A day to reflect...

My friend has already pretty much summed up the sorts of things I would have said about today. But here goes.

This time last year we were all stalking round the office, advised to stay put pending any further explosions.

My guardian angel was well and truly with me on July 7th 2005. I had had to come into work early to test the new corporate website. The Hip Hop line had been suspended so I had bused to Wimbledon and got the over land train to work. It was a grey morning, some drizzle and not much to report at that time in the morning. I was at my desk by 8.30am. Today the weather is fairly similar. But today I got the Northern line & was on the platform at 8.45am and wondering how it would have felt to be on the network this time last year. I recall getting to work and receiving the first 'I am going to be late calls' as they came through. Then on the BBC website the news started to trickle through. The PM was on the TV from Gleneagles. The streets were flooded with people walking to their place of work. Not sure any one really understood what had happened until it was time to get back home.

The morning passed off with the slow realisation it wasn't a power surge. Friends and family from around the globe were texting or phoning to check I was ok. I felt odd because my key friends were safely at work or had either left London or were away on holiday. The only person I needed to check was ok was my then, not very long, ex boyfriend. Hearing he was ok was a relief. It was one of those days - deep joy at knowing that people you cared about were safe. Deep grief for those who weren't.

People who don't live or whom have never lived here don't really understand what being a Londoner means. Londoners rely on their public transport and are used to service delays, over crowding, no air conditioning and the general bind that getting to work can be some mornings. 7/7 was a curt reminder that for the most part all these things are trifling.

After the phone calls and the shock, there came anger. Why here? Why London? The day before we had all been marvelling at the success of obtaining the Olympics. The Red Arrow even overflew the city. It was everything that London is - exciting, lively and every day is different. Certainly the following day's events brought it all sharply into focus.

I was lucky. My friends were safe and nobody I knew was affected. I count those blessings.

The day after was somehow harder. Should I go to work or not. The office edict was wishy washy, come in if you want, stay put if you don't have to be in. At 10am I decided that though I could stay at home I wasn't going too. I defiantly got the tube and came into work. I lived in my city the way I had before all this nonsense. Don't get me wrong I was uneasy and Bank station was eeriely quiet.

Today on the morning news I wept as I listened to the bus driver recounting his own horror experiences. The reality of everyday conversations. At noon I observed the 2 minutes silence while looking out the window and recalling the way the streets were for a few weeks following. Many more scares. Police tape securing streets. One afternoon my mum texted to check I was ok. The stock exchnage but a few metres away was suspected. Then the following Thursday the incident at Stockwell. It was a terrifying month afterwards. Everyone walking on egg shells - but walking on nevertheless.

How swiftly the city fell back into its usual routine. How bullish we all were. What a difference it made. Travelling on the tube has never been quite the same since, but over the last few weeks the same gripes have returned. The change - if I see an unattended bag I ask around. The curious and accusatory looks have long since stopped. What's the point? It could be anyone and no amount of scouring the carriage will define who or when. In fact for a few months people actually spoke to each other on the tube again.

I walked to Waterloo that evening. By then the sun had broken through. I remember the queues along the Embankment waiting for the river boat services and gradually the main line stations had re-opened. Streams of people trailing along pathways they tended to avoid. I went home and watched the news solidly, feeling more and more frustrated. I was angry that our city had been violated and yet somehow in awe and proud of the way we all coped. The heroes outweigh the villains.

During the following week a remembrance garden was opened in the gardens along the Embankment. I spent soem time there one evening reading the cards, looking at the flowers and feeling very humble.

I am not sure if the sun will be shining when I walk to Waterloo this evening. But when I do I will do what I do most evenings - take a moment to look across the Thames to the landmarks and take great pleasure from thinking this is my home and I am proud to be here. Only takes a few seconds to realise how fortunate I am to be here. My blog entries teem with my London. My pride.

Tonight though I will spend a moment to remember again the innocent lives which were cruelly ended. May they rest in peace and know we never forget nor do we give up.