What I remember of 7/7 is utter disorientated helplessness - which is the meaning of terror attacks, writes Andrew Marr
Many of you, not all, will have your own very vivid memories of what happened 20 years ago.
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The biggest mass murder on the streets of London since the Second World War.
On that July morning I was a political journalist, covering Tony Blair at the Gleneagles G-8 summit in Scotland when the news started to filter through.
Trouble on the underground.
A fire on the underground.
Electrical fault on the underground.
No. Bombs on the underground.
Bombs across London.
The bus.
Full scale terror attack.
These were the days before smartphones and I was in Scotland and my three children, two of them teenagers, I didn’t know, might well have been on the Tube.
And for hours, I couldn’t get through.
I begged to be part of the political cohort heading immediately south by helicopter and jet but was told, quite rightly, there were no places for journalists.
Compared to others, my story is trivial.
But all I can really bring to our memories today is, even while close to the center of power my vivid fear for my loved ones, my utter disorientated helplessness - which is part of all the meaning of all terror attacks.
But today is of course about remembering the victims who died, those who were maimed for life, those who have psychologically never recovered.
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