02-07-2025
Gill Hicks, 7/7 survivor: ‘The pain reminds me this is my second life'
Hicks, 57, was on the Piccadilly Line, on her way to work as head curator at the Design Council in London, when the July 7, 2005, terrorist bombing took place; she was the last surviving victim to be rescued. Her body was so damaged her identification tag read, 'One unknown — estimated female'. She got divorced and moved back to her native Adelaide in 2012 with her new partner, Karl, a designer; they had a daughter, Amelie, in 2013. Hicks is now a peace advocate, having founded the not-for-profit organisation MAD (Music Arts Discussion).
I'm obsessed with the early light in the Adelaide Hills, so I'm always up at five. I love the brief flash of ultraviolet that signals the start of the day. There's often a chorus of birdsong, which, though I've only got one working eardrum, feels like immersion in a sound bath.
As well as the eardrum, I lost a lung, damaged my oesophagus and had a set of keys embedded in my skull. Plus, I lost both legs. I've had 20 years to get used to the prosthetics, but when I'm at home I usually crawl. Even into the shower — I feel more stable.
Karl works in the day and our daughter is at school, but I'm very independent. If I'm not wearing my legs it means I need my breakfast ingredients — plenty of fruit and a cup of coffee — at a lower level. If I've forgotten something I'll build a ladder out of books or towels.
The question I always get asked is, was there a bang? Nothing like that. I remember being late for work — a rarity for me — and getting on the train at King's Cross. People trying to squeeze in and, as I was only 5ft tall, someone breathing on my head. Then, darkness. No noise. No pain. I thought I'd had a heart attack. Gradually I became aware of these other voices and figured I couldn't be dead. I could tell some of the other voices were full of pain and some people were dying, but I still had no idea what had happened.
I also heard a very beautiful, clear woman's voice telling me I had no legs. I felt down there and, sure enough, no legs. At the same time, my mind was playing all these snippets of my life: hugging my mother as a child, running on hot sand. It seemed someone was showing me what really mattered. Not that report I'd finished the night before, just these moments of joy. I wondered if that beautiful voice was God but it was countered by a much deeper, angrier voice, which I decided was the voice of life. It said, 'You've lost your legs, but you're still you. What are you going to do?' I said out loud, 'I am not going to die!'
I had to use my scarf as a tourniquet on my legs. When I realised the rescue services had risked their own lives to save me, I felt so loved. That sense of euphoria has never really left me. Doesn't matter if I'm painting, doing a talk on stage, making soup for lunch, I feel charged with energy.
Everything over the past 20 years has been geared towards living the right life. I do it for the people who rescued me — they have become my second family. I do it for the people who didn't make it, such as Adrian Johnson, the man standing in front of me who probably saved my life. Adrian is with me always; I use him as a marker to make sure I honour every day. [Johnson, a married father of two who worked for Burberry and lived in Nottinghamshire, died aged 37.]
• 7/7 as it happened — by the reporter who covered it for a month
There are days when things don't feel so cheerful. Watching Amelie splash around at the beach as a little kid was tough; I can't really move on sand. The breakdown of my marriage hurt. And every time I read about another incident, like those little girls in Southport, it reopens old wounds.
Do I feel any hatred towards Germaine Lindsay, the man who did this? Hatred, no; anger, yes. Anger can be useful. It helped during the four months I spent in hospital learning to walk again and learning to talk because my oesophagus was all burnt up.
I had to get those bloody keys taken out of my skull. There is still a lot of pain — phantom pain in my legs, terrible sores from where the prosthetics rub on my stumps — but it reminds me this is my second life. I refuse to take painkillers.
Meeting Karl and becoming a mum was a big part of that too. We don't have a telly but Amelie's very engaged with what is going on in Ukraine and the Middle East. After she has gone to bed I'll have a cheeky G&T while I watch EastEnders on the laptop, but I'm rarely in bed before 12.
• 7/7: 'There was a white light. I looked around and saw bodies'
I try to wring every moment out of every day because every one of those seconds counts. A second earlier or later getting on that train and I wouldn't be show Still Alive (and Kicking) is at Wilton's Music Hall, London E1, on July 9;
Best advice I was givenBelieve in yourself. It's what the physios told me when I was learning to walk
Advice I'd giveThis too shall pass
What I wish I'd knownI used to smoke 40 fags a day. What the hell was I doing to my body?
