MANY Londoners already harboured a sense of deep foreboding before Sunday night's bomb. Last Thursday's device at Shaftesbury Avenue - mercifully foiled - had blown away the last remaining hopes. The IRA was back in business. The ceasefire was at an end. And things were about to get nasty.
MP David Mellor made the point earlier on Sunday. On the streets of Putney people were not wanting to buttonhole him about the Scott Report. The worry was where the bombers would strike next.
The confused reaction to the end of the peace was reflected in one opinion poll. People overwhelmingly blamed Sinn Fein and the IRA. But the blame was liberally distributed. Neither the British government nor the unionists was exempt. However, the mood was more of sorrow than anger.
Confront people here with the intractable nature of the Irish question, and they respond with weary resignation.
We have been here many times before. Faced with a particular atrocity, the tendency is to invoke the wartime spirit. "Business as usual" signs manifest stubborn defiance.
Londoners are stoical in face of disruption and inconvenience.
They have to be. Yesterday's hold ups were accompanied by repeated warnings not to touch any suspicious packages. But if not IRA bombs, signal failures or "leaves on the track" routinely spell frustration and delay on the journey to and from work.
And it is a vast city. So the impact and effect of the Docklands attack did not quit& reverberate throughout the capital. People took time to notice and condemn, to feel outrage, and sympathy for the injured and bereaved. But life goes on. As it did in Covent Garden late on Sunday night before a bomb reduced a London bus to grotesque wreckage.
Eyewitnesses contrasted the relaxed atmosphere in pubs and, restaurants with the scene of panic and mayhem instantly visited upon the streets outside. And their variety of background - Canadians and Americans in abundance - hammered home the potential impact of the renewed campaign.
The City, the tourist centres, theatreland - Covent Garden itself, integral to the social and cultural life of the capital. Nowhere is immune to the bomber.
People bemoan the failure of the security and intelligence services. But few would envy their task in trying to anticipate the next strike in a city now burdened with possible prestige targets.
As they struggled to work yesterday, Londoners expressed their disgust and determination. Yes, the attack would make them more wary. But no, they wouldn't give in. Sombre bus passengers watched camera crews as London, Transport workers anxiously, awaited news of their badly injured colleague.
Yet, in small incremental ways; the return of the bombers is making its mark. One woman yesterday cancelled a trip to Oxford Street - a mid term treat for a teenage daughter home from, boarding school for the week.
Pleasure at seeing her was mixed with a strong desire to see her safely returned to the countryside. Another fretted about a charity disco her daughter and, her pals were planning to attend in the King's Road.
Local cinemas suddenly seemed an attractive alternative to the West End for those promised mid term entertainments.
The Irish in Britain, meanwhile, wonder nervously what the renewed bombing might portend for them. And there is a curious tone to conversation with friends and neighbours - as with strangers, cab drivers and the like, once they've placed the accent.
One colleague was pulled in by "three plainclothes police officers" and asked his business in Whitehall. They knew he was Irish. He fitted a perfect description provided.
After a moment's confusion, the penny dropped. The taxi driver had dropped him off and instantly alerted the police. Reassurance about the extent of such public diligence brought only limited comfort. Suppose he had not been articulate, coherent, and kitted out with all manner of identification?
Mr Jim Ryan, landlord of the Coach and Horses bar - close to the scene of Sunday's explosion - spoke yesterday of his embarrassment at being Irish: "You feel so embarrassed about it really. We never really got a backlash from the English over 25 years but I suppose people can only take 50 much."
A member of the black community asked me how people reacted to the Irish in such circumstances. Confirming the common standard of sympathy and understanding, I mentioned that one Irish organisation had received a worrying call from someone purporting to be from the English National Party, threatening to extract revenge.
The Essex man digested this then told me that, while he'd always hated him, he'd come to the conclusion that Ian Paisley had been right all along.