Fear and loathing and a moment of clarity

Like so many others, I found the disruption caused by the emergency changes to hand luggage on Thursday 10 August highly frustrating, but more importantly highly unnerving. Along with my wife and daughter, I was intending to make a short flight from Luton to Newquay for my sister's wedding, and arrived at Luton to be greeted at 6.00 AM by security staff handing out leaflets detailing what could and couldn't be taken on board as hand luggage.

Wisely - perhaps - the leaflet made no mention of why these emergency measures had been put in place, but whether they described it or not, in today's tense climate it was obviously linked to terrorism. And, gradually news spread like Chinese whispers from others in the sluggish check-in queues about the arrests, and what do you know? It was linked to terrorism.

I'm not intending to turn my blog into some sort of political soapbox, but I feel incredibly strongly about terrorism because I feel like I have spent the last five years living in abject fear that at any second someone could blow up the train I take to work each day, the bus I'm walking past or the building I work in. And now, once again, planes appear to be the target, just like it was five years ago when Al Qaeda terribly and ferociously embedded themselves in the wider public consciousness.

I am a stone's throw away from turning thirty, but the continual threat of terrorism hangs heavy around my neck and I feel far older through this heightened state of stress. There are days where I feel I just can't take it anymore. Days where I can't face getting on a train, hate the very act of being in close proximity to some of the City of London's landmarks; days where you need to take a deep breath before boarding a tube and feel like you're holding it until you get off again fifteen minutes later.

Cornwall is arguably more at risk of sinking into the sea than being a target for international political and religious (where does one draw that line?) terrorism, but the security clampdown affected all flights, not just international transit. Thus the act of flying to one of the most serene, untouched places on earth also becomes absorbed into this terrifying situation. I wish they'd closed the airports instead of restricting luggage and striking fear into the very heart of you as you board a plane. I have only been that terrified once before - when flying back from Orlando on the first day US airports were open after 9/11.

Only this time, in a way, the fear of flying was worse. While a part of you was relieved and reassured that our police and intelligence service seemed to have successfully prevented an atrocity, there remained the lingering fear that they'd have missed someone and that someone might decide to act quickly to cause devastation amid the chaos. But for me the situation was worse because, unlike September 11, we now have a daughter. It was, at just three months, her first flight, and we are naturally very protective and concerned about her well-being. That the news seems to suggest that babies were to be used as distractions and decoys sickens me to the pit of my stomach.

Now I know anyone reading this will probably think it irrational to worry about a tiny, insignificant little flight to Newquay containing no more than forty people, but if terrorists can contemplate bringing kids into this pathetic fight then nothing is off limits. In a way I'm glad she was not older as the sight of police at Luton Airport patrolling the queues with machine guns must be unnerving for children, let alone rational adults.

If there can be a positive outcome from this round of terror plotting – aside from supposedly averting what people are calling the single most devastating Al Qaeda attack to date – for me it is that it has forced me to reassess my priorities and make significant changes to my life to try and minimise the risk of something happening to me, thereby leaving my daughter fatherless. July 7 2005 was an event that made me think twice about my life and the amount of risk I was exposed to – even though nothing happened, August 10 2006 was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

I decided that on the one hand I just couldn’t face working in London anymore. This was quite an uncomfortable decision to make seeing as I love London as a place and have always yearned to work here; but without a doubt, London is likely to be a focus of terrorist activity for as long as it remains our capital, the site of our parliament and the most densely-packed financial hub in the UK. And therefore so long as I work there, I am exposing myself to that risk. Whilst I should perhaps follow my colleagues’ example and simply shrug my shoulders and carry on, knowing that the odds of something specifically happening to me are slim, becoming a parent nearly four months ago has made me think very differently. It’s made me realise that this isn’t a risk that I'm prepared to take.

But, on the other hand, there is an economic justification for working in London. Being blunt, we could not have the lifestyle that we have if I didn’t work in London. I couldn’t command the salary that I earn elsewhere for the simple reason that I work in a segment of the financial services industry which is City-focussed. So, putting my daughter at the heart of my decision making going forward, I simply can’t dump the idea of working in London completely – if I were to take that route, I’d feel like I was not providing for her in the way that I want to.

For a few days after that chaotic Thursday, I agonised over what to do, and the stress was more unbearable than ever before. In fact when I started writing this piece, I was so unnerved by the whole experience that I honestly thought I was heading for a nervous breakdown. As so often happens, when you think there’s absolutely no way out at all, a solution presents itself and clarity is suddenly restored.

My job, I began to realise, did not actually – when I came to seriously think about it – require me to be in London every single day of the week. I took a look at my diary and realised that the days when I came to London were actually fairly pointless – apart from the odd meeting, I realised that I could be just as productive working remotely instead of trekking to London every day. I have the means, motivation and technology to work from home, and have built up enough trust with my manager whereby he knows that if I'm not in the office, it doesn’t mean I’m not working just as hard. And thus I find myself taking the brave step of basing myself outside of London and committing to only travelling into the capital when absolutely necessary, which may be twice a week or sometimes just once.

A while ago a friend and I were talking about how both companies and employers seem reluctant to fully commit to the idea of working remotely, despite the existence of enabling technology, and even though there are cost and productivity benefits to facilitating remote working. And I can see the logic in this. I enjoy working from home, for example, because I can get up, roll into the home office and be close to my wife and daughter; but at the same time I feel like I have to work twice as hard because I feel like I will come under closer scrutiny by not showing my face in the office every day. I also find working from home somewhat distracting because I want to natter to my wife and play with my daughter, which really aren’t acceptable work activities.

The compromise for me is to base myself at one of the three sites my parent company has in Milton Keynes, allowing me to escape the need to travel into London every day (and associated cost) but also giving me the chance to do something I never thought I'd be able to have again after accepting life as a commuter – the chance to work in the same town as you live, finish at 5.00, and be home by 5.30. To be able to achieve more time with my family, with significantly less stress and to maintain a certain financial standing, is a blessing that I never thought attainable, but which was staring me in the face all along. A shame it takes something as huge as terrorism to make you realise this.