On the morning of Thursday, 7 July 2005, four male Islamists separately detonated three bombs in quick succession aboard London Underground trains across the city and later, a fourth on a double-decker bus in Tavistock Square. Fifty-two civilians were killed and over 700 more were injured . . . wikipedia
What a difference two hours made ten years ago. My husband and I arrived at Heathrow, on the overnight flight from Canada, and proceeded through London on our way to Wales on the morning of July 7th, 2005. We were in the underground on the Piccadilly line between Kings Cross and Russel Square, one of the three bombing locations, prior to the 8:50 A.M. detonations.
I had wanted to stay at the airport and shower, have breakfast and take my time getting to Wales. My husband, on the other hand, wanted to get to Bridgend before lunch and he insisted we go directly to the trains and make our way through London. We did. Two hours later we were in Wales and heard about the bombings. The details about the one at Russel Square were particularly poignant for us.
The images we saw on television that evening while we sat with our friend Pat in her home in Bridgend were surreal. "We were there," we kept repeating to ourselves as if somehow we needed to affirm that we were safe and alive.
I can only shrug and affirm that "my number" was not yet up.
Read more on History.