Gosh, seven years have passed since poor Lee Rigby was murdered, brutally and savagely. This was the first blog page I ever wrote. Still occasionally pass the site of his killing and you wouldn’t know anything had happened there now. RIP Lee Rigby. Your memory lives on.
The traffic signs that warn road users passing Woolwich Barracks that there are “soldiers marching” tell us lies today, well for the moment at least. Main roads around Woolwich Barracks are Sunday-afternoon-style quiet and what traffic does pass bye is as slow as a funeral cortege over road humps.
For the moment, gone are the soldiers in uniform busily cycling past, or the friends from different regiments laughing, joking and chatting together as they walk across campus. The totally unprovoked and barbaric murder of Drummer Lee Rigby tightly casts a melancholic pall across this part of town.
When soldiers are grievously injured or killed in action, in the “theatre of war”, it is a tragedy; many make the “ultimate sacrifice” which politicians tell us is so that the rest of us can sleep safer in our beds at night. The loved ones left behind trying to make sense of…
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