It was a perfect day.
And not just because they were giving away free bread, or because it was the day I discovered that there’s such a thing as halloumi fries (although 12 hours later and I literally can’t stop thinking about them) it was just lovely to be in the city, in the sun.
Especially when it feels like England has been situated under a permanent rain cloud for the past 4 months.
This was the first day of summer. Real summer.
That means it’s now officially okay to lie barefoot on the grass, and wear your Aviators all day long, and waste the afternoon sipping drinks beside the water.
They’re the best days. They’re what make summer wonderful.
And yesterday I did all of those things. Like I do every year.
Only there was a very noticeable difference.
There were armed police everywhere.
The city – along with the rest of the world – is on high alert, and I know I’m not the only one who finds it a little bit terrifying.
There’s a number of people who purposely won’t be attending Birmingham Pride this weekend because they’re worried about Terrorist Attacks.
That’s the world we’re in.
Where the risk of terror outweighs the celebration of love and equality.
Where the threat of terror looms over a perfect summers day.
I’m writing this on the train. On my way to London.
I’m expecting it to be much worse there.