My hands are still trembling.
This morning M. came to the bed and said, "Are you awake? I have some bad news."
The first thing I thought of was my friend H., who travels to Russell Square, sometimes by bus. My hands shook violently as I thought of the unthinkable and I burst into tears when I read the first email in my inbox - someone had already anticipated my panic and written to let me know who was all right. H. wrote back to say she was fine. Three hours of waiting for everyone to send back replies to my emails, and I know nearly everyone I know is unhurt - hopefully, the ones who haven't written back are just trapped somewhere in the City for lack of transport. But I can't begin to explain how relieved, angry, bitter and sad I am.
P.S. (9th July, 3.11 am) Since writing the above I've run the whole gamut of emotions and I think I'm not yet ready to talk about this without being troubled. If I don't write about it, it's not because I'm not thinking about this, it's because I just don't know how to. I think even with this postscript I'm not really adding much to anything, but it felt like I needed to explain more.