Russell Square post 7 July

I work near Russell Square. Just around the corner from two scenes of devastation which were, last time I looked, still shrouded in secrecy behind large white screens.

I can't say 'that could have been me', though, as my morning journey takes me from south-east London to Holborn or Charing Cross, each of which is followed by a hearty walk. So I don't get the Piccadilly line, nor do I regularly go up Tavistock Square, the site of the bus bomb, except if I'm on my way to the British Library at lunchtime.

I wasn't even at work last Thursday. One of my fillings had fallen out, so I made an appointment with the dentist and arranged to work from home. Just for good measure, I then arranged to take Meggie to the vet's, to ensure her ear was ok after the fight.

I didn't come into work on Friday (we were basically told not to), so all I had seen of the various incidents only yards from my office were the images on television, and on the BBC news website. I barely left the house all weekend.

But coming into work on Monday, walking past these big hoardings and looking at the floral tributes, it really came home to me that this had happened not in the 'out there' distant world of television, but here, the part of London where I work, where I go for drinks with friends, where I pop out to the shops at lunchtime.

It's been quiet around here all week, really. A funny feeling, sort of empty but sort of business as usual. Hmmm.