first thing I knew of the blast was a flash of light, like a camera flash, only it filled the street. Then my recollection is confused. I recall a sound like scaffolding crashing down and a thump that hit me in the face and chest. I don’t think I was knocked out, but I was knocked over.  All around us windows had been smashed and, there was dust, huge amounts of dust. That dust is my lasting memory, as it confused us and interfered with breathing and sense of direction.

A hundred or so yards away, the Baltic Exchange had been destroyed.

It was my first, direct experience of an I.E.D. I had attended the aftermath of bombs before and been involved in trying to catch the bombers, but I had never been there at the time of the explosion.

I was lucky. And when I see television reports about the affect that recent exposure to I.E.Ds has on our brave soldiers it gives me a little insight into how they feel. I also wonder if anyone like me, who had lived with PTSD for over 20 years, feels a little uncomfortable with the way the condition has become a bandwagon to be jumped on, now that more is known about it. It troubles me when I see the number of ‘help’ organisations being started up, when people use it as an excuse for criminal activity and when it seems it is becoming almost fashionable to be a sufferer.

Perhaps I am becoming cynical in my later years, perhaps I have been influenced by recent exposures of con-men who have started fake charities to steal when pretending to help? Perhaps the condition itself affects my impartiality?

London’s latest landmark, the Swiss Re tower, also widely known as the Gherkin, now stands on the site of the old Baltic Exchange. A phoenix has risen from the ashes.

The 1992 bomb caused £800 million worth of damage, £200 million more than the total damage caused by the 10,000 explosions that had occurred during the Northern Ireland troubles.

As today is the anniversary of this awful event, please take a moment to think about the victims of the ‘troubles’ and say a silent thanks for the relative peace that we now enjoy in this country. And for the people who think they can ride the PTSD bandwagon to con money out of others, I would say one thing.

Don’t.