Shoulder to shoulder

July 7 is one of those days in the year - at least since 2005 - when I withdraw into myself, just for a while. Four years ago, at 8.50 am, I was in a crowded train at Edgware Road Station, when  - across the platform in a train going in the opposite direction - a young man detonated the bomb in his rucksack, killing and injuring many of those around him.

None of us realised what had happened and, when asked to leave the train and the station because of "a power surge", we obediently trooped up the stairs to Marylebone Road. Like most of the passengers that morning, I was on my way to work - in my case to see clients in North London. All we knew was that there was a problem on the Underground (nothing unusual in that) and we would have to find an alternative way to reach our respective destinations - by bus or by foot. 

Since none of us was aware, at that stage, that London was in the grip of the most extensive simultaneous bombings since the Blitz, we had no idea just how impossible our journeys would be. Some of us eventually made it onto a bus going towards Kings Cross Station but it became increasingly clear that something outside was very wrong indeed. People were pouring out of every station en route, and the streets were filled with thousands of commuters looking baffled and worried. On the bus, we were all making frantic phone calls to workplaces, to families, to friends. And we still didn't know what was happening; nor did the bus driver.

At Euston Station,  almost an hour after we had left Edgware Road, our bus was diverted into Tavistock Square, which was not the direction I wanted so I dismounted and began to walk away from the square. At 9.47 am, another young man in a bus on the other side of the square detonated the bomb in his rucksack. 

Four bombs went off across London that morning; 52 people were killed and hundreds more injured. I know how very fortunate I am to have walked away, physically unscathed, from two of those bombs. If I had ever taken my life for granted in the past, 7 July changed that forever. 

Today, in Hyde Park a memorial to those who died, will be unveiled. It is simple, dignified and has been designed in consultation with the victims' families. Many of the survivors will be there; others will be with them in spirit.

Just three days after the bombing, and in different but traumatic circumstances, we lost a young and much-loved member of our immediate family, someone who was doing good work that mattered and that helped to transform people's lives. So these early July days have a particular poignancy for us. We each reflect in our own way but are comforted by the knowledge that we are not alone. And that we are still here.

Comments

[Maureen]

A day for each of us to think of those who were affected by those terrible events.

[materfamilias]

Remembering that "in the midst of life, we are in death" is always sobering, of course, but it also makes life so much more precious even at its most mundane. Still, remembering something so traumatic is also very trying -- take care of yourself today.

[Maureen]

I listened to the unveiling ceremony on the radio and found it very moving, dignified and also very positive. I will go to see the memorial next time I'm in London.

[Rattling On]

Having lived in a city where terrorism wreaked havoc and killed many (the Metro was a target on more than one occasion) I can understand, though not at first hand, how one needs to withdraw and contemplate occasionally.
I think the memorial is beautiful, and the relatives of the victims- who also helped to design it- seem to feel it says what they wanted it to say. A man on Radio 4 this morning, who lost a son in the bus bombing, said it would be reaching into the sky 'forever'

[Teri and the cats of Furrydance]

Yes, I am trying too to live each day as my last in a way, not always being positive or at peace, but a loss of a life so close can do that to you...in a way it can be a gift to have that second chance.

[Friend In Transit]

And we missed our dinner date at Al Dar that evening ....will never forget that day in London, the eeriness of sirens and more sirens all day and then walking home with millions of silent people doing the same. No traffic. Deeply surreal, and only knowing what had happened when seeing the TV news that night ....

[60 Going On 16]

Thank you for all your kind comments; my daughter is staying here for a week and we watched the memorial dedication together. Both Tessa Jowell (Minister for London) and the Prince of Wales gave short but compassionate speeches. Tessa Jowell was clearly moved to tears quoting Emily Dickinson and the Prince of Wales spoke of his parallel sense of loss when his great-uncle, Lord Mountbatten and those with him were murdered by terrorists 30 years ago. When Sir Trevor McDonald read the names of the victims, we were reminded that people of many different backgrounds, cultures and nationalities call London home.

A father of one of the victims said that he hoped that the memorial would also be a place that people could enjoy and that children would play there and run in and out of the 52 aluminium stelae. Later in the day that's exactly what happened and it was impossible not too feel a soaring sense of hope..

(Friend in Transit: I walked past Al Dar on the night of the Bruce Springsteen concert and remembered that unavoidably cancelled dinner date.)

[colleen]

I was very conscious of the ceremony going on. It is wonderful that the beautiful memorial was so well received.

[Jay]

Gosh .. I have no idea how I've missed these last few posts of yours. I think my news reader must have been having a glitch or two. I check it every day or so for new posts, but I've missed all these.

I imagine you must have been traumatised, being a part of London commuter traffic that morning, despite having no physical injuries yourself. I came down a few days later and seeing the places where it had happened and the signs of disruption and damage had a great impact on me. And of course, my family were worried that there may be more terrorism to come and I might be caught up in it.

My train comes into King's Cross when I arrive in London, and there were many tributes and a little hastily prepared garden of remembrance. I remember feeling quite stunned and tearful.