I live in LA but I call London home. It's where most of my friends and family live. I've been here for a year and until now have never been homesick for the city before. I've been homesick for friends and family, but never for a place. I want to jump on a plane, bike to Hyde Park and swim in the Serpentine Lake. I want to shop in our local Lebanese and then walk home across Queens Park.

We all know that London is used to terrorism, and expected this. It is still a shock, but it will wear off. When I first moved to London there was a number of bombs, which were placed in street trashcans. Now every time I bike pass one I cross my fingers and hope, knowing of course that I will not be blown up. Every time I see a plane in the sky, for a moment I think it will fall out of sky. Now another thing has been sullied for me - the red double-decker bus. A symbol beloved by children and tourists.

I received an email from a radio producer in Tennessee whom I have never met: "I don't know if you're a Londoner," she writes, "but I was so sorry to hear about the terrible events of this morning." The concern of Americans who both know me and who don't, is touching and comes as no surprise. It has bought me close to tears a couple of times. It has made me miss London even more.

I got another email from one of my friends in London – "Me and girls ok - Edmund going to court this afternoon. Would quite like him home."

I would quite like to be home too -- my wife and kids are here so I can get all the emotional support I need from them. I want to be home so I can be a Londoner again, to reclaim my city, to join the inevitable peace march. It makes you cry when innocent people are killed in the place you call home.