I remember...
There will be thousands of blog entries today about 7/7, mine is unashamedly selfish. The generation before us will tell you they remember where they were when they heard that Kennedy had been assassinated. The terrorist attack in London is marked the same way for my generation.
I know where I was when I got my first sense that something was wrong, I was on a Victoria line tube train approaching Kings Cross southbound when the driver announced he had been told to wait at the platform, but not to open the doors. For several minutes I watched the last of the previous trains occupants leave the platform whilst I heard the 1950s sounding pre-recorded "voice of calm authority" announcing the station was closed, please leave by the nearest available exit... It was a bit surreal, like watching fish in a bowl, or being the watched fish.
People were tutting and grumbling, and looking at their watches. Mine said it was a little after ten to nine
After a few minutes the driver came on and said there were some power supply problems but we'd be on our way momentarily.
Sure enough, we set off and I continued my journey to Oxford Circus, onto the Central line and got as far as East Acton, one stop short of my destination. My train was held at East Acton for 10 minutes, the driver had even switched the train doors to manual, so we could close them if we wanted - it wasn't very warm last July 7th. At some point I remember stepping out of the front car where I'd been travelling and saw the driver stretching his legs. I asked if he knew what the problem was - he was still under the impression that the power was at fault and the trains had to wait at stations to reduce the draw on current - which made sense.
Then at a little before 9:30 the evacuation notice came up on the electronic train indicator, the driver noticed it first, there was no tannoy announcement, and that was the first time I thought it was terrorism. All of a sudden the power supply story made no sense, too many things were going wrong together. Having befriended a nursery nurse (I had offered to use my laptop to find an alternate route for her, I'd already discovered the shortest bus journey from East Acton to North Acton was an incredible 45 minutes) we decided to set off together up the A40 (I think its the A40...) For the two mile walk.
As we started our walk, three fire engines flew past with lights and sirens going, closly followed by a London Fire Brigade major incident control centre truck. I looked at my travelling companion and said, "terrorists", she just nodded. We walked in silence for a while.
We parted company with an exchange of "good luck" and we went our separate ways.
That was a year ago, and in the context of the day its not an interesting or dramatic story, except this morning as I watched the interview with the driver of the No 30 bus that blew up a little before I saw the fire engines, I remembered how a year ago I had been confused because the TV news was saying the explosions had happened a little after 9am and my watch at Kings Cross said different, and how my train into Finsbury Park had been a few minutes late, and the Picadilly Line and Victoria line platforms run parallel and a simple choice at the bottom of the stairs, turn left for Picadilly, right for Victoria, left for death, right for life. I burst suddenly and unexpectedly into tears as I remembered how a year ago I had resolved to live each day as if it were my last, and how easily I had forgotten.
Today I remember how every day I have the choice to be everything I can possibly be, and I remember those killed a year ago who no longer have that option.
I know where I was when I got my first sense that something was wrong, I was on a Victoria line tube train approaching Kings Cross southbound when the driver announced he had been told to wait at the platform, but not to open the doors. For several minutes I watched the last of the previous trains occupants leave the platform whilst I heard the 1950s sounding pre-recorded "voice of calm authority" announcing the station was closed, please leave by the nearest available exit... It was a bit surreal, like watching fish in a bowl, or being the watched fish.
People were tutting and grumbling, and looking at their watches. Mine said it was a little after ten to nine
After a few minutes the driver came on and said there were some power supply problems but we'd be on our way momentarily.
Sure enough, we set off and I continued my journey to Oxford Circus, onto the Central line and got as far as East Acton, one stop short of my destination. My train was held at East Acton for 10 minutes, the driver had even switched the train doors to manual, so we could close them if we wanted - it wasn't very warm last July 7th. At some point I remember stepping out of the front car where I'd been travelling and saw the driver stretching his legs. I asked if he knew what the problem was - he was still under the impression that the power was at fault and the trains had to wait at stations to reduce the draw on current - which made sense.
Then at a little before 9:30 the evacuation notice came up on the electronic train indicator, the driver noticed it first, there was no tannoy announcement, and that was the first time I thought it was terrorism. All of a sudden the power supply story made no sense, too many things were going wrong together. Having befriended a nursery nurse (I had offered to use my laptop to find an alternate route for her, I'd already discovered the shortest bus journey from East Acton to North Acton was an incredible 45 minutes) we decided to set off together up the A40 (I think its the A40...) For the two mile walk.
As we started our walk, three fire engines flew past with lights and sirens going, closly followed by a London Fire Brigade major incident control centre truck. I looked at my travelling companion and said, "terrorists", she just nodded. We walked in silence for a while.
We parted company with an exchange of "good luck" and we went our separate ways.
That was a year ago, and in the context of the day its not an interesting or dramatic story, except this morning as I watched the interview with the driver of the No 30 bus that blew up a little before I saw the fire engines, I remembered how a year ago I had been confused because the TV news was saying the explosions had happened a little after 9am and my watch at Kings Cross said different, and how my train into Finsbury Park had been a few minutes late, and the Picadilly Line and Victoria line platforms run parallel and a simple choice at the bottom of the stairs, turn left for Picadilly, right for Victoria, left for death, right for life. I burst suddenly and unexpectedly into tears as I remembered how a year ago I had resolved to live each day as if it were my last, and how easily I had forgotten.
Today I remember how every day I have the choice to be everything I can possibly be, and I remember those killed a year ago who no longer have that option.
posted by Furry at 8:00 am
2 Comments:
Thank you Furry. My entry would be a similar random story of that day but I too have to confess as I watched the same interview this morning on the news my eyes welled up and I wept. Grateful and at the same time saddened. It was very quiet on the Northern Line this morning. Lots of people but very still and quiet. Each of us in our own way remembering and standing defiant.
very true all very true, furry. Good post - it brought it all back.
not sure I agree with karoona's comment - defiance is not the term - but I am not sure what is.
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