I've woken up this morning, blissfully late because I have the day off work, and the sun is coming through my window and the children in the primary school are having a PE lesson and their giggles and shouts are drifting into my bedroom
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I had to walk for two and a half hours last night, but most of the way it was almost enjoyable, because of the quiet resiliance of all the people walking with me, and the camaraderie along the way. And this morning, I was nervous getting on the tube, but I got on it anyway, because not to do so would be a small admission of defeat, and I feel strongly that I owe it to this city not to doubt its strength. We have to believe in our own ability to survive this.
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Londoners aren't going to sit at home and cry about this. Their lives go on, because they have to. I like living here.
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I'm so proud of London today, and I'm proud to live here.
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(Though where did you get 53 deaths from? All of the media I'm seeing is still saying 38.)
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I feel, and have felt a certain sense of British stiff upper-lippedness about it all. A real sense of we carry on regardless and nothing will cause us to collapse. And most of all I've just thought about the second world war, when hundreds died each night, but every morning everyone just carried on and went to work. I was thinking of that when people were saying on the news yesterday and today that you shouldn't go to work unless you need to. And I disagree totally, actually we should go to work, because otherwise we're giving up at the first hurdle and letting the terrorists win. And surely that's the last thing we want.
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