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Not every day, of course…
…some days I am on a tube train in central London enveloped by an atmosphere of madness and joy.It is mid-evening, perhaps half past nine on a Saturday night.The sun has been shining all day – in fact, it’s been shining all month – and this afternoon England’s football team beat Sweden to reach the semi-finals of the World Cup.
Effervescent bubbles, sometimes comprising a dozen or so, sometimes just a single individual, float this way and that.They are singing and hollering, waving arms and flags, their exuberance amplified by the curves of the underground, ‘It’s coming home’ boomed and reverberating up and down escalators, in and out of tunnels.
The theatre-goers, tourists and other central London occasionals would normally be cowed by this: we all know how football fans can get out of hand.
But not today.Today their numbers are dwarfed.Today, every street, every staircase, every platform and every carriage is bursting with the colour and laughter of Pride.The S…

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