HANNAH GIBBONS spent last week in London on a work experience placement. In doing so, she witnessed first hand the fear that is gripping the capital.

LAST week, on a work experience placement at the Sunday Telegraph in Canary Wharf, London, I wasn't afraid of terrorists. Not one jot - after all, I had my infallible 'tsunami' coat on and the odds of me being involved in that as well as an attack in London were negligible, I told myself.

Yet, on Thursday, three days after arriving, I found myself peering out of our 14th floor window in the tallest building in London, watching as a suspected terrorist was wrestled to the ground by a herd of strapping plain-clothes police officers. Oh dear, I thought a person can only be lucky the once, right?

But, as you'll have probably gathered from my writing this, I was lucky, or, I concede, perhaps a little more jittery than the situation required (my colleagues were practically fainting with excitement at the news of an arrest on their 'turf').

London at this time is frightening. Or maybe frightened. And for a country bumpkin thrown into the middle of Canary Wharf, the new business capital of the country, surrounded by an army of 'suits' and worryingly close to an airport where planes like to fly low to tease us, it was positively terrifying.

But I chose to carry out my placement, not just for the kudos it would add to my university application, but because I had made plans, and I'd be darned if I'd change them to suit a bunch of cowardly terrorists.

I began to regret this defiant decision when my colleague and myself were strolling back from our interview with Sir Ian McKellen (that's another story) as we heard the news of the attempted bombings of the tube on Thursday.

What fear these people can instill with just the vague news of a suspected bombing! My mum was in London, doing the tourist thing and without knowing any detail at all of the bombings, my mind, and I'm sure everyone else's in London, assumed the worst - that's millions of people assuming the worst for just a few unconfirmed moments. This feeling was tangible in the city. While I wanted to look calm and unruffled by the reports, how could I remain unmoved when police sirens constantly whirred and policemen around my office block searched the bins for bombs - you don't see that happen in Malton!

And while Thursday's attacks left me unscathed, there was worse to come on Friday. Of course, from a journalistic point of view, it was fabulous - just after the morning Latte, a shout went up around the office and while the reporters cantered down the stairs, the rest of us gathered around the window to watch the spectacle. In the courtyard outside, a man was running from about a dozen police officers while five police vans squealed up.

"He's been shot!" went up the cry, and while this proved unsubstantiated when the man was pulled up and taken to a van, his small rucksack was left in the middle of the area now cordoned off. Police officers tentatively began to go through its contents - a T-shirt I think, and a bottle of Coke, so goodness knows what happened to that innocent tourist.

But that's not to say that this false alarm made me feel any less uneasy and I was more than happy to come home (via the Tube, although I tried to hold my breath for as far as I could).

These are frightening times for London - there are potential murderers on the run who are more than willing to bring down as many innocent people as they can with them. And while the "We are not afraid" campaign seems to be gathering momentum, it's undeniable that London is on tenterhooks and waiting for more. And I'm not ashamed to say that I'm glad I'm no longer waiting with them.

Updated: 15:30 Wednesday, July 27, 2005