My London Pride

Due to the terrible events that unfolded on Wednesday at Westminster, I wasn't going to post this week.  Too upset and angry that my home town had become vulnerable in a brief moment, a mindless act of violence taking the lives of innocent people, and a devoted policeman at the first line of defence.

Anyone who knows Westminster Bridge, or indeed has been a tourist there, will know just how frustratingly busy the bridge and the pavements are along here.  Tourists, workers, street entertainers, artists, as well as London traffic both on the bridge and the Thames boats beneath.

Within moments this iconic area of London was dealing with the aftermath, all races, all faiths pulling together to help those who were dying and injured.  My friends who work in the area were in lockdown, kept in their buildings, but safe.

My Grandparents lived through the Blitz, my parents and I lived through the IRA bombings, and now my children are growing up in an era of uncertainty of randomness of terrorist targets.  There is nothing more incredible than the resilience of Londoners.  Yes we get tarnished for being unfriendly, just worried about ourselves as we dash around the City, but that's because we're busy, we have places to get to and try and fight our way through the crowds.  But, when the going gets tough, we pull together, dust ourselves down and just get on with it, helping, talking, taking time to make sure everything that can be done is done.

As I watched events unfold, as well as being in shock, I was proud.  Proud of the strangers who helped each other and the emergency services carrying out their numerous drills of such an eventuality.

I am a proud Londoner, and always will be. No matter how often others try to beat us down, we just get stronger.