London is the biggest, busiest, most vibrant and diverse city I have ever been to. I have been there many times over the years, and yet I have still not seen everything there is to see. I love London – and I love the London Underground too. I've never had any fears about travelling on the underground and would never even consider another form of transport for getting around the capital. Until July 7 th , that is.

I have been on the underground late at night, drunk and during a snow storm, and nothing had even remotely phased me. After the bombings, however, the Underground was suddenly a place of danger and murder, where the person next to you could be an extremist wanting to hurt you. But I decided to shrug those feelings off. I figured the Underground would be no more dangerous now than it had ever been – after all, the bombings were just one random attack, right?

And then July 21 st came. This was only a week before I was meant to go home from Stirling (a trip that involves a stint on the underground to catch a connecting train), so it shook me up a whole lot more than the first attack. I looked into maybe taking the bus, but it would take close to an hour. The underground took ten minutes, and with only forty minutes to get across the capital to catch my connecting train, I realised there was only one option.

Arriving at London Euston, I began to get nervous. As I descended the escalator into the underground, I found myself walking a lot quicker than I usually would have done, and I was holding my breath. I decided to opt for steely determination, and tried to think no more about the dangers.

Within about a minute, however, my steely determination gave way to profuse sweating. I had forgotten about the different weather of the underground – it is always a lot hotter there than outside. I was wearing way too much (probably enough to constitute ‘inappropriate attire' and get myself shot by the police, but that is another issue) and was completely over-heating, which became the focus of my attention.

As we passed through Warren Street station, one of the sights of the failed July 21 st attacks, the train stopped for quite a while. I assumed, as is usually the case, they were just waiting for another train to move further down the line. However, when a man ran alongside the train screaming, I began to panic – what was going on? Was it happening again? As it turned out, the screaming man was just an arsehole trying to scare people. We moved on with no further incident, and arrived at London Victoria station shortly after.

All in all, my trip on the underground was not as scary as I had imagined. On my return trip I hardly even considered the supposed danger I could be putting myself in, and by my next trip home a few weeks later it wasn't even a worry anymore. I have got back to loving London and loving the underground – they may have been damaged but they will always bounce back.