Minutes away from catching bus that was target

I WILL never know just how close I came to being on the bus that exploded in Tavistock Square yesterday morning.

What I know for certain is that I was riding on a London Transport double-decker on the same route only minutes before the explosion. At the time, I thought I was safe. My miscalculation could have been a fatal mistake.

Even as I stepped from the train at King's Cross at 9am, two of the bombs that would cause so much misery had already detonated. The first explosion had torn a train apart at Liverpool Street station, the second had gone off at 8.56am in the King's Cross Underground station, below my feet.

Blissfully unaware of what was happening, I made my way to the Underground, where I was greeted by harassed staff stopping passengers going to the platforms below.

At that point, the official story was disruption caused by a power surge.

I saw masses of people surging to the entrance, but they seemed to quickly disperse on the orders of London Underground staff, and I guessed they had migrated to nearby Euston.

But the first signs that things were terribly wrong came as I made my way along the street and police cars converged on the station. Officers jumped out and began cordoning off Euston Road, one of London's central routes.

Mindful of the fact that the Underground may not be safe, I took what I thought to be the wise decision to catch a bus.

My route to the High Court would take me past Russell Square then on to Tavistock Square.

I wasn't scared. This was London. The problem, whatever it may have been, was all underground.

In a moment, everything changed. Normally distant and unapproachable Londoners grabbed each other and cried: "What's happening?" Others hugged each other and I overheard them saying: "I'm scared."

I stood by the side of the road watching convoys of ambulances, police and Special Branch officers screech past.

The Red Cross, NHS training teams and specialist fire crew quickly followed. An NHS Blood Transfusion team was close behind.

This was no power surge.

Tourists and Londoners alike grabbed their mobile phones, desperate for news, but the network was down.

One passer-by ran past shouting to anyone listening: "Don't get buses or Tubes, this is serious."

It all happened so fast. At 10.26am, more ambulance and fire crews tore along Kingsway to the heartland of destruction.

Minutes later, at 10.34am, emergency vehicles screeched in the opposite direction at lightning speed on what were now almost empty roads, taking the wounded to nearby hospitals.

At 10.42am, I saw more police vans, carrying officers in protective clothing, flashing past, making their way to Russell Square.

Ten minutes later, a convoy of ambulances rushed by me as masses of people stood in disbelief. Others, desperate to get in touch with loved ones, again tried to make contact on mobile phones.

One young woman burst into tears as the convoy passed and was comforted by her boyfriend.

Less than an hour later, I emerged from London's High Court to be greeted by the news that a bus that had travelled minutes behind me in Tavistock Square had exploded.

I buckled at the news and the stark reality that I could so easily have been caught up in the devastation hit home. Text messages and phone calls from loved ones ensued.

"It wasn't your time," they cried.

Desperate for news of a childhood friend who I knew worked at the National Union of Teachers headquarters in Russell Square, my family contacted her mother at St Leonard's School, in Durham.

"She is alive, crying and shocked, but okay," she said.

After many frantic phone calls, I was put in touch with my friend, Rachel Younger, of Waldridge, Chester-le-Street, County Durham.

"I survived," she cried.

Moments after starting work, she had heard a loud bang.

The 28-year-old said: "I heard a big bang. We were in deep shock.

"I rang my mum, but I could not speak, I was so upset.

"My friend saw the bus explode. It was so scary. I have never been so fearful in all my life.

"The phone network went down. Next time I rang, I was in bits. I heard a friend was sitting next to a girl on the Underground, a blast went off, a girl lost her eye."

Rachel and her colleagues were taken to the basement of the NUT headquarters in Russell Square for 90 minutes before being allowed back into their offices, but were told by police they were not to leave the building.

Counsellors were drafted in to deal with the aftermath.

Rachel said: "It was strange. This morning when I got the Tube to Russell Square, there was a guy on the train running up and down with a rucksack on his back, I said to my friend 'don't you think that's strange?'.

"Minutes later, he got off the train without the rucksack."

Had she seen a vital piece of evidence or was her shocked mind playing tricks? At the moment, no one knows.

Shortly after Rachel arrived at her destination, there was a bomb blast.

She said: "You know about terrorism but you don't expect it to happen to you.

"I'm just glad to be here, it's my birthday in a week, I'm glad I'll live to see it."

Frantic, panicked and disbelief are all words I would use to describe the day's events.

But my family, colleagues and friends watching the news on television screens, could not possibly comprehend the feeling that gripped London.

Finding refuge in a nearby bar, and eager to avoid London hotspots, others followed.

Some wept, others held their hands up in disbelief,

As Tony Blair addressed the nation, the hustle and bustle of the bar fell silent

"Terrorism will not win," he said.

These feelings were echoed by many. We were glad to be alive, to still be breathing. Life had never felt so good.

My grandmother, who lives in Durham, finally got through to me on my phone after hours of trying.

"There was an angel on your shoulder today," she sobbed.

Sadly that wasn't the case for so many people on the bus travelling just behind me.