Former Radio Pembrokeshire reporter Ollie Cole, who now lives in London, was walking near to Westminster as the terrorist attack unfolded on Wednesday.

Here he gives a personal insight into the aftermath of the attack and how the capital got back to work:

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“Sorry, I didn’t think I’d get like this” - a woman stood next to me in Trafalgar Square hugs her husband closer, as her eyes tear up. It’s Thursday evening and a vigil is being held to pay tribute to those affected by the Westminster Attack.

Around 36 hours earlier, I was stood on the Southbank, just across the River Thames from the Houses of Parliament, where an act of terror and devastation was unfolding.

As I began to learn details of what was happening just a short walk away, a complete mixture of moods could be seen along my side of the river. Some in a state of confusion and anxiety as they were being evacuated from buildings and tourist attractions along the pedestrianised stretch, while others continued their walks and chats, still unaware of the situation developing nearby.

My phone began a stream of sounds and notifications as friends and family members asked if I was OK, and colleagues and media groups began requesting updates, interviews and photos.

Moments like these are strange ones when working in my industry. As everything tells you to stay away, the professional in you urges you to stay, report, and inform. For most of the rest of the day, the stream of events became a whirlwind - people’s phones ‘pinging’ left, right and centre with the latest reports, blue lights, sirens, and a heightened police presence wherever you walked, and an almost formulaic approach to getting the reporting done. In order to cover the story, you must detach yourself from it.

Through the evening, I walked back to my flat, passing through the areas surrounding Westminster and Westminster Bridge. I remember feeling that it was far too pleasant an evening for a day so tragic. Where earlier there was bloodshed, the skies now carried a soft lilac hue, the winds were light, and there was now a quietness. In Whitehall, and at the end of Westminster Bridge, crowds of media gathered to capture their final reports. On from them, I walked past St Thomas’ Hospital, where the events began to hit home for me. This was one of the hospitals in which victims of the attack were being treated, and families cried. Within that building, of which I’d usually take barely any notice, people were suffering because they just happened to be in the wrong place, at the wrong time.

After a broken night’s sleep, on Thursday I woke early and walked into central London, with more reports to be done, and photos to be taken. It was a city surrounded by reminders of the tragedies of Wednesday - police tape, flowers, ID checks approaching Whitehall - and yet despite this, it was a city back on its feet and starting afresh. People were calm and collected on their commute to work, and of course very few people stopped to talk to each other, which is always a positive sign. There weren’t many walking without a news app in hand however, a knowing on people’s faces, and an air of reflection.

As Thursday progressed and names of victims, including PC Keith Palmer, emerged, London continued to carry on as normal, determined to get back to daily life. It was a quieter, perhaps more measured city, but one that would not be stopped. Westminster Bridge re-opened less than 24 hours after the instance of terror, and it was not long before a new wave of commuters and tourists got back to using it like any other Thursday, hurriedly heading to their next appointment or stopping for selfies with Big Ben.

It was of course a world away from my home of Pembrokeshire. To be in the position where Facebook activates its ‘I am safe’ feature, and you actually need to use it is fairly jarring when you’ve only lived in a place for under a month.

But stood in Trafalgar Square among a crowd of thousands, after a minute silence, and as details of those caught up in this week’s attack continue to emerge, a moment for London to reflect.

People finally allowing themselves the chance to light candles, the chance to lay flowers, the chance to mourn, and the chance to cry. A reminder that despite the hurriedness of city life, we stand together. A community of different backgrounds and beliefs, with a rare chance to stop everything and remember that despite the terror, hate and bloodshed, we will never be beaten."