I'm so proud to be British.
This is my blog entry from 8th July last year:
Before yesterday I cannot remember the last time I cried. Honestly. The scenes where the explosions occurred are so familiar to me, I've walked along the roads, caught the trains and the buses, been part of the busy hustle and bustle of life.I sat shocked to the core, lump in my throat, helpless at the continual feed from the BBC at work. I got hardly anything done. I found out I'd passed the first year post grad exams, I felt....nothing.. I could just imagine the plight of the victims who had suffered bereavement, loss of life, loss of limbs, the loss of a father, mother, daughter, son, grandparent.Why? What on earth does this achieve?
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