My own personal experience of 7/7 bombings are incomparable to the realism of the death and destruction that struck our city that morning, but for me that day was an awakening and an insight
… a day that changed me forever.
2005 was a great year. I was 25 and living the life I had always wanted – earning great money doing a job that I had always dreamed, surrounded by a huge gang of amazing friends and blissfully married to my childhood sweetheart.
I was cocooned in an intensely loving relationship that already had 7 years worth of foundations built on the ‘knowing’ that life was very short and very precious . Every moment and every ounce of life together we appreciated and loved. We knew only death could part us – and a profound understanding this could come in a second.
So we live and loved hard. Life was great, Life was PERFECT.
This was a time when my awareness was opening up to a natural flow of life, I was beginning to understand through my own experiences that life was what we made of it. I learned that if we just listened to our inner guide and believed in the giant steps our heart wanted us to take, we would achieve great things and amazing opportunity’s would open up to us.
I was starting to truly believe – not through books or teachers but through my own experience. I KNEW that my life would give what my mind would think –
Despite having moved out of the city, I loved our daily commute from our new posh Buckinghamshire commuter belt into London Town. Harry, my husband, and I would jump on the 8.09am train together in the morning. We’d always get breakfast and a coffee at the train station and jump on the Bakerloo line to Oxford Circus together where we would part ways for work.
Stood on the tube platform, every morning we would kiss like it was our last, we didn’t care who was looking or what people thought. Our morning kisses set me up for the day, and when it was time to separate hands I would walk backwards until I couldn’t see him anymore. When he had turned the corner only then would I plug my ear phones in and blissfully head towards the Victoria line to work. Within a minute of being at our desk we would be emailing each other to check we had arrived safe and sound and the rest of our days would be spent emailing each other and calling each other , sickeningly telling each other how much we missed each other!
On the way home I’d wonder with excited anticipation if he would be on the same tube, or in a different carriage, if I’d catch his eyes through the crowd, or if I walked up the escalators and stood with my back to the gates at the station would he come up wrap of him arms around me. When I’d see him, I would beam, and we would always walk (or run) hand in hand to our train home – with the gratitude of seeing each other again at the end of the day safe and well.
The morning of 7/7 to me was an incredibly exciting one and I couldn’t wait to get into the city. London had won the Olympics the night before and all I wanted to do was get into town and celebrate in MY CITY!
I couldn’t wait to get my hands on a Metro paper and hoped that they hadn’t all gone. To me getting one of these papers was like getting a little bit of history to keep forever. I couldn’t wait to read it on the tube and suck up the pride and energy all Londoners were feeling that morning. It was going to be an electric day of celebrations. When I got one, I stood in Marylebone station crying with pride as I looked at the front pages – a double front and back spread – This was so utterly exciting my energy levels were through the roof.
From High to Low in 10 mins
We got on the tube, chatting about where we should all go for after work drinks that evening. Then the tube stopped at Baker Street and the man on the tannoy asked everyone to get off the tube at it was terminating here. These things aren’t unusual on the tube, but my heart started racing. However no one else seemed bothered. The usual sigh of annoyance of the disrupted commute from everyone blew across the platform. We all got off the tube and shuffled up to the streets above.
When we got out outside I called my work colleague to say I’d be late. He said there had been a power surge at Liverpool street and not to go that way and to try jump on a bus. I stared to feel sheer panic surged through me – The rest of the world around (including Harry) seemed fine and unfazed by this simple annoyance. And here I was consumed with inner panic. Something was wrong, very very very wrong.
to be continued…