There's nothing that happens once a city's been through a big traumatic event like that to make sure that people
are okay.
I used to live in a flat just across the road behind me above Ealing green local store
which was attacked during the riots and subsequently burned down.
We saw flaming objects being thrown into the shop and stuff started to be thrown up towards our windows
and that was the point where we knew we needed to leave.
We just kind of escaped down the back stairs
and then walked as fast as we could away from the scene.
We just stumbled across a hotel and spent the night there watching our flat burning down on the television.
We came back the next morning about 7am. Obviously we could tell that it wasn't good from the amount of
smoke that was coming out still and the fact that we'd seen the towering inferno on the news all night.
My only thought was "I want to see if my violin is in there and if we can get it out".
Because I've had it since I was twelve and its the only violin I've ever owned.
It's got huge sentimental value to me and it just didn't seem a fitting end for it to be burnt in a building by
rioters.
I spoke very nicely to a fireman and said "Listen there's a really valuable instrument just inside the back door,
is there any way you can go and see if it's still there?"
About 5 minutes later, he reappeared from behind the building carrying this dripping wet case.
On the day after the riots, everybody wanted to speak to me. I was interviewed by journalists from all the national
newspapers and appeared on TV as one of the victims of the riots.
The story of my violin was told over and over again, but for me it didn't end there.
After the cameras left, I had to begin rebuilding my life from scratch.
Becoming homeless in such an instantaneous way is a bit unnerving. You don't quite know where to start.
Luckily I managed to hassle the council enough that they paid for us to stay here eventually.
People keep asking me about Alan Partridge and I can identify with that character so much more now.
It's not a great existence.
It's being in limbo, really it's not being in one place or the other. You can't afford to do anything because even
when you're insured it takes months to get any of the money through.
David Cameron said that no one would be left out of pocket and that was very far from the truth.
To get the compensation, you had to have been uninsured, it transpired.
We were underinsured with our insurance.
So we didn't get an amount that covered all of our possessions.
But then we didn't get any compensation either.
I guess I've got the tendency to think about it quite a lot more now.
I don't really feel safe wherever I am, I think that even in my house someone can get me.
The whole concept you have of your home being your safe haven is not there any more.
We had nowhere that was private to let all of that stuff out. It was quite difficult staying with people for months
and months.
I definitely have flashbacks.
And I have a lot of dreams that are really quite disturbing.
And I just feel a bit more...
throwaway about life.
Because I think "oh, it could all just end tomorrow".
Albie, and me and his dad Rob. And that's it. Just the three of us. A little family.
Why are we whispering?
I've got a history of eating disorders, let's say. So it's all kicked in again more recently.
I'm not exactly the poster girl for fit and healthy right now.
Tada!