MirabileLectu

It was a miracle, or at least it seemed that way to the people of London who had feared that they would never escape the constant threat of bombardment that had hung over their city for the last four years. For many, they had forgotten what it was like to live in a city that was not reduced to rubble, to sleep through a night without the fear of air raids, to not constantly be checking the sky to see whether or not a German plane had slipped through the lines to rain death and destruction down upon them. Terror had become the watchword of London throughout the war, and now that it was over and life could slowly be patched back together once more, the people as one could breathe out the sigh of relief they had been holding in for far too long.

But first, before normality could begin to work its way back into the streets of London, there was a bit of celebrating to do. They had won, they had beaten back the Nazi menace that had seemed so sure to sweep over the entire world with its unstoppable might and unthinking hatred. For so long it had appeared as though even Britain, even the shining beacon of hope and strength that they all had thought never to fall, would be brought down by the German war machine and crumble into nothingness. But all of the struggle, all of the sacrifice, all of the countless loss and death and destruction had all been worth it for this victory. And so, before the tedious business of rebuilding and restarting could truly get underway, the survivors and the victors could indulge themselves in some well-earned revelry.