Today, at 8.49am, the teeming mass coursing through King’s Cross station in London fell silent. It continued to move, because the world must turn, but the hubbub ceased. Moments earlier, a strangely quiet, sombre loudspeaker announcement marked the moment the 7/7 terrorist bombs exploded in that station and elsewhere in the capital in 2005, killing 52 people and injuring more than 770.
The capital moves on, but the capital remembers. I stood still for a minute underneath the glowing light of a digital clock. People offered knowing glances and nods as they passed to catch their trains. At the time of the bombings, I covered London and the London mayoralty for the Guardian. I remember being called by colleagues asking for information about what they had been told in the initial moments was a giant electrical failure on the London underground. I had been warned that week about the fears in official circles that some sort of terrorist attack was possible, if not likely. I rang a contact. “It’s not an electrical incident, is it?” “No,” they replied gravely, “it isn’t.”
