Where were you when the bombs went off?
Where were you when this outrage happened? Few will forget the morning of 7th July 2005.
In my case I was high up on a Ugandan plateau looking up at Mount Elgon.
Surrounded by hundreds of villagers as cameraman David Perella was waiting to film a stand up for a piece for BBC London on fair trade coffee.
At 10.30 a text came through from his partner in London spelling out that several explosions had led to serious loss of life on the tube network.
We both felt sick and helpless; in the right place but now at the wrong time.
At the very moment that text came through, Thelma Stober was stuck underneath debris and bodies on the railway track at Aldgate, blown up by the 22 year old suicide bomber she was standing close to, Shehzad Tanweer.
Five years on Thelma has yet to venture back on to the Tube. The smells and shock of that moment five years ago endure.
In fact the memory of that day, Thelma told me in conversation recently, remains stronger than some of the things she did over the previous month.
I've observed Thelma's slow recovery from the trauma of that event. Despite her courage, conviction and determination she still struggles, as do many of the other approximately 700 victims directly affected that morning.
Many people are still so traumatised they find it impossible to talk to journalists about their experiences.
The day before all this happened, on the 6th of July 2005, things couldn't have been more different for Thelma and the team she was working with.
As legal adviser to the Olympic bid team, she was at the heart of the ecstatic celebrations over the success of bringing the Olympics to London in 2012.
When Jacques Rogge, President of the IOC said the words "London", the city went wild.
In Singapore the movers and shakers of the London bid celebrated, whilst those in London like Thelma made sure the final touches were made to the legal framework underpinning what was now the project to deliver 2012.
The following morning Thelma came into work slightly late.
As the Tube train she was on entered Liverpool Street station, her mobile phone showed a signal so she started to compose a text message to the office to say she would be in work shortly.
As the train pulled out of the station and Thelma pressed the send button she recalls an almighty white flash, and thinking maybe that's why there are signs up in certain places saying don't use your mobile phone.
Crazy as it might seem she thought she had caused the explosion with her mobile phone.
Thelma recalls coming to, lying on the track, a hand lay across her forehead.
It was then she realised she was in the midst of a disaster.
The hand belonged to one of the 52 victim who had perished.
As she puts it a kindly gentleman came and covered her with a jacket because all her clothes had been badly scorched and began talking to her, to keep her conscious.
Thelma wanted him to tell the office she would be late and expressed concern her son would be anxious if she was not at school to pick him up. Even in the midst of tragedy the everyday matters of life must carry on.
Thelma's recovery from her injuries, she lost the lower part of one leg, were initially hampered by difficulties in getting a suitable prosthetic limb.
Unbelievably it was expected that she would be satisfied with a white coloured limb. Thelma is from Sierra Leone and wanted, as she puts it, her two legs to match.
She found it degrading to have to constantly prove that she was an amputee. A psychological adjustment she believes needs better management by medical practitioners.
The recovery process has been a constant battle she says for her and other survivors.
Because they were victims of a terror outrage many could not rely on private insurance policies to fund the lengthy recovery periods involved.
Thelma says she was in denial that things were bleak or that life would have to change for a long time.
The bottom line: She had an urge not to give the terrorists who blew up the trains the pleasure of seeing victims give up.
It certainly didn't help that there was such resistance to a full public inquiry.
Many of the victims still want an answer to the key question of who knew what, how much and when.
Could the catastrophe have been avoided if intelligence agencies had joined up the dots and conveyed that picture to the police?
Thelma is no longer angry but in a curious way would like to sit down with those who changed her life so dramatically to ask if this is what they intended and if there could be another way of resolving what ever motivated them to act in the first place.
We conclude our conversation with the positive tone with which we started.
From personal tragedy a new philosophy emerged that having been given a second chance at living her life; she is now focussed on doing good or at least as little harm to others as possible.
London life has recovered, I'm not sure we are any longer as complacent as we had become in 2005, the memories of the IRA's reign of terror in the 1970s and 80s having largely faded.
Personally, barely a day goes by where I don't have a little voice in my head saying I hope my kids come back safely every time they venture into central London.
Thelma says one day she is determined to get back on the tube.
She misses the hustle and bustle, but unlike those of us less directly affected, Thelma cannot yet control her fear.
To never do so again and not take part in one of the necessary rituals of London life would, in her terms, be a failure.
I hope I'm with her when she takes those steps. Thelma loathes failure.