FOUR hours after surviving the bomb, I keep coming back to the same set of decisions that took me so close to death and the same terrible images of limbs, blood and bones.

I began my day, as usual, fighting my way through London’s transport system, trying to get to a work meeting in Parsons Green, southwest London. My first stop was at Sainsbury’s supermarket because it was my turn to feed my fellow managers at the meeting. By the time I got to Angel Tube station in Islington was loaded down with two shopping bags, a laptop, a news paper and my coat.

I would normally have headed for the Piccadilly Line, but instead decided to travel across London on the Circle Line. It was a simple decision that seemed meaningless then, but so significant now.

At Moorgate Tube station I approached the Circle Line platform hot and bothered and annoyed at nothing in particular. A train had pulled in to the platform, but I decided to wait for the next one.

As I stood on the platform, a young woman in front of me, wearing a delicate blue dress, turned around and flashed me this enigmatic smile. I smiled back. I can still see her face now.

Our train pulled in to the platform and we both got on. She turned right. I saw one spare seat near her but I decided to turn left because there were two seats together and I wanted a little room so that I could put my bags down. That decision saved my life.

The train moved off and I began to read my newspaper, excited about the Olympics coming to Britain. The train pulled out of Liverpool Street station and then it happened.

There was a bang, louder than you can imagine, a noise so big that it felt like a punch in the face. The train banged to a halt and I was thrown into the person next to me. Then came blackness, followed by the smell of flesh, gunpowder and burning rubber.

For a few seconds there was silence. And then the moans and screams began from the other end of the carriage.

I tried to focus on those around me, but I was coughing and gasping for air. My ears were ringing so hard that I found it difficult to open my eyes. And then the dust began to settle and I saw passengers sitting next to me.

A woman in her fifties had cuts from glass. I looked down and was surprised to find that I also had a few cuts on my hand. We talked to each other, asking if everything was OK, and then someone began to cry.

But then I looked 15 yards to my right and saw an awful scene. It was then that I realised the enormity of what had happened. There was a hole ripped in the carriage’s side near the double doors. A man lay on the floor, apparently alive, with the bloodied body of a woman on top of him. Through the dust at least four other lifeless bodies began to take shape. I looked up and saw that the ceiling had been destroyed. Wires and metal hung across the carriage. Some windows had been blown away.

I felt as if I was in a trance but tried to focus on getting out.People started to edge towards the doors, which had been forced ajar by the blast. It sounds like a terrible thing to say but I did not want to move towards the doors because I would then have had to walk towards the bodies.

I just tried to empty my mind, but it did not work. We forced the doors open and I cut my arm and then jumped on to the track. We could see severed limbs lying across the tracks.

Railway workers led us away into clean air at Aldgate station. I was elated to have escaped, but then a few minutes later felt very low and started to shiver. I now feel angry at what has happened to me and I cannot believe that someone set out to cause such misery and pain.

But the images keep coming back to me. And I am desperate to know whether the woman in the blue dress survived.

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