7/7: the terrorist attack on London through my eyes

News broke slowly. There was a terrorist attack on London! Fragmented bits of information came here and there. Slowly we put it together to form our own tragic assumptions, with disastrous consequences.

School etiquette soon broke down and in a matter of minutes no one was paying attention. Everyone was simply trying to get hold of their loved ones, why? We didn't even know why, we just knew it's all we could do. There were vicious rumours of a bomb, we knew nothing for certain at that stage. 

Naturally, the networks were down. Of course they were! This made the situation even harder for teachers to control (who were dealing with the potential that their own loves one were harmed in the attack). Panic stricken teenagers burst out into the corridors of the west London girl’s school, in a swarm of maroon and light blue, the colours of our uniform. The hallways and classrooms were abuzz with noise, but there was a dark undertone. There wasn’t any happiness or laughter, just a chilling ring to the chatter and cries that sent clammy hot sweat down each individual groove of your spine. There had been a terrorist attack on London I muttered in my inner thoughts. Whaaaat? The day was July 7^th 2005. I was twelve at the time.

An ominous black cloud seemed to have formed out of nowhere over our school, despite the pristine blue skies up above us. It sent many into shock, acting zombie-like, trudging around the grounds of the school looking lost. Whilst others were sent into hysteria running round desperately trying to get through to their parents. At the time nearly all of us had mobile phones but html wasn’t what it is today so no one looked at the BBC news website. We had to totally rely on our teachers for information. What we could scramble together? There had been several bombs that had gone off, some on buses, some on tubes. Fuck, basically...nearly every commuter in London had the possibility of getting caught up in one of the attacks. The more nuggets of information that penetrated through, what felt like a force field around our school, seemed to act like a mini bomb going off for us too. We were locked in our school. The main school gates were physically locked and we weren't allowed to leave until normal time if collected, for safety reasons. Great, how would we get through to them to find out they were safe if the networks were down, oh and also if you don’t mind mum can you come and pick me up from school because they’re refusing to let us out with terrorists on the loose? My mum has never been tech savvy and has never had a mobile phone, always ideal in these kind of desperate and delicate situations. It was safe to say I was freaking the HELL out. Bloody hell mum, I thought. 

The hours ticked by and finally, when the networks started to ease up from congestion, people managed to start getting through to loved ones. I was frantically ringing my home phone on repeat in a bid to speak to my mum and make sure she was home and safe. Luckily I left school that night because my friend's parents had answered their daughters calls and came to collect them. I was so relieved for my friends! Their loved ones were safe, others weren’t so lucky. We heard reports claiming hundreds of people had already been rushed to hospital and many dead.

Our ordeal, if you can even call in that in the grand scheme of the terrible things that happened that day, was over. For people all across the city theirs was very much on going, into the night and will continue forever. The people of London and Britain will forever remember that day and what they were doing when they found out the news. I was locked in my school for my own safety and I’m forever grateful. At the time I lived in W9 and walked to school with friends to W10 where our school was. I’ve never been so grateful for living in an awkward place which meant I couldn’t get direct public transport to school.

There were no sirens. No fires ablaze, no smoke, no lifeless bodies or blood, or shrill cries for help. I was safe and tucked up in the comfort of my mother’s embrace. I was incredibly lucky, many no longer had that blessing. Four bombs went off that day devastating people’s lives wherever the debris settled. 52 innocent people lost their lives but will never be forgotten. May we keep them alive by continuing to tell stories about them and by honouring them. We didn’t just lose 52 people that day as a country; we also nearly lost seven odd hundred that were injured, caught up in the catastrophe. One can only imagine that the total number of people affected by those events were numbers well into the thousands. Of all the family's, friends, acquaintances, work colleagues etc who lost loved ones that day, and for those whose’ loved ones lives changed forever that day, stay strong. Every day since 7/7 brings more hope.

My day on July 7th 2005 was scary, but I will never moan or complain about that day for I didn’t lose my entire world. I just hope those still with us and those departed are all sure on one fact, 7/7 will never be forgotten. Angels on this earth or angels up above, you are still loved.