A week after the 7 July 2005 bombings, there was a two minutes’ silence. I’ve never seen Euston Road, where my office is, so crowded and so still. The buses and taxis pulled over. Nobody spoke, nobody moved. It felt very powerful.
On the one-year anniversary, another silence was scheduled. This was thinly attended, we weren’t quite sure when it began and ended, and the traffic didn’t stop this time. Likewise assorted passers-by. It all felt a bit forced.
On the two-year anniversary, I heard no mention of anything for the general public – as opposed to those directly affected – to commemorate it. It felt as though we should just get on with our lives.
I hadn’t even realised yesterday was the three-year anniversary until I was in the train going home and glanced at someone’s paper. It felt like a normal day.
The bombs didn’t, as the saying goes, change our way of life.