At this stage, the bombing is largely for show. Britain is taking it on the chin; it is only the older
people who remember the last time we were attacked who seem extremely upset. When the first mbt shoesi
missiles struck, before the reintroduction here of petrol rationing, many families would actually drive
out to Heathrow to watch the gradual demolition of this once-flourishing metropolis. When I say
families, I mean mostly the men. Security, too, has been blasé by World Uggs II standards. Today’s
smart missile can find you whether you are there or not: This time around, there’s no black-out.
Getting into my office this morning and switching on the light hasn’t provoked any hassle from the
wardens.
Uh-oh”either the tube-trains have woken up, or that was a stray coming down. I felt the house flicker
just a moment in shock, then go back exactly the way it was. Hopefully it won’t wake Michèle
upstairs. I can hear Figgy jump off the chair outside my door, where I saw her sleeping on my crushed
velvet trousers when I came in here with my tea. What amazes me is that I’m not more terrified. As
Michèle said, it’s scary what you can adjust to.
Why, oh why, did the mbt shoesis refuse to believe us when we showed them, beyond doubt, that we do not
have weapons of mass destruction? Every cupboard and cellar door was opened wide for their inspectors.
To date, less than a thousand people have been killed here, according to the Daily Express”but what
happens when the sites are set on Central London?
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