It was six years ago today that we moved to Brighton. As we drove down the motorway with our life-long belongings packed into brown cardboard boxes and a colicky three-month old, we were excited about starting our new 'family' life by the sea. Unknown to us, while we were making that journey a terrible event was unfolding in London. Four terrorists detonated three bombs on London Underground trains and a fourth aboard a double-decker bus. Fifty-six people were killed in the attacks, and about 700 were injured. It wasn't until we unpacked and plugged in the television that evening we saw the severity of the attacks. I will certainly always look upon this day each year with bittersweet feelings.
Things have really changed for us in those six years. Back then we knew only one other person here; Phil 'Hair', our good friend and hairdresser. I know I'm fussy as to who I will let near my hair with a pair of scissors, but that wasn't the reason we came here (well, not the only reason). Six years on, this is home. We've made the most amazing friends. Everything that was so new is now so familiar. I love our city with its faded Victorian grandeur, fresh sea air and individuality. I love the fact that my children know no different to living in this vibrant city. I love the fact that when I see the pier all lit up on a summer's evening still get a thrill. It's my patch now I have no desire to leave.