Just before a bomb went off on his No.30 bus on 7 July 2005, George Psaradakis had advised passengers to alight and walk because of traffic. “I wish all of them had got off,” he tells Channel 4 News.
“Really? Has it really been a decade?”
That’s the most common response when reminding people the tenth anniversary of the 7/7 London bombings is this week, writes Channel 4 News producer Dani Isdale.
Then they tell you where they were when it happened, when they heard the news, or saw those first images of people streaming out of the Underground on television.
Because for most of us, that’s what anniversaries of such events mean.
But for the families of those killed, the survivors of the blasts and the first responders on the scene – the seventh of the seventh, every year, means much more.
“I thought, what did it hit? How could I hit anything? I had the handbrake on!”
Every year, Greek-born 59-year-old George Psaradakis, relives each moment of the morning his bus exploded in Tavistock Square.
The sad incident of that day has been etched indelibly in my mind. George Psaradakis
“The incident, the sad incident of that day has been etched indelibly in my mind. Everything about it is very sad, knowing how many innocent people lost their lives in such a gruesome and barbaric way.”
He’d been sent off his normal number 30 bus route to pick up passengers who couldn’t use the tube. It had been shut down due to three explosions near King’s Cross, Edgware Road and Aldgate Station, at 8:50am.
“A policeman on a motorbike very angrily told me to move away. So I had to divert.”
Ten years later, he remembers the lives he unknowingly saved with a single, sudden decision.
“Knowing it would take some time for me to move, I made an announcement for the passengers and advised them, if they didn’t have to go far from where we were it’d be wiser for them to walk.
“I said, ‘I will open the doors, it’s up to you.’ So many people alighted the bus. Many. Lucky. Fortunately. Thank God for that.
I wish all of them got off the bus. And instead of them being dead, I wouldn’t mind to die. George Psaradakis
“I wish all of them got off the bus. And instead of them being dead, I wouldn’t mind to die.”
With traffic banked up and police cordons in place, George thought the next part of his journey would be slow and frustrating. It was over in seconds.
“I had to press a button to call the depot. As I stretched to press the button, before I touched anything I heard the thunder of the bomb exploding. Immediately I could see in front of me, metal bits dropping, the windscreen blowing away.
“Thank God nothing touched me. The first thing I did was touch my head. I could only feel some dust. The first thing that came to my mind was my passengers.”
He has trouble describing what happened next. What he saw, how he tried to help, those he couldn’t save.
“Always I say, God have mercy.”
Two months later, George was back behind the wheel, once again, on the Number 30 route (see video above, from 2005).
“I did drive because I had to make a living, so I came back to buses. I’m doing a taxi job now. Life must go ahead, you know?”
Talking about my ordeal, I feel a bit embarrassed if I compare it with the ordeal of my passengers. George Psaradakis
George now drives the staff minibus between West Ham bus depot and the nearest train station, picking up and dropping off drivers as they come and go to work.
Drivers of all ages, from all backgrounds, fill his shuttle, chatting about anything and everything as he takes them where they need to go.What happened 10 years ago isn’t often a topic of conversation.
But if it comes up, any discomfort George feels, isn’t because of what he went through.
“Every time I talk about that macabre day, it comes to my mind all those innocent people. Talking about my ordeal, I feel a bit embarrassed if I compare it with the ordeal of my passengers.”