We shall not be moved
Wednesday was the first time I'd travelled by Tube since that day, two weeks ago. It was not the most pleasant of experiences, as I sat in the carridge, thinking just how easy it would be for the lives of everyone around me to be suddenly and violently extinguished, with no warning or chance of escape. Even though I told myself I would not be nervous, I left the train with a definite sense of relief.
And then, on another Thursday just two weeks later, it happened again. Or almost. I haven't been listening to the news today, so I still don't have a clear picture of what happened, or know if anyone else does. But as I walked across central London, from Euston to Holborn, a study of the faces of my compatriots showed a grim determination. We will not be scared into submission. We will not allow you to destroy our way of life, regardless of the disruption you cause. Whatever you do, we will go on.
And I hope this is the case, because the minute London, or anywhere else for that matter, ceases it's daily business is the minute that terror and brutality has suceeded. And that would be a dark day for the whole world.